16. 16
16
D ahlia skips out the front door ahead of me, and I follow after her with a smile. Her energy has been so high this morning, I feel like I’ve had three cups of coffee just looking at her.
We’re headed to her dad’s house a little earlier today, because I have Vic’s baby shower to get to. I’m already running late, unsurprisingly.
I close the door, hoping she doesn’t remember anything else she wants to take once we’re already heading down the stairs.
“Wait, mama–” Oh good, right before I get the door locked.
“What did you forget?” It’ll be faster if I run in and grab it, instead of letting her loose in her room again.
I start to pull it open but she tells me not to, and points.
“More junk mail.”
One single word stands out on the sticky note as soon as my eyes land on it, and I snatch it off as fast as I can. I do not need her to ask me what that word means anytime soon. She seems oblivious as she walks over to the stairs and I blow out a heavy breath. That could’ve been an entire crisis.
I put the note in my pocket for later, and go meet my daughter where she stands with an arm raised to grab my hand.
“Absolutely not!” Vic laughs. “We are now officially done making babies.”
“But you could have two of each! How cute would that be!” Amanda exclaims.
Oh, Amanda . You pushy little thing.
“If that was the goal, I’d end up with twenty of them while trying to even the number out. I have nine aunts. Nine ,” she says.
I remember just how excited Vic was to find out that Eli was a boy. The men in her family are heavily outnumbered, and she believed she was destined to contribute to those odds. Adding at least one more boy into the mix was a welcome surprise.
The baby in Amanda’s arms starts to wiggle, and she smiles down at him. Little Caleb.
“He’s probably hungry. I’ll be right back,” she tells us in a high pitched voice.
I’m relieved when she walks away, not because I don’t like her, but because her pushiness knows no bounds. It’s something I think most people would need a break from.
“She tried to force one of those cookies down my throat,” I whisper to Vic.
She gives me apologetic eyes.
“They’re good cookies?”
“I’ll never find out now. I’m too traumatized to give them a chance.”
Autumn walks over to us with a little plate of snacks. I see a couple of the aforementioned cookies on it and wince.
She walks quickly, keeping her eyes down, and I feel so bad that she looks so uncomfortable. Her rigid posture only relaxes when she’s standing right next to the two of us and sees that we’re alone.
“You okay?” Vic asks.
“I’m fine,” she answers with a smile.
It’s not a genuine one. We know better.
“Some people have already started to leave. I understand if you’re ready to go.”
Autumn shakes her head adamantly.
“No, I’m really fine. I just… maybe shouldn’t walk away from you two again,” she says.
I link my arm with hers, careful not to knock the food from her hands.
“Perfect. I wouldn’t deal with anyone but you two either if I had it my way.”
Vic playfully smacks my arm.
“You be nice.”
“I’m so nice! I just can’t handle that woman.”
We all chuckle, but Vic scolds me some more. I’m not some mean girl that likes to stand around talking about others, it’s just that I don’t need a filter around my best friends.
Autumn looks my way with a small laugh, and then she gasps.
“Reya! You’re one to talk about hickeys!” she whisper shouts.
I feel the blood drain from my face.
“No way,” I reply. “I don’t.”
“You do!” She pulls my top down the smallest bit to expose what I’m assuming is a little purple bruise.
Shit. I got dressed before doing my hair and makeup, so I never saw it. I didn’t even think to look.
After our little hookup last week, my neighbor decided to interrupt my night last night. I stood my ground for approximately three minutes, and then we were kissing on my porch. Again. I don’t understand it in the slightest.
It started small, but she tried taking it further. I told her my daughter was asleep inside, and gestured towards my open front door. She got the message and stopped, but that mouth of hers didn’t stop.
Hence this supposed hickey.
I was disappointed in myself, to say the least. Still am. Giving into her is becoming a trend that I might have to accept. I’ll just think of some other way to get back at her, or convince her to knock her shit off.
To be fair, there wasn’t any music blasting this week. I blame last night’s weakness on that. I was in a good mood, I’d slept soundly for a week straight, and didn’t have to drag Dahlia out of her own home.
I groan, and bury my face in my hands.
“We need to talk about this when we’re not surrounded by potential eavesdroppers.”
Which doesn’t take long at all. We’ve already played all of the games, and Vic opened her presents. As soon as she put a hand to her stomach and started complaining about how exhausting the day had been, the place emptied out fast.
It is both hilarious and cruel that she put on the act just to get information out of me sooner.
“Bailey?” she asks, pouring herself a glass of orange juice.
I wrinkle my nose.
