Текст книги "Losing Her "
Автор книги: Mariah Dietz
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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
“You’re starting to keep flashcards to remind you of your boyfriend? Is there one with my name too?” Kendall teased from her seat on the couch.
Your pen stopped from where you were scribbling something on a note card, and you looked up from the textbook you’d spent most of the day buried in to the mess of flashcards spilled across the floor. A smile covered your face as you reached out to grab a card that was half covered.
“No, these are for my anatomy class. It’s all of the muscles and facts about them that I need to memorize. This one’s the gluteus maximus,” you explained. “Did you know that the gluteus maximus is the muscle in our bodies that allows us to walk upright?”
“Maybe that’s why you’re such an ass man. Your name’s in the word,” Jameson teased.
“I think it explains why he can be such an ass,” Wes fired.
This adorable grin covered your face and then grew into a laugh. You finally closed the textbook, and began gathering the mess of cards and highlighters before stretching.
“Come on, Maximus, let’s go to bed.”
My body whipped around. Your surprise turned into a giggle that I’m pretty sure was induced from too many hours of being so deep in thought. I stood up, and you backed up a few paces, shaking your head. “No. Don’t even think about it,” you warned.
It was too late, and you knew it. You sprinted down the hallway with me on your heels.
“I have socks on! This isn’t fair!”
I was gaining on you, and you knew it. I was thankful for the socks because I’m pretty fast, but you can shoot off like a damn bullet. Those socks leveled the playing field.
I heard the others whoop at us as we made another lap around the house, and I waved my arm, trying to get one of them to stand up and cut you off.
Before we reached them, your foot slid as you raced through the kitchen, allotting me just enough time to catch up to you and haul you over my shoulder, eliciting a stream of giggles and pleas as I stopped to catch my breath.
“I think someone’s going to get some gluteus maximus,” Kendall said as she walked past us, slapping you on the ass as she did.
I patted your ass a few times as I carried you up the stairs in a fireman hold.
Once in the confines of my room, I set you down on the bed and watched you shake your head at me. “You are a maximus!” you exclaimed, pulling your socks off and flinging them at the wall.
I grinned and took my shirt off, tossing it in the same direction of your discarded socks. “But I’m your maximus,” I said, grabbing your left hand in mine and turning it so I could see your tattoo: the word ‘his’ etched across it in my handwriting. I placed it to my mouth and slowly licked it.
My eyes moved from your hand to your face and I saw the anticipation dancing in your eyes. “Always,” you whispered, readjusting so that you sat on your knees.
You lied to me Ace.
You fucking lied to me.
I wake up feeling sated and happy, until my eyes open and I’m forced to face it was all a dream. My mind can conjure up repressed details, like the way her skin tastes warm and sweet, or the scent of her hair, even the feeling of her skin against mine. I push the dream away, discarding it along with the dozens that came before.
It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Real or fake, none of it fucking matters. She’s gone.
I roll away from Erin so that I face the wall, and move around a few moments trying to get myself comfortable.
Christmas is lonely and painful. I narrowly managed to avoid having any involvement with Erin for the holidays. I wasn’t about to bring her to Arizona to meet my entire family, especially not after the fiasco from Thanksgiving. I’m still receiving shit from Sarah and both of my brothers about that. My mom on the other hand, works to play ignorant, like she never heard the words in the first place.
Kendall insisted on carrying out a few traditions, thankfully not half as many as last year. There’s no way in hell I would have helped to roll out shit loads of cookies, decorate a tree, or any of the other holiday mayhem the girls had involved us in last year.
Hank and Sarah had invited the family to their house for Christmas this year. I wondered if my mom had suggested it to get me away from our house, and the memories of spending hour upon hour decorating our house and the Bosses last year. I feel positive that she pushed the idea forward when we all learned she was coming home for Christmas. No one had flat-out told me that she was, but I’d overheard Kendall discussing it with Jenny one night.
The memory of David floods my mind constantly over the holiday as I painfully recall that we had planned to head north this Christmas to have a real white Christmas, complete with sledding, pine trees, and wood-burning fires.
Thoughts like these come with an onslaught of memories of her, as my mind works from memory and imagination, picturing us in front of a fire with my arms wrapped around her small frame, breathing in the comforting scent only she had, hearing her breathe as she worked her way further into my arms. I can hear her laugh as we sail down a snow-covered hill on a sled and picture the bright fire in her eyes from the thrill. My mind is so good at creating these false realities that sometimes I have to remind myself what’s real.
