Chapter 21 Ace
Ace
Kingston left a few minutes after my little moment––as I like to call it––when he received a call on his cell from someone named D.
I didn’t hear the details, but it didn’t really matter.
With a soft kiss against my forehead and a muttered, “Talk soon,” he was out the window, and all I was left with was the memory of my first big O. With another person, anyway.
I slept like the dead in my lonely twin-sized bed, only to wake up with a giant grin on my face before doing some quick grocery shopping, then searching the internet for a Macey Johnson.
When I see a fake Facebook profile pop up, along with a fake family, fake friends, and a few fake status updates, I catch myself nodding in approval. Not too shabby, Kingston. Not too shabby at all.
Closing my laptop in satisfaction, I peek through my window that Kingston escaped through. The sun is starting to set in the sky, and my stomach rumbles.
Dottie’s, here I come.
“You look chipper,” Gigi quips while sipping her coffee. Her piercing green eyes are narrowed as she assesses me before pushing a plate of fresh eggs toward me. “Here. Mama Gigi ordered your eggs. You’re welcome.”
With a grin, I reach for the plate and dig in. “Thanks,” I say through a mouthful of food. “And what kind of a word is chipper anyway?”
She waves me off. “I grew up in a weird family. We use words like chipper and darlin’ and sip Old Fashioneds on the weekend. So, sue me.”
With a grin, I ask, “Now, Gigi, it almost sounds like you’re describing a rich family who vacations in the Hamptons. What are you not telling me?”
“Trust me, you couldn’t be further off,” she corrects me before rolling her eyes. “But we do say, ‘chipper.’ So what’s with the smile and the pep in your step?”
“Pep in my step?”
“Yes. There is a definite pep in your step.”
“And, how does one step with pep?” I razz.
“Oh, shut up and spill it.”
Rule #6 makes an appearance before I shove it away, pretending I’m a normal girl who’s allowed to have normal gossip with one of her normal best friends.
Smiling softly at the memory of Kingston from earlier, Gigi interrupts before I have a chance to utter a single word.
“You met someone, didn’t you?” With an accusatory tone, a curious Gigi plants her elbows on the table and leans forward in rapt attention as I consider her comment.
Have I met someone? It feels so weird to have someone say those words to me.
Meet someone? Me? Not possible. I don’t meet people.
I don’t have flings. I don’t do what I did last night.
Ever. But then memories of Kingston and me resurface, and my grin nearly splits my face in two.
“Maybe….”
“Don’t maybe me…you met someone!” she practically screeches, “Oo…give me the details. Who is he? How did you meet? And has he given you the big O yet?” Suggestively, she bounces her brows up and down while my face lights on fire.
“Gigi! Will you shut up?” My voice is high-pitched and squeaky enough to make my face even redder as it cracks on the last word.
With a laugh, a satisfied Gigi shakes her head. “Nope. No deal. Girl code, Ace. It’s a rule. And we all know how great you are with those. Now, spill.”
I scrunch my face before I finally give in.
“Yes,”—I look around the empty diner—“I did kind of meet someone.”
“Kind of?”
“Well,” I hedge, “it’s a weird situation. But I think I like him.”
“You think?” She grins, challenging me.
Throwing my hands into the air, I huff out, “Oh, will you shut up? I don’t know how I feel, okay? It’s complicated.”
“How is it complicated?” As if she doesn’t have a care in the world, she takes another sip of coffee while she waits for me to explain.
Shifting in my seat, I try to do just that.
“He’s…,” I pause, trying to find the best way to make her understand.
“He’s not someone I would normally date.
We aren’t exactly in the same social circle, and I don’t really think he’s what most people would consider boyfriend material.
” I grimace as soon as the ‘B’ word rolls off my tongue.
Plus, using the word date to describe what we’re doing feels wrong too.
He’s using me for information then snuck into my apartment a few times before kissing me.
If that’s not the definition of unconventional, I don’t know what is.
“Boyfriend, eh? Sounds like it could be serious if you’re considering a relationship.”
“I don’t know what I’m considering anymore. Boys, in general, have never been part of the plan. But—”
“Shiiiiit,” Gigi interrupts me, fidgeting with her cup, her shoulders slumping until she’s almost a lump in the corner of the booth.
“Wait, what is it?” I ask in confusion, looking around the diner.
“Look, I gotta go. But I’ll see you later, okay? How ‘bout we meet here after the tournament? What do you think?”
Rule #3: If something feels fishy, it probably is. And my warning bells are clanging like crazy right now.
Grabbing her wrist, I stop her from running. “What’s going on, G?”
She’s always kept her life hidden from me, and I’ve always respected her privacy, but right now feels different. Like I need to step in. Like I need to know why she looks so freaked out even though I know she won’t let me get close enough to find out.
“Nothing. Promise. Everything is fine, but I really gotta go. See you tomorrow! And good luck!”
With a twist of her wrist, a panicked Gigi disappears out the back of the diner in the blink of an eye as I mumble a single word under my breath.
“Lie.”