Chapter 6 Lily
SIX
LILY
“He said what?” Thea screeches over the line.
Wincing, I pull the phone away from my ear and put it on speaker.
“Girl, if you don’t give me all the information you know about him, I’m going to strangle it out of you.”
“Oh, yes, he did,” I stammer, throwing on a red sweat set and removing my makeup. I’m never going on another date. I would rather be a bunny lady. “He even said he didn’t want to waste his time on me. Can you believe that?! I was the one sitting there, having to endure a disrespectful man.”
“Do you think if we go into town, we can find him?” I hear keys clinking together on her end. “I hear it hurts really bad when guys are kicked in their balls.”
A laugh bursts out of me as I slip into my comfiest pair of fuzzy socks. I head downstairs to make a warm cup of lemon water.
“I’m already wearing my indoor clothes, so the ball kicking will have to be on another day.”
She huffs, “You’re no fun.” I can imagine the fake pout that’s on her face. “Do you know what you are?”
“It’s not like I haven’t heard enough insults today. Hit me.” I roll my eyes, leaning against the counter as I wait for my water to boil.
“You’re a grandma.” She snorts.
“Whoa, that was so creative.” I hope she can hear the sarcasm in my voice. “Must have taken you a lot of brainstorming to come up with that one. Bitch.”
“Dick,” she says too quickly before erupting into a fit of laughter.
Most days, I want to strangle her, but she watched me shatter when my parents died, picked up the pieces, and didn’t care how long it took to glue me back together.
I place my phone on the counter once the kettle starts whistling. “How about we stay single for the rest of our lives and adopt a kid together?”
Just as she sighs, a knock on my door sends me temporarily into shock.
“Are you outside my house? Stop fucking with me,” I scold, anxiously running my hand through my hair.
“Has anyone brought to your attention that you’re extremely moody?”
Tiptoeing through the kitchen, I peek into the hallway and stare at the door.
I choose to ignore her last comment. “So, you didn’t just knock on my front door?” I whisper, biting my lip.
Static silence is all I hear.
A yelp flies out of my mouth when another knock sounds at my door, but this one is a little louder. Almost like they know I’m hiding from them in my home.
“Lily, are you okay? Why did you scream?” my best friend stresses over the line.
“They knocked again.” I place a hand to my chest.
“Is the door locked?” she says slowly, like she thinks I’m dumb.
“Yes.”
“Then what are you afraid of?”
I huff, glancing over my shoulder. “What if they break in? I can’t defend myself. Do you know me? I call you sometimes to kill spiders.” My stomach twists in knots.
Reason number five hundred of why I hate living alone: when someone knocks on my door at night when they should be home.
Thea sighs, “Are you just standing there?”
I glare down at my phone, picturing pinching her. I flinch and pout when my doorbell rings. The sound waves bounce along every wall.
“I’m not telling you to open the door. Just go and spy.”
Being a big girl, I watch the door like it might fly open and hit me as I walk down the hallway. Bending down slightly, I squint one eye and peer out the peephole.
Oh.
My.
God.
Oh my God.
My phone drops, and I’m not thinking as my sweaty hands fumble to get the door unlocked. I forget all the hurt and all the unanswered questions when I see his conflicted face.