24. Chapter 24
24
“ A re you actually reading a book?”
I snap it shut and set it on my stomach, preparing for whatever snarky thing she’s going to say about it.
“Yeah, so what?”
“I guess I’m just surprised. I’ve never seen you with a book before.”
She actually hasn’t. I avoid reading as much as possible, it gives me a headache.
“It’s a rare occurrence, but I have to do it every now and then.”
“Because it’s good for the brain or something?”
I sit up straighter, hearing the judgment in her voice. Does she really think it would be ridiculous if that was my reason? I’m allowed to want to improve myself.
“Not really. This is more like required reading. An assignment, if you will.”
“Says the woman who hasn’t been in school for at least–” she starts counting on her fingers– “seven years.”
I chuckle.
“A friend of mine wrote it, and I never miss the opportunity to support her. She’s really good actually, I can’t even complain. This is her third one, and she keeps getting better.”
“What’s it about?” She’s on her phone, seeming uninterested, but I share anyway.
I really never miss the opportunity.
“This one is about a woman who starts hooking up with her celebrity crush every time he goes on tour. When he’s in her city. It’s kind of sad, actually.”
Kara raises a brow.
“What could be sad about that? Sounds ideal.”
She would think that. Commitment-phobe.
“Because she’s emotionally unavailable, so they only talk in person. Once a year.” She still doesn’t get it. “That means that all year long they’re both pining, and sad, and waiting for their next chance.”
I think about not getting to see Kara for an entire year, and it’s awful to even imagine. She might get on my nerves a lot of the time, but she’s also fun. Interesting. Smart. Sexy.
I’m thrilled about how often we can have sex.
“I guess I’d be bummed out if I only saw you once a year,” she says quietly. Almost like she didn’t mean to say the words out loud. Almost like she was reading my mind.
Then she rises from her chair to stand by my side. She holds a hand out in front of me and I take it, squeezing slightly. It’s as much as I’m allowing myself to say. Anything more and she’ll probably go running for the hills.
Suddenly, she drops herself in my lap and I let out an oomph at the surprise of it. Not because she’s heavy, and not because it’s not comfortable.
“You’ve just given me way too much power,” I tell her as I place a kiss on her shoulder and wrap my arms around her waist.
She faces me and bows her head, her way of asking for a kiss that she can’t reach. I waste no time pressing my lips against her much softer, much plumper ones. And then I do it again.
And again.
And before I know it, we’re making out right on my front porch where anyone could walk by, look up, and see.
The thought of it makes me pull away slightly, enough to giggle. When I collect myself and go back for more, she’s smiling.
“What?” she asks.
“For two people who hate PDA, we’re really going for it.”
She laughs at that, in between more kissing.
“I can’t help myself. This may become a problem.”
“Doesn’t sound like that much of a problem, if I’m honest.”
Except that the sound of nearby tires on pavement makes us both spring into action. She quickly removes herself from my lap, I quickly wipe away the Chapstick that ended up around my lips instead of on them.
The car does nothing but drive by, being as harmless as ever. It wasn’t someone we know, it wasn’t someone gawking.
I don’t know why I haven’t told my friends about this. It just hasn’t felt like there was anything to really talk about, but everyday feels a little more intense.
I haven’t told Caleb, obviously, because that slimy snake decided to lie to me about his own girlfriend being around my daughter. At least what I’m doing is unavoidable, I can’t keep Dahlia locked inside and away from potentially bumping into the girl next door.
Kara goes back inside for a minute, and comes back out with a folder full of papers. Homework.
She sits across from me, scrawling the occasional words on a page. I keep reading my book. It’s nice.
I look up every minute or so to see how much progress she’s made, and her pace is good. I don’t want to interrupt and ask what exactly she’s working on, but I’m impressed either way.
“You hum when you read,” she says after a few minutes. “Do you realize you do that?”
“What are you talking about?” I wasn’t humming. I’m too focused on the words on the page to be doing anything else.
“Exactly what I said. You hum.”
“No, I don’t,” I say.
She puts a hand out in question.
“Okay, you’re right. I lied. I haven’t been sitting here for the past ten minutes listening to you or anything.”
I look at her like I’m waiting for her to say she’s kidding, but she’s being serious. How have I never noticed that before?
I almost start to apologize, but I get the feeling I don’t need to. She doesn’t seem irritated or overstimulated. In fact, she looks like she could sit there and listen to me hum all day.