When I arrive back in San Diego, I find Kendall sitting on the couch with a blanket and a picture album.
“Hey, how was your Christmas?” she asks, looking up and trying to inconspicuously close the album.
I really don’t want to explain that I spent the majority of it in my brother’s guestroom, drowning in sorrow and my fake realties because I wanted to be experiencing ridiculous Bosse traditions, like sleeping on the floor under the Christmas tree or watching every corny Christmas special on TV. I even missed hearing Nat King Cole and Bing Crosby on a continuous, repeated playlist.
I shake my head to dispel the thoughts, and focus on Kendall. “It was good. Where’s Jameson?” I ask, dropping my suitcase. I’m hoping he’s nearby so I can get out of here without too much small talk.
My eyes fall to Kendall and notice her face is blotchy from tears. “He went to the grocery store. The fridge is like empty.”
“What are you doing? Are you okay?” Guilt pushes me to question her, although I know I shouldn’t, and that I’m treading closer to a ledge that I shouldn’t want to be nearing.
“It’s nothing. I didn’t realize you’d be home this early.”
“Are those from this Christmas?” I ask, nodding to the now-closed album on her lap.
She shakes her head. “No, Mindi put these together. Ace couldn’t get hers to fit in her suitcase so I’m going to ship it to her.”
“That’s hers?”
Kendall looks at me suspiciously, appraising my mood. I had created a rule that developed a couple of months ago that we wouldn’t say her name. I’m not sure which of us has a more difficult time with the agreement that I harshly ordered one day after hearing Kendall casually say her name, but we both diligently work to maintain it. It’s best to have thoughts of her buried as far back in the recesses of my mind as possible.
“Can I see it?”
Kendall nods, gifting me a small smile as she lifts her blanket and resituates so I can sit beside her.
“My mom cleaned out Dad’s den. Apparently it’s going to now be a home gym,” Kendall explains as she flips the book over and opens the cover. The fact that she doesn’t specify that it’s their dad catches me for a second, and I stare at her. I know David had told me I’d been accepted into the family. He told me this even before she and I began dating, but for some reason, Kendall’s words make me feel the absence of not only that acceptance, but of the love I had received from the Bosse family. It adds to my already emotional state and I take a few steps closer to her. “She came across boxes of photos, and Mindi took them all and made albums for each of us.”
My eyebrows scrunch as her words about the home gym and the eradication of the den catch up to me. “She got rid of the den?”
“Yeah, Christmas was …”
I look back at Kendall as she works to find a word to describe the situation, and tears cloud her bright blue eyes. “It didn’t go so well. We stayed at Mindi and Kyle’s.”
I know things must have gone really bad if they had elected to not stay, but I don’t want to pry so I turn my attention to the photo album cradled in her arms.
Kendall turns the first page that has an inscription to Ace from Mindi, and there staring back at me is a photo of a small, wrinkly, red-skinned baby drowning in pink and lying in the arms of David, who’s beaming at the camera, looking like he’s just won the lottery.
There’s picture after picture of a mess of blond hair and smiles. Her big brown eyes stare at me through the pages of her childhood.
“She used to love Donald Duck. When we went to Disneyland, I remember all I wanted to do was find all of the princesses. Not Ace. She wanted the duck.” Kendall laughs, pointing to a young, smiling Ace, posing beside Donald Duck.
“Who’s that?” I ask, noticing a boy reoccurring in several pictures.
“That’s Kyle!” Kendall says with a quiet chuckle.
I know that he’s been in the family a long time, but seeing him looking so young really puts it into perspective.
Kendall smiles as she comments on more pictures, tying them to stories of their childhood. I listen and smile, picturing the stories she draws for me that I’ve never heard.
The last several pages are filled with gaps and entire pages of missing pictures even though a caption is written next to each blank spot, indicating they were once filled. Kendall flips through them so quickly, I’m not able to read them.
Her stories stop and she holds the last several pages tightly between her fingers, her eyes trained on the album. “I don’t want this to upset you,” she says softly. Her eyes slowly travel to mine. “I’m sure that this is hard. I know it was for her.” Tears pool in her eyes and I have to grit my teeth and fist my hands to not reach out and comfort her. I’m afraid if I do, we’ll both see how weak I really am right now.
“What?”
Kendall releases a breath and lets one of the pages fall. I look down to see pictures of Ace and me.
