Chapter 13
13
DAISY
I’m applying the final layer of yellow polish to my toenails when Bryce gets home. My older sister, Giana, is rambling about one of the players on the Vancouver Warriors hockey team who won’t stop ruffling her hair every time she asks for him to pose for a photo, but I’ve given up listening. She loves men, but they’re also one of the only topics she’ll call me just to complain about.
I screw the top of the nail polish bottle tight and set it on my nightstand before leaning forward to try and sneak a look at Bryce walking down the hall. The longer I wait for her to pass the door, my back hunched over and toes spread to avoid messing up the polish, the louder my sister gets until I can’t ignore her any longer.
“Hello? Sorry I’m so boring. You could have just hung up instead of ignoring me.”
“What?”
I lean back and bring my eyes back to the screen, giving up on seeing Bryce. Giana’s scowling at me, her dark brows scrunched together and green eyes sharp behind her long lashes.
“I wasn’t ignoring you, Gi.”
She scoffs loudly. “Yes, you were. ”
“Okay, I was a little bit.”
“First, Johnny doesn’t pick up the phone, and now, you don’t even pay attention to me when I’m ranting about a total bugger of a goalie.”
“This is what you get for moving away,” I poke.
She jams a finger into the screen and hisses, “Don’t start with me, Daisy. You know how I feel about Cherry Peak.”
“Small town with small dreams, Gi. Yes, I know.”
It’s the reason she left the moment she graduated high school. We all saw it coming, but it still sucked. Giana has always had big plans for her life, and while some people get lucky finding success in Cherry Peak, she didn’t want to risk it. Vancouver was somewhere she always wanted to go despite the skyrocketing housing and gas prices.
She attended university there and worked incredibly hard to nail a job as the social media coordinator for the Vancouver Warriors NHL team.
We’re proud of her, but the distance sucks. Our family is very close, and not having her nearby weighs on all of us. Especially our moms.
“Don’t say it like that,” Giana pleads, eyes softening.
“I didn’t say it like anything. You’re happy, and that makes me happy.”
I flash her a supportive smile and relax into the pillows at my back. They’re pretty flat and uncomfortable, but on my list of things to purchase, pillows aren’t anywhere close to the top. Until I start working again, I’m going to have to be pretty frugal. Just like when I was in university, I’m ready to live off ramen and no-name cereal.
“Are you going to tell me why you were so distracted just now, or do I have to dig?” Gi asks.
I’m not ashamed of the way I’m keeping an ear out for Bryce. She still hasn’t walked by, and I’m a few minutes away from going to see why.
“I just thought I heard my roommate get home. ”
“Right. Bryce?” She waits for me to nod before continuing. “How is that going? I don’t blame you for not wanting to stay with Johnny and Aurora. It was bad enough having to when I was down for Christmas.”
“Yes, Bryce. And they’re in love, Gi. I’ll suffer if it means Johnny’s happy.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “You’re too nice. He’s your twin, but it’s okay for you to still get annoyed with him when he’s being inconsiderate.”
“He hasn’t been inconsiderate.”
“Keeping everyone up at night with his sex noises is inconsiderate.”
I reach down to touch my toenails. Once I’ve concluded that they’re dry enough, I tuck my chilled feet below my blanket.
“You sound jaded. When’s the last time you dated?”
“We’re not getting into my dating life right now.”
I lift a brow. “Oh, we’re not? Why?”
“Back to Bryce. You didn’t answer my question. How is that going?” she asks, putting the pressure on me instead of her.
I let it go. “It’s been good.”
“Good?”
“Good,” I reply coyly.
She leans close to the camera, trying to stare into my soul. “Nuh-uh. Tell me everything.”
I don’t have a chance. As if summoned by Giana’s demand, Bryce finally walks down the hallway. I lurch forward on the bed when she goes to pass my door without stopping, searching for a glance of her ugly work attire.
“Bryce?” I call.
She stops instantly and then takes one step backward, looking into my room. It’s her house, but she inspects the space like she’s never seen it before. I haven’t done much to it besides add my thin, cheap pillows, bedding, and thick blackout curtains. The desk was already here when I moved in, but I guess maybe it does look different with my school calendar spread over it and my cup of pens and markers in the corner.
The two tubs of school supplies I’ve yet to bring to my classroom are shoved into the corner of the room, but she doesn’t pay that mess much mind.
“Hey,” she says once she’s finished looking around.
“How was work?”
Once I ask the question, I realize she’s not in the same clothes she was this morning. I’m instantly alert as I stare—or more like gawk—at her new outfit. I’ve never seen her in anything like this before. Short jean skirts, yes. But not tight spandex shorts that ride high on her thighs, exposing the exact curve of the peach tattoos she told me hurt to have inked, and a tank top that’s been chopped right under the bust.
My pulse quickens, and I snap my eyes upward, finding crystal-blue ones waiting. At first, I think she’s annoyed with me for staring at her, but when she slips inside my room, hovering at the door, I start to doubt that.