Kara grabs the book I was reading, snapping me out of my thoughts. It’s facing down, so she starts by scanning the back.
“ If I read this kind of thing, it might sound interesting.”
“It is,” I say. “You should try it out, you might realize you’ve been a closeted romance book lover this entire time.”
She rolls her eyes and flips it over to the cover.
Then she freezes, and the energy between us shifts.
“Reya,” she whispers.
“What?” I stand, something telling me to worry. The way she says my never has never sounded so vulnerable. Or scared.
I didn’t know Kara could feel those things.
She doesn’t respond, just continues staring at the cover. The closer I look, the more I think she’s not actually seeing it. She’s zoned out, her mind elsewhere.
“What? Are you good?”
She shakes her head so slightly, it’s almost unnoticeable.
“You’re scaring me. Can you speak, please?”
Her beautifully manicured hand holds up the book, the front cover facing my direction.
“Autumn Lane— Autumn Owens. That’s your best friend?” Her voice sounds weak and strained.
I nod, confused. What the hell does Autumn have to do with anything? How does she even know her, or know that she uses a pen name?
More questions keep flying around in my head.
“Yeah? So what?”
She shakes her head again.
“So what, Kara?” I snap.
I need to know what has that look on her face. I’m not patient enough for her to simply sit there and stare and not answer me. There’s a panicked, wild feeling flowing through my body, and I need her to calm it. She could easily do so, but she’s not. Wondering the reason while she stays silent makes it worse and worse by the second.
She slowly puts the book down without looking up at me. If I wasn’t freaking out, I’d tell her she’s losing points right now. But I’m between angry and concerned, I don’t know which one is more prevalent.
If she used her words , I might have a clue.
I watch as her lips purse to let out a slow exhale, the kind that’s required when someone is stressed.
“Tell me why the hell that book is stressing you out, right now.”
When she shakes her head again, I’m ready to explode. It’s definitely anger that’s winning.
I snatch the book off of the little table and storm around her to go back inside my apartment. I could have a very nice, very relaxing afternoon on my own. I can read my book without anyone’s stubborn silence in my proximity.
Her hand reaches out to grab my wrist before I can get past her.
I pause. This is the part where she gives up and tells me, I think. It should be.
A few seconds pass. A few more.
Maybe not.
I go to pull, but then I hear her quietly speak.
“I really like you, Reya.”
Oh.
That’s not what I thought she was getting at.
“Did this cover make you realize that?” I lift it up and really examine it for the first time. A cartoon cover with a blonde woman and a dark-haired man. They stare after each other, but they stand apart.
It’s beautiful artwork, but nothing about it would make me think of Kara.
“Your best friend is Autumn Owens,” she says again, but this time it's a statement. Her voice sounds hollow.
“That is correct.”
“Your best friend is dating Miles Cress.”
I squint, and shift my weight to one foot. I don’t like where this is going. I don’t like how defeated the words sound.
“Yeah, actually. How do you know that?”
When she buries her face in her hands, I think I suddenly know. I think the only scenario in which her reaction makes sense is…
“I never asked his name,” I whisper. “Your ex, I—“
“Nope. You didn’t.” When she looks up at me, her eyes are sad. “Miles is my ex-husband, and I’m fairly certain your best friend hates my guts.”
I stagger backwards like I’ve been wounded.
This can’t be real.
“You’re kidding,” I breathe.
But I know she’s not kidding.
She’s shaking her head aggressively, and if I didn’t know any better I would think she was about to start crying.
This can not be happening.
I run inside my apartment. My fight or flight mode has been activated, and I’m choosing flight. I have to go, I have to get far away from what I just learned.
My car keys are sitting on my kitchen counter. I snatch them up and storm outside again, aiming towards the parking lot without looking in her direction.
“Wait, sunshine—I—“
“Don’t call me that right now,” I say as I struggle to take in air.
I stumble going down the stairs, and catch myself on the railing before I can fall. I’m being stupid, and irresponsible, and need to get my head on straight, but it all feels so impossible. Everything does.
She places a hand on my arm, pleading with me.
“I didn’t know! Can’t you tell I’m just as shocked as you are?”
That might be true, sure. I wouldn’t know, because my mind is foggy, and everything feels wrong, and I trust nothing.
Nothing.
Autumn is my family. She’s so important to me.