I stare at a picture of her sitting on my lap. She’s smiling at the camera, and I’m smiling at her. Our hands are tangled together on her lap.
I look to the next image and find pictures from Thanksgiving the year before. There’s a slew of images of us covered in flour from when we had decorated sugar cookies and of Ace linked to my side. They continue to images of us standing in front of our houses glittering with Christmas lights. I can’t believe how many pictures I’m in of their recorded time line, and it causes me to wonder if that’s the reason the book didn’t fit in her suitcase.
“What happened to these ones?” I ask, flipping to a series of empty slots.
“She took some out. She wanted to bring them with her,” Kendall’s words are slow.
“Who was in them?”
I watch as she carefully creates her response, her eyes still looking slightly apprehensive. “I don’t think there were too many pictures you weren’t in last year.”
My head spins, wondering why? Why would she take pictures of us, of me, back to Delaware?
“Hey.” Jameson’s voice has my head jerking up in surprise. He’s holding several bags of groceries in his arms, while looking between Kendall, the photo album, and me with his chin dropped and eyes slightly slit with unease. “Kendall, Stacy is here. She said she has some clothes to return?”
Kendall pushes the blanket off her lap and walks to Jameson where she presses a chaste kiss on his cheek and then heads out the front door.
“Hey, man,” Jameson says, lowering the groceries to the floor and shoving his hands into his pockets as his eyes, still slightly narrowed, scan over me.
“She took pictures of me.” The words come out before I can even think about saying them.
Jameson’s expression remains cautious.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You haven’t really been in the mood to discuss any of this.” Jameson waves a hand at the photo album. “I … don’t know what to say exactly …”
“Did she ask about me?”
“She asked if you were happy.”
I stare at him, imploring him to tell me more.
“I didn’t realize …” Jameson stops and lets out a deep sigh and runs a hand over his unruly blond hair.
“What didn’t you realize?”
“She’s not doing … you wouldn’t …” Jameson grasps for words as his eyes travel to the ceiling. “This has affected her a lot more than I think we all realized.”
“Meaning?”
“Here,” Jameson says. He retrieves his phone from his pocket and presses a few buttons before making his way over to where I’m sitting, and extends it to me.
The image makes my breath catch in my throat, and my hands to freeze midair. It’s Ace. It’s irrefutable that it’s her, but it’s difficult to accept that it is. She’s so thin that her big brown eyes take up even more real estate on her face than normal. Her cheeks are sunken, and the base of her neck exposes every tendon and muscle. It’s hard to look away from her eyes, though. They look so empty, so dull compared to the bright dancing gleam they always held.
“Is she okay?” The words are painful as they leave my mouth.
“I don’t know,” Jameson replies, and I can tell by the way his posture immediately stiffens that he hadn’t meant to admit this out lout. “I mean, I think, I think she’s getting better. We talked a lot one night, and I saw the old her come back at times, but … I’m worried.” Jameson rubs his palms down the front of his jeans and sits beside me.
“Muriel really managed to fuck things up. The entire trip was so … different. It was nothing like last year,” Jameson says, shaking his head.
“What did she do?”
“Yeah, she got engaged.”
My jaw drops, as my eyes widen with shock.
“Yeah, that was my reaction too,” Jameson says, nodding. “We were all shocked. I think we were also too caught off guard to actually say anything. Everyone but Ace … she was pissed. The conversion didn’t go well to say the least.”
I run my fingers over my forehead. I know that Ace’s and Muriel’s relationship has been stretched thin over the past six months. I can’t imagine what this will do.
“What in the hell’s wrong with her?” My words come out loud and harsh. I feel so angry. So fucking angry, that it takes all of my focus not to start destroying things. She’s successfully working to ruin my life! I feel a sense of loathing for the woman I had once cared for and respected. I want to shake her until she realizes what she’s doing to herself. To me.
A loud banging on the door has Landon and me looking at each other with apprehension.
“Did you …” he begins.
“No, did you—”
He shakes his head before I can finish asking if he slept with a girl that already has a boyfriend. We had encountered that scenario up in Alaska when he’d taken a girl home, only to have her boyfriend show up at our door a few hours later with the sole intent of killing Landon.
I pull open the door with Landon beside me. My fists are curled and my feet are loose, ready to move.
Wes stands before us, looking more pissed than I’ve seen him in sometime, maybe ever. He pelts me with a handful of DVDs.
