Taking my brush, I comb out my wet hair and pick out something to wear to bed. I see a glow from outside and walk over to the blinds, peering through a crack. It’s dark out—after nine by now—but Pike is still at it, in the driveway, working on my VW.
He’s pretty awesome. Cole’s been busy on everyone else’s car but mine, although I suspect it’s just an excuse for him to get out of the house.
A bright shop light hangs from my propped-up hood, and Pike circles the VW and leans over, unscrewing something. He’s been out there since after dinner. He wanted Cole’s help, but of course, he’s out again. I think he’s waiting for him.
A couple of women walk down the sidewalk, dressed in workout clothes, and stop, smiling and calling out something to Pike.
The brunette on the left jogs in place, even though she was just speed-walking a moment ago, while the redhead puts her hands on her hips and gives him a flirty smile.
“Seriously?” I mumble. Who the hell goes walking this time of night? “Smooth, ladies. Real smooth.”
Like they didn’t see Pike out here working through their kitchen windows, shirtless with muscles flexing against his tanned skin, still looking every inch the bad boy hottie they drooled over in high school, probably. Then they gave each other a call up to hatch a plan to don their active wear and ‘just happen to jog past his place’, right? I mean, it would be rude, after all, not to say hi, right?
I roll my eyes. Suburban housewives, bored with their husbands, looking to stir up shit like Pike Lawson is a pit stop to be used to excite them.
I release the blinds and back away.
I’m being so mean.
So, they’re flirting. So, what?
I’ve taken pride in the fact that I’m a pretty level-headed, calm person, but my behavior has been erratic lately. The move, the bills, Cole… I’m out of sorts, uncertain, and all over the place. I don’t like it.
I start a playlist on my phone, Pity Party droning out to match my pissy mood as the bedroom door clicks shut behind me. I stop brushing my hair, turning my head.
Cole is suddenly standing in the room, leaning against the door, and staring at me with a look in his eyes I know all too well. When did he get home?
Heat rises to my skin, and I clutch my towel, but I don’t know why.
He crosses his arms over his chest as his eyes scale down my body and back up.
“What?” I ask when he says nothing.
“Drop the towel.”
Now? But his father is still awake, and…
“Come on,” I protest but try to keep my tone light and calm. “It’s getting late, and I’m exhausted.”
“I’ll get you in the mood.” He pushes off the door and moves toward me, his six feet easily crowding the small bedroom. “I never see you anymore. I miss you.”
He steps up and wraps his arms around my waist, gazing down at me. I can’t help but smile a little.
I bite my bottom lip playfully and grip his soft blond hair on the top of his head, bringing him in for a quick kiss. “I was home last night,” I reply. “You weren’t.”
I pull away from him, and tighten my towel around me.
“I invited you out,” he points out.
“I was tired,” I say, but I can feel everything that’s been building inside of me for days about to bust free. “And I’ve had to do your chores, so…”
“I didn’t tell you to do that.”
“It had to get done.”
The desire I felt for him a moment ago has faded, and there’s a wall rising between us now.
But he tries to navigate around it anyway. “My dad’s not going to kick me out if I’m a couple days late mowing the lawn, Jordan,” he says, trying to put his arms around me again. “You take things too seriously.”
“No, you didn’t do it, because you knew I would.” I turn away. “As usual. You need to get it together and stop doing the bare minimum.”
He lets out a sigh and releases me, turning toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I can’t listen to this right now,” he grits out. “You know why I’m always gone? Because of that.” He points at my face. “The way you look at me. I’m tired of not feeling good enough.”
“Oh, that’s awesome,” I shoot back sarcastically, grabbing a pair of his boxers out of a drawer and one of his flannel shirts off the chair. “I’m only here to be with you, and you’re always gone. You know, I spend more time with your dad! Don’t you think that’s a little awkward for him?”
“You got somewhere else to go, then go if you’re so uncomfortable.”
My breath catches in my throat, and I glare at him. “Are you serious? You’re actually saying that to me right now.”
I already feel like a pathetic freeloader when I’m not the one who got us evicted. I’ve always been there for him. We’re friends, dammit. We’ve always looked out for each other. I would never make him feel…. Son of a bitch.
I pull on the boxers and throw off the towel, pulling on the red and brown flannel shirt and buttoning it. Tears spring to my eyes.