And she spent a lot of time crying on my shoulder over what this woman did to her.
“Even if, I mean…” I’m on the move again, needing to get to my car. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve held a grudge towards you? I’ve hated you for years . You bullied my best friend. You tossed her out, and gave her no choice but to live in her car.” She nods, but I’m not done. “In the middle of winter! ”
She nods along, admitting to it all. That’s good at least. I already know everything, lying wouldn’t help her case.
“I haven’t even fully forgiven Miles for that yet, and he’s done everything in his power to redeem himself! You’ve done nothing. You’re not even a better person than you used to be,” I point out.
She winces like my words are a physical attack, and I feel bad the second they’re out. I can’t help that I don’t have a filter, but I can own what I say. I do own those words, as hurtful as they are.
Kara’s not a better person. She still doesn’t care about anyone’s feelings but her own.
I thought she cared about mine, but what if it’s all in my head? I fell for her suspiciously fast, and it’s all been so intense. What if I want to believe she cares about me, so I’ve convinced myself she does?
What does that even change? Nothing.
She’ll still be the person that did what she did, and acts how she acts.
It’s not enough that it’s not directed at me anymore. It could be, at any time.
And Autumn…oh my god, it would hurt her so bad to find out. She’d be crushed. Heartbroken. Betrayed.
“Reya, I am,” she says softly as she follows after me. “I have. I mean, I’m at least learning a lot. In therapy. Because I want to be better. And if I wasn’t so sure just how unwelcome my presence would be in either of their lives, I’d apologize. Not because I deserve forgiveness, but because she should know that I am the fucked up one.”
The fucked up one, my thoughts repeat her words over and over.
The fucked up one. I don’t have room for that in my life. I have a daughter to protect.
“I can’t do this,” I gasp.
“No, no, no.” She’s panicking now. I make the mistake of looking back at her face, and she’s more distraught than I ever knew she could be capable of. “Please don’t leave. Talk to me.”
I plop my head against the top of my car door, and the second my face is hidden I start to cry.
“I need space. I need to think,” I wheeze. “They’re my friends. Both of them. They’re having a baby, and they worked so hard to have–” My sentence is cut off by my own uncontrollable sobs.
She starts to rub a comforting pattern on my back, but I can’t handle it.
“I need space,” I repeat quietly.
I hear her sniffle, and even the realization that she’s crying doesn’t convince me to turn around.
“Okay,” she rasps. “Okay, fine. Space. Take it.”
I step back, scuffing my feet on the ground as I give myself room to open my car door. I get inside without another look or another word. I start the engine, staring out the windshield, but not seeing anything.
Maybe I need a minute before I drive away.
“You’ll come back, right?” she asks, her muffled voice coming from my left. “We’ll talk?”
I give one nod, and hope it's enough. I wait for her to go, but I’m too scared to check if she does.
My first instinct is to go to Autumn. To cry on her shoulder, and spill it all, but I know I can’t. The timing is terrible. She has enough going on, and I can’t be the one to rain on her parade. I can’t tell her this .
My second instinct is to go to my parents, but they’ll take one look at me and want to talk it all out. I’m not ready to reach into the tornado going on in my head and pull out the specific words I need. I just want to let it spin and spin until it’s run its course. I’ll be able to rifle through the scattered debris a little better then.
I opt for the ice cream shop.
I order a milkshake, but my stomach is in knots. I take maybe two sips as I sit in the corner and stare out the big window. Families come in and out. Couples. Friends. I tune them out the best I can, because they’re all just a reminder of how overwhelmed I feel.
They probably glance at me with their peculiar looks, wondering what kind of weirdo is lurking at the far table. Not a lot of them sit inside, despite the chilly day, and I imagine I’m to blame.
Carly doesn’t kick me out, ever after the sixth group to hurry out after ordering, so I imagine I’m doing her somewhat of a favor. I’m keeping it quiet.
“Hey,” a soft voice comes from in front of me. My stare focuses back in, away from the dark clouds I’d be watching. Carly stands in front of me, a pitying smile on her face. “Sorry, it’s closing time.”
I blink. I must have been sitting here for hours.
“Thanks,” I tell her. My voice is harsh and raspy from not being used, and I clear it.
She walks away with nothing else, and I’m relieved. I dig in my wallet only to find a twenty, and don’t even care. I drop it in the tip jar as I leave.