“You’re ditching classes to hang out with some easy fuck?” he yells, removing the question as he continues. “Is she worth throwing all of this away for?” He stabs the cover of the remaining DVD in his hand and my eyes briefly dart down to see Erin. Her breasts are exposed as she leans across a man with another naked chick on the cover of a porno.
I hadn’t told him or any of the others about Thanksgiving and have no idea how he found out. I don’t bother asking.
He chucks the movie at me, followed by a quiet chant of curses.
“I feel like you’re the only person that didn’t learn one goddamn thing from your relationship with Ace! How in the hell do you go from her, to that?” he asks. His voice is loud and filled with disgust as he waves to where the movies are scattered across the floor. “You’re disrespecting yourself and her by being with this girl! Throwing away your future and your friends to hang out and party with some loose chick that doesn’t see anything but dollar signs when she looks at you.”
Wes shakes his head angrily, his lips pursing. “She was her. Ace was my track girl. I didn’t know she was your Ace at the time.” He slams his open palm against the doorjamb, letting his eyes fall. “I was out of my mind, scared as fuck that I was falling for her for a long time. I had to keep separating myself because there’s no way in hell I would do that to you. It took me a while to realize that I did love her, but only as a friend. Just like some fucker, I fell for what the two of you had. You were a better friend with her around, a better son, a better person.
“She wouldn’t have left you, Max. She made it clear to me, and any guy that bothered to pay any attention to her. She was just freaking out. Not about being in a relationship with you, but fearing the future again. She got weird about that shit! You knew that! And you were so convinced that she was going to do the same shithole move your dad made that you refused to listen to any of us. You became your dad when you turned your back and wouldn’t listen.”
I watch his nostrils flare, and feel my own anger burn with the desire to punch him for multiple things that he’s just shared.
Instead, he continues on his rant. “You drink yourself stupid and are so ready to give up on your dreams, for what? Some cheap piece of ass that would have fucked both of us the first time she saw us.” He tilts his head and looks at me to see the weight of his words, and I work to keep my face cold and void of any emotion.
“Get a fucking clue, Miller!” he yells, slamming a hand against my chest before he turns and murmurs something incoherently. Wes heads back to his truck and climbs in without looking at me. He flips me the bird before peeling out of my driveway, and gunning it down the street.
I feel my heart beating in my head as I take a few deep breaths. My shoes connects with a movie, kicking it across the room so I can close the door.
“She’s a porn star?” Landon asks.
I turn to glare at him. This time he doesn’t back down. Instead, he takes a step closer to me. “Shit, dude, I hate to tell you this, but he’s right. I loved you before she was around, but I really can’t stand you most of the time now that she’s gone.” His eyes focus on my face for a few prolonged moments.
I have nothing to say. I can’t even think of a sarcastic retort.
“Max!”
I turned, hearing your voice, and saw your blond hair blow in the wind as you sprinted toward the field where I was finishing my workout. A smile covered your face and I knew before you were close enough for me to confirm it, that it was my smile.
My feet carried me to meet you without thought, and you barely slowed down before colliding against my chest, wrapping your arms and legs around me.
That had been a long weekend for Jameson and me after you both left town for a long weekend to celebrate Abby’s bachelorette party. You weren’t supposed to be home yet. I had gone to the track early so I would be home with plenty of time to shower and get things ready for you to come back. I’d been planning to get takeout from that small French restaurant you love. I had it all planned, but with your presence, those thoughts were a distant memory.
You pulled back just enough to kiss me with a need that was so strong it was palpable with your every move, from the way your hands fisted the back of my shirt to your thighs pressing against my sides, to the soft moans that echoed from you as I swiped my tongue along yours.
“God, I missed you.” Your words made my heart expand.
I set you down and ran both of my hands up your neck and into your hair, and pulled just slightly, to make your head fall back so I could look at you. I was craving to see the look in your eyes when you professed your need for me.
“I love you.” Your voice was quiet but intense, and your lips were parted, anticipating my kiss.
I wake up and lie in bed for a few moments and take some deep breaths trying to escape the image of her from my head.
Feeling slightly disoriented, I head down stairs. The others are all in the living room, watching a movie, because it’s already noon.
A few hours later, I stand from the couch and press pause, freezing the football game that Landon, Jameson, and I have segued to, and Kendall’s barely enduring as the doorbell rings.
“Hey, ask them for some pepper flakes this time,” Landon calls, throwing a pillow at me as I walk to the door.