“No, not the bartender.” I find myself relieved I haven’t heard from her after handing out my number that night. “But it’s worse.”
“Worse? Do we know her?” Autumn asks enthusiastically.
“Not really… no. You know of her.”
Vic waves her hand in front of me like she’s waving away my nonsense.
“Don’t make this a puzzle, what’s her name?”
“I–” I bite my lip, preparing for their response. “I actually don’t know her name.”
Their jaws drop and they look at eachother, then back at me.
“Scandalous, Reya,” Vic muses.
It is scandalous, it’s ridiculous . I don’t know anything about her. She could murder me and disappear, and no one in my life would have anything to go off of. Nothing other than her taste in music and the color of her hair.
Commence even more beating myself up. I’m an idiot.
“Okay, look. I know how dumb I am. I don’t have any excuses, because I haven’t been thinking clearly in weeks. It’s just–”
“You’re horny and made a mistake,” Autumn says. “That’s the start of a million romance novels, trust that I understand. And that I’m excited.”
“You’re excited that I made a huge mistake? Gee, thanks.”
“No!” She assures. “I’m excited that you haven’t given up on yourself entirely since everything happened with Olivia. It kind of felt like you forgot how to have that kind of fun.”
“Exactly,” Vic agrees. “When there wasn’t a follow up after that night at the bar, I was beginning to really worry.”
She moves to put the container of juice away, but I grab it from her and search for my own glass.
“It is possible to have a fulfilling life without getting laid, you know.”
Autumn clears her throat.
“I believe that, but also… I’m not going to lie to you, babe. I was doing alright before Miles, but… having your itches scratched is pretty nice.”
“Yeah, well,” I begin with a sigh. “My neighbor isn’t scratching my itches. It was the other way around.”
Autumn squeals.
“What the fuck! The neighbor ?”
“The neighbor!” Vic echoes.
I remember the note that’s still in my back pocket, and blurt out my explanation as I pull it out.
“She randomly kissed me the other night, and then she did it again, and then we might have taken it even further one time,” I say so fast that it all comes out in one rush of breath. “It keeps happening somehow. Like just last night, I don’t even understand how.”
They’re at a loss for words. I hand over the note.
“We’ve been leaving notes since the first night she was playing her music, just aggressive little comments. Until this one.”
Autumn’s face turns red as soon as her eyes scan the words. Vic’s smile is amused.
“Woah.”
“Damn, girl.”
“That’s dirtier than my books.”
We laugh, but I don’t think she fully realizes how dirty she’s making her books.
They drag every detail of information from me, until I’m tired of talking.
Me. Tired of talking. Doesn’t usually happen.
The final result is that my friends don’t like her, and I get it. I don’t even like her, but there’s something really helpful about hearing it from someone else. Maybe it’s the push I need to tell her to fuck off. I tell them I want to, I really do, and they give me ideas. Thankfully none of them involve moving out of my apartment, because the more I entertain the idea, the more I hate it.
I hear her coming and panic. Fight or flight kicks in and I choose flight. I stumble out of my seat, almost tripping on the slippers I had slipped off right in front of my chair. I leave my phone sitting there, despite what a terrible idea that is. It’s unlocked and playing yet another true crime video. My feet don’t want to listen to commands at the moment, so I decide to abandon the slippers after I manage to kick them a little further away from me.
My door isn’t waiting open for me this time, and in the seconds it takes me to twist the handle, I know I’m too late. I know she’s behind me.
I pause, feeling paralyzed by indecision. Acknowledge her or pretend I was already headed in? Super casually?
My pause is too long, and I know I lost the chance to decide without looking like a complete weirdo. I’m sure she already thinks that, but at least I’m a weirdo that gives good head.
I turn around slowly, and plant my back up against my door. She’s looking at me with a wry smile.
“Missed your chance to run away from me?”
My mouth doesn’t want to open to respond, so I just stare back at her.
“It’s probably better that you do,” she continues. “I’m a selfish bitch, after all.”
“Is that your own opinion of yourself, or going off of what I’ve said?” I ask.
“Both.”
“So you don’t care that you’re selfish? You’re owning that?”
She shrugs.
“It is what it is.”
I roll my eyes and turn back for my door before any unwanted feelings decide to pop up. They’re likely to if she keeps looking at me like that, and if I keep thinking about her stupid note.
Which I can’t stop doing. I’ve been thinking about it all day.
My phone chooses that moment to vibrate, and I’m not the only one that hears the loud sound against the solid table. It rattles the entire thing.
Great timing, whoever you are.