My sister was right. I could’ve sucked it up for a few weeks, worked at The Hook, and been able to stay in my place. At least I wouldn’t feel like I’m not wanted.
He moves toward me again, his voice softer. “All I’m saying is it would be nice to put the stress behind us once in a while and show each other a little attention. I can’t remember the last time we had sex.”
And after the sex? Everything that’s wrong would still be wrong.
“Maybe if I weren’t doing all your shit around here and working until 2 a.m., I wouldn’t be so tired all the time,” I tell him. “And maybe if you were helping me save money, so we could get our own place again instead of drinking your paychecks away every damn night, I wouldn’t be so worried and stressed about money. I feel fucking alone. Where are you?”
He just shakes his head, and I can’t help the tears from welling. But I refuse to cry. We need to talk, and he won’t. He won’t give me the one thing that will fix this.
He comes for me, taking my face in his hands. “Just shut up for a while and fuck me.”
He kisses me, and I squeeze my eyes shut, the tears now spilling over and streaming down my cheeks. Goddamn him. He steals my breath, covering my mouth and moving over my lips hard and forceful, and I want to give in. The stress and the worry have gone on so long and been too much, and if I could just forget for a while it would feel so good.
Gripping my ass in both hands, he lifts me up, forcing my legs around his waist, and we fall back on the bed, him coming down on top of me.
Something holds me back, though. Like I’m back in the trailer park with my dad and stepmom. They don’t see me.
Cole doesn’t see me. I could be anyone right now.
I tear my mouth away and push at him. “Get off me.”
“Baby, please.” He kisses my neck, and I know him well enough to know that sound in his voice. He’s upset, too. “Just be a girlfriend for tonight. We used to have fun. Let’s just have fun.”
“No.” I shake my head, tensing. “I’m pissed at you. I need some air.”
And I’ll feel worse when it’s over.
He keeps kissing me, and I growl, shoving him off. He finally lets go and falls to the bed next to me. He barely hesitates and then he’s on his feet and yanking open the bedroom door, charging out of the room.
In moments, I hear his engine start, tires peel, and then he’s gone.
Asshole.
But part of me can’t help but breathe easier now, too.
I feel like I belong here more when he’s not here.
He never used to treat me like that. Tears well in my eyes, but I blink, pushing them away.
Rising from the bed, I go over to the TV stand and pick up the stack of bills to be paid laying on top. A water bill from the old apartment, a doctor bill still not completely paid off from when I thought I broke my ankle last summer, a phone bill, and two of Cole’s credit card bills about to go to collection. I don’t have medical insurance, and every day I’m scared something is going to happen that will take me to the hospital for a twenty-thousand-dollar emergency room visit.
I have no working car, and even if I did, I can barely afford the insurance anyway, with whatever extra student loan money I’ll have after my tuition is paid in the fall going to living expenses. I can take out another loan, but I don’t want to be weighed down with that bill for the rest of my life, so I try not to take out much.
And every time I check the mail, there’s a new, unfortunate surprise.
Opening the top drawer of the bureau, I pull out my tips I’d made the last week that I haven’t deposited yet and spread out the wrinkled bills in my hands.
A hundred-forty-two dollars. The hole I’m in keeps getting deeper, because I’m not making enough to dig myself out.
I stuff the cash back into the drawer and pick out the wet T-shirt contest flyer I’d hidden in there, as well, and look at it. Three hundred dollars isn’t enough to make it worth it, but bartending at The Hook or…doing what my sister does and bringing home that kind of money might be.
For a moment, I can’t help entertain the idea. To be able to have cash in my pocket that isn’t already the gone the moment I earn in. To have nice things. To have a car.
But then I think of Cole and Jay and the guys I went to school with coming in and watching me, and I shove the paper back into the drawer, wanting to throw up. Strangers might not be unbearable, but I’m not dancing for the guys I went to high school with.
And bartending there would be almost as bad. The outfits I’d have to wear, the customers I’d be serving…
Leaving the bedroom, I head downstairs and round the bannister, continuing into the kitchen, through the laundry room, and out the back door.
The air hits me, and suddenly, I can breathe again. The fragrant trees and freshly mowed grass fills my nostrils, and aside from the light illuminating the pool underneath the water, it’s completely dark back here.