I open the door and watch as it slowly widens, as if my instincts have affected time so I’ll absorb every single second of this moment.
Standing before me is an exact replica of Billy with an additional twenty-five years of life, drinking, and bar fights. I feel my shoulders square and my jaw flex.
“Max.”
I watch as his hand nervously rubs his left pant leg, and it pisses me off that the first thing it reminds me of is her, and her nervous habit of fidgeting.
“Dude, is that the pizza?” Jameson asks, coming behind me and opening the door wider—an annoying as hell habit that he never seems able to break. Jameson looks straight ahead, and then I feel his attention shift to me. “Holy shit. How in the hell …” he breathes.
“What’s going on?” I hear Kendall approaching.
“Um, who are you?” she asks bluntly, placing a hand on her hip as she looks at him with the bitchy demeanor that she has whenever she answers the door. I silently add it to the list of reasons I don’t mind her living here, not that I’d ever verbalize the list; it’s not extensive anyways.
“Hello? Do you speak? Are you deaf?” she asks, pointing to her ear.
“What are you doing here?” I demand, ignoring Kendall. But he’s staring at her like she’s a ghost, so distracted, I don’t think he’s hearing a damn word that I’m not certain yet if I care to waste my breath on.
“Dad!” I watch his head jolt back to me. “What in the hell are you doing here?”
“Dad?” Kendall not so quietly whispers in shock.
I watch his face crumple as he looks at me, his eyes running over my face, making me feel uncomfortable and anxious. A single tear rolls down his weathered cheek. “I wanted to say I’m sorry, and that I love you, Son.”
His words don’t serve to comfort or relieve me. They hurt. They remind me of David and his acceptance and compassion. They echo the loss of my own father, and how long it’s been since I’ve heard these words—the words I should have been hearing for the last thirteen years and haven’t. If there hadn’t been so many shocking moments over the last year, this might actually make me think I was dreaming. Granted, when I dream I don’t talk to my dad. I talk to her.
I slam the door in his face and stalk back to the kitchen, where I down two shots.
Hours later, my dad’s sitting on my couch, looking comfortable, like he does this every Sunday. The only thing that seems to have him on edge is Kendall, and I’m not certain if it’s because he thinks she’s hot, or what, but it makes me defensive.
“You look really familiar, Kendall. Do you have family in New Orleans?” His voice comes out with a twang that I don’t remember hearing.
“No, I have three sisters here, and another on the East Coast,” she admits the latter part quietly.
“Five girls?” He looks at her as if he’s trying to confirm something.
“Yup, five girls.”
“Maybe I met one of your parents at some point?” he suggests.
Kendall shrugs, not really seeming to find his line of questioning to be as strange as I do. She notifies him that she’ll be right back and disappears, returning with a framed picture that she brings to his side. Before I can think to tell myself not to look, I’m staring at a family photo of the Bosses from last spring. My eyes are focused on one person in the crowd of twelve, at the same dark brown eyes that I’ve startled myself awake seeing in my dreams. I squeeze my eyes shut and look the opposite way, but it’s too late. The image of her is burned into the back of my eyelids.
“Wow, you girls are all beautiful. I bet your poor dad had a hell of a time keeping the boys away.”
“Had?” Kendall asks.
I look over to see her eyebrows raised. I hadn’t even noticed the past term reference. Leave it to Kendall to do so. She can read into nearly anything. In my book it’s one of the strikes against her that I’m more than happy to vocalize.
“Well, you all look pretty grown-up. Parents only have so long to keep some things at bay,” he explains as he gives her the frame back.
“Like you’d know,” I quietly sneer.
“Do you have a place to stay?” Landon asks as he ties a garbage bag off and lifts it to take it out.
“Oh, I was going to go check into a hotel.”
“Stay. We’ve got room,” Landon offers.
My head turns to look at him. He ignores my every effort to catch his attention so I can show him my displeasure. Fucking hell, is he seriously inviting a man that I don’t even know from a perfect stranger to stay in our fucking house?
“I’d really like that. It would be great to get some time with my son.”
Fucking hell.
I spend the next few days working to avoid my dad, attending more classes than I have since I met Erin, and doing extra conditioning at the gym. I haven’t reached out to Wes, and he hasn’t made any attempt to contact me. I still don’t know what I think of everything he told me, ranging from the fact that she was the girl that he liked—another secret that she’d kept from me—to his clearly disgusted feelings about Erin, whom I have no intention of breaking things off with. I’m not going to create a false illusion in my head and say I want to marry her, but we’re both having a good time, and my dreams and thoughts are finally starting to minimize. I need her right now.