I go for it without looking over at her. Unfortunately I don’t need to be looking to know that she hasn’t moved, and she’s still standing there watching me. I shouldn’t be surprised, not given the circumstances, but I am. Surely she has better things to be doing right now.
“Poison, huh? Researching ways to get rid of me?”
I hit the pause button on the video she’s referencing and press my lips into a thin line.
“I think you’re more likely to be a killer between the two of us.”
“I don’t think so,” she says thoughtfully. “It’s usually the charming ones, isn’t it?”
“Are you admitting to thinking I’m charming?” I ask with a roll of my eyes.
Warmth floods me, and I don’t know if it’s in fear or subconscious excitement that she walks over and sits down in that chair across from me. That damned chair , I need to get rid of that thing.
“I’m just admitting I’m not.”
My legs have a mind of their own, and they make me sit. I clench my jaw, begging some part of me to have some self respect.
Hello, Reya’s body. Are we listening?
Not an inch of movement, not an ounce of intention to do so.
“What do you want?” I spit with as much venom as I can muster. At least my voice still works the way I want it to.
“You know,” is all she says.
“No thanks,” I reply.
Good , I tell myself. Keep that up.
She sticks her bottom lip out in a mocking little pout.
“That’s no fun.”
“Seeing you never is.”
“I bet you want to believe that,” she says.
“I do believe that! You think I enjoy your bad attitude, and being manipulated into some weird enemies-with-benefits situation?” I shout, and hope our neighbors still have that same deafness that comes in so handy with this woman’s late night concerts.
Her face falls, losing every bit of teasing. Now she’s angry, and I like that. Angry is something I can handle. It’s so much less complicated.
“You can’t accuse me of manipulating you just because you’re not happy with your own decisions. Own it,” she growls. “You didn’t do anything you didn’t want to.”
I groan, hating that her words are a partial truth. I want to blame her, but it’s not her fault I’m at war with myself. Not in that way, at least. If she had never come around, there never would’ve been anything to argue with myself about in the first place.
“I’m not in your head, so I don’t know what your game is here, but there is a game. You like pissing me off, and still being able to have some weird power over me.”
She goes back to smirking, and I mentally berate myself for admitting to that fact.
“Yeah, maybe I do,” she admits. “But I think you like your end of it too, it’s just harder for you to come to terms with.”
Crap, crap, crap.
I stand abruptly.
“I have to go.”
She laughs softly, and it’s the opposite of a warm sound.
So why do I want to hear it again?
“Do you?” she asks. “I can’t help but notice the door is closed tonight.”
Observant little shit.
“I know better than to confirm to a potential murderer if I’m home alone or not.”
My phone vibrates again, that same rattle ringing between us. The screen is facing up, still unlocked, and my eyes fall on the notification.
Unknown number: Thinking about that mouth of yours
That’s quite the prank text, because there’s not a single person that knows anything about my mouth that wouldn’t be–
I sit back down and tap on it. There’s a previous one.
Unknown number: Hey stranger. This is Bailey, remember me?
Well, she sure waited a damn long time to reach out. Not that I was waiting for a single second, and I doubt I’m going to bother responding now.
I lock my phone, and look back up at the woman I can’t seem to ignore that easily. There’s something new in her expression, but I can’t tell just how good or bad it is. She’s skilled at keeping certain things off of her face, I could’ve guessed that from the first second I saw her. There has to be more going on under the surface, and now I’m possibly seeing the smallest glimpse of it in her eyes.
I’m not any more of an eye reader than I am a mind reader.
“Look,” she starts as she leans back in her seat. Then she puts a finger up, and starts counting her following points. “We find each other attractive. We have easy access to each other. We could both probably use a good distraction, am I right?”
I snort.
“You find me attractive?”
Her brows pinch like the question is so unexpected.
“Yes. Have you seen yourself?”
Oh.
There are those butterflies again.
I shake my head, knocking out any ridiculous thoughts.
“Those are all beside the point. You’re… mean . Why would I reward you for the way you’ve treated me thus far, by–what? Agreeing to a situationship?”
Her hands clasp in front of her, a symbol of just how strictly business this conversation is.
“Let’s not even call it that. It would just be sex. We don’t even have to talk to each other.”
“I don’t see how that benefits me.”
She glances down to my phone screen with a knowing–or maybe she only thinks she knows something–look.
“You must see something, or you wouldn’t still be sitting here,” she points out.
I sigh.
“ Maybe you have a point on the convenience of it all,” I admit. “But how do I know you’re going to make it worth my while?”
“I could make my case right now.” My breath catches when she stands and heads for her front door. “So are you going to let me?”
I hardly even hesitate.
Of course I am.