“Poppy dragged me to pole,” she says, explaining her outfit with a wave of her hand down her body.
“Ignore me one more time, Daisy, and I’m going to block your number,” Giana threatens.
I wince, remembering she’s still on FaceTime. Bryce cocks her head at the other voice in the room with us but doesn’t say anything.
‘Sorry, Gi. Do you want to say hi to Bryce?”
“I mean, it would be nice, yeah” is her answer.
Before I turn the phone, I focus on Bryce, waiting for her to shake her head or tell me outright she doesn’t want to speak with my sister. We’re supposed to be making it known that we’re together, but if she isn’t ready, I won’t push.
I’m still working on getting over the guilt that comes with the whole lying to my family thing, but I know they’d understand if they ever did find out the truth. Until then, they’re not going to know that we’re not really dating. It won’t last forever, and once we’ve “broken up,” everyone will forget about it.
Bryce holds my stare and nods. It’s hardly more than a sharp jerk of her chin, but I have a feeling I won’t get more than that right now.
She crosses the room and hovers at the edge of the bed. For someone who was just working out, she smells really good. Like her usual spiced berry perfume, but with something almost a bit sweet thrown in.
Definitely not paying too much attention to the inches she keeps between her arm and my bent knee, I bring the phone between us so we’re both visible and grin at my sister.
“Say hi, Giana,” I muse.
My sister huffs a laugh. “Hi, Bryce.”
“Hey,” Bryce says.
“Daisy was just telling me all about you.”
“I was not!” I argue, my neck warming. Swinging my head, I stare up at Bryce. “I definitely was not.”
My new roommate and fake girlfriend watches me for all of three seconds before asking my sister, “What did she tell you?”
“Just that you keep a jar of old fingernail clippings on your bedside table.”
The corner of Bryce’s mouth twitches, and I itch to reach up and lift it higher, curious as to what a real, happy smile looks like on her.
“I hope you don’t mind that I only told her that once she admitted how you keep a tooth from each of your exes in a sock under your pillow,” Bryce replies, completely straight-faced.
Giana covers her mouth, gasping loudly. “Daisy! That’s a secret!”
“Oops.”
“It seems that my girlfriend has loose lips,” Bryce states.
I press my lips together to hide my sharp inhale when she just flat out drops that bomb like it’s such an easy, casual thing to say. I’m grateful that she was the one to bring it up, but damn. I wasn’t expecting it.
“I’m sorry, what?” Giana asks, all signs of her humour gone.
I smile too big, hoping it will help her relax. “Surprise!”
Giana clears her throat, eyes blinking furiously. Bryce doesn’t waver beneath my sister’s heavy gaze, but that doesn’t surprise me. She’s got a backbone that I would kill to borrow for a day or two.
“Is this a prank?” Giana accuses.
I fidget on the mattress and reach for a pillow, tugging at the edge of its cover. “No, Gi.”
She focuses harder on us, nose crinkling slightly. “Then why are you standing so far apart? Do you not like to touch one another? Because touch is an important part of a relationship. Momma taught us that.”
The question startles me. It’s a valid one, but not one I’m sure how to answer. Thankfully, I’m pretty quick with thinking on my feet.
While Bryce stands frozen in place, her tongue jabbing into her cheek, I slide to the edge of the bed and grab her hand. She jolts at the contact but hides it with a twist of her body, posture loosening muscle by muscle. I thread our fingers together and rest them gently in my lap.
Her breaths are audible, heavy, and I’d bet mine sound the same. I’m content with the small contact, and when Giana leans back from the camera, it seems so is she.
“New relationship jitters? Been there,” she says.
I blow out a relieved breath. “Yeah, we’re still a bit awkward.”
“How did it happen? And why wasn’t I called immediately after?”
This is what I was waiting for and thought about all morning. Every word falls off my tongue like a well-rehearsed script.
“It only happened a few days ago, Gi. Once I moved in and we got to spending time together, it was obvious that Bryce was someone that I wanted to get to know even better. And the connection was just . . . instant. I’ve been away for so long, and I decided I didn’t want to waste any time beating around the bush.”
“And that was that? You both felt the same way?” She’s speaking to Bryce now.
“I’ve felt that way for a while now. I was waiting for Daisy to catch up.”
Bryce’s statement sounds incredibly honest. So much so that my cheeks heat despite the lie I know is hidden within it. Maybe I didn’t have to worry about us being able to pull this off after all.
Gazing up at her, I let loose a lazy smile and hope it helps convince my sister that we’re not lying out of our asses right now.
Bryce might very well be the selling point here because the way she stares at me, a foreign spark in those guarded eyes of hers that drags a soft touch along my rib cage, has me wondering if I’m going to survive the next few weeks or find myself chewed up and spit out.
Is it bad to consider if that would even be a bad outcome? Call me a glutton for punishment, but I could think of worse ways to go.
I try not to focus on the soft, strong hand in mine and turn back to my sister. She may as well be audibly swooning as she stares back and forth between us. It’s a win as obvious as any.
One down . . . only a dozen more to go.