“Babe, did someone eat the rest of my soup?”
I shake my head, barely able to refrain myself from telling her that no one would ever intentionally eat her cabbage soup. That shit is nasty and smells worse than the time Jameson left his gym shoes in the car we eventually bought in Alaska for a weekend. The sun had baked the scent into the interior, creating a stench we never could erase.
My dad rounds the corner, freshly showered, with a smile that’s getting more familiar every day. He stops when he sees Erin. Fucking piece of shit really is into younger women.
“Oh you must be Tim! I’m Erin, Max’s girlfriend!”
The word girlfriend makes my lungs stop. Girlfriend? When in the hell did she become my girlfriend?
My attention flips back to my dad as he takes a step closer to her. My eyes narrow as I watch him, waiting for him to say something even slightly provocative so I can kick him out with a clear conscience. He shakes her hand and turns to look at me, his graying brow furrowing.
“Max’s girlfriend?” he repeats.
My jaw clenches as I feel a new wave of defensiveness rise in me. I don’t know what he’s even insinuating with his question, and before he says anything more, he turns back to face Erin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Erin.”
She smiles at him and then giggles before she steps over to me and smacks my shoulder. “You didn’t tell me he was staying here!”
I had, but it really doesn’t matter. I nod to my dad again. “Yeah, Erin, this is my dad, Tim.”
“You look a lot like your son, Ben.”
“Billy,” I correct her.
“Billy?” she asks, her eyebrows knitting together as her eyes drift toward the ceiling in thought as I nod.
“Billy, not Ben,” my dad patiently explains.
“Oh right!” She giggles once again and then sags into me. “Are you ready to go?”
“Where are you kids heading?” my dad asks, as though this is a standard routine question.
“We’re going to a party!” Her eyes gleam. “It’s supposed to be totally drunk.”
“Drunk?” he repeats.
She nods excitedly. “We have to go. We’re going to be late.”
My dad’s eyebrows remain raised and his eyes blink in rapid succession, telling me he has no idea what she’s talking about. I doubt I’d explain it to him if I did.
It takes me thirty seconds from the time we arrive at the party to wish that I’d taken a couple of shots before we left because the sounds and people are so intensely loud.
I follow her in as she greets a couple of people I don’t know, introducing me as her boyfriend, which makes the other girls squeal and Erin to giggle again.
“I’m going to get a drink,” I yell over the music and excited chorus of voices surrounding us. I don’t wait for her to reply. I make my way through the house, my eyes scanning the rooms looking for alcohol.
I finally see a couple of kegs set up in the backyard and quickly slide outside and stand in a short line to fill a cup.
“So you found a new Cassidy. That took you a long time.”
I look behind me and feel my eyes narrow as I work to place her face. I know I recognize her from somewhere.
She points an index finger at her chest. “Your neighbor,” she explains with an annoyed tone.
Yes, the neighbor that called me out for making out with her roommate, I remember you.
“No, her name’s Erin.”
Her eyes roll as she shakes her head. “Sure, you keep lying to yourself.”
“Why do you give a shit who I’m with?”
“I don’t.”
“You sure as hell seem to.”
“No, please, go ahead and date whatever cum dumpster you please.”
My eyebrows rise and my chin tilts hearing the accusation in her tone. “Cheating ex-boyfriend?” I reach.
“Disappointment with the male race in general.”
“Well, on behalf of all men, I apologize. But you’ve really got to pull your head out of your own ass and stop caring so much about what other people are doing, or not doing. It’s none of your goddamn business who anyone dates, unless they’re dating you.”
“You really found a winner this time,” she says, apparently refusing my advice.
“Aubrey!” A girl screams, crashing into the back of my interrogator.
Thankfully it takes me away from being her main focus. I fill my cup and then tip my chin at her, raising my eyebrows as her friend starts describing a hot guy that she just made out with. The scowl across her faces tells me she catches the hypocrisy of the situation.
I find Erin inside, dancing with a dude that has his hands wrapped around her hips. She makes no attempt to stop them as they slide higher and then lower on her body. If this was her, I would be going out of my mind right now with rage and probably punch the guy in the face. Yet as I stand here, I feel a strange sense of relief wash over me at the sight.
