Chapter 20 #3
Kiley stood on the other side, her expression curdling when their eyes met. Her gaze flicked downward, taking in the oversized hockey jersey hanging off Oakland’s frame.
“Why aren’t you ready?” she demanded, her lip curling. “And—what are you wearing?”
Oakland tensed, fingertips brushing the fabric at her chest. Shit. She knew exactly what this looked like.
“It’s not what it looks like,” she blurted, then winced. Nice. Very convincing.
Kiley scoffed, her voice lowering to a whisper. “Really? Because it looks like you’re wearing the jersey your lesbian friend wore last night. Did she sleep here? I know she’s a lesbian, Oakland. I found her online.”
Oakland rolled her eyes. “Why are you saying lesbian like that?”
“Oakland! What the hell are you doing?” Kiley screeched, her voice slicing through the hall.
“Kiley, I have no idea what you’re—” She stopped mid-sentence, realizing how pointless it was.
Kiley was in full interrogation mode, and Oakland didn’t have the energy.
Instead, she sighed, rubbing a hand over her face as Kiley kept going, something about how she knew this was coming, how disappointed Dad would be, how she should’ve expected?—
Oakland just let her voice blur into the background, staring past her into the hallway, counting the cracks in the paint, wishing she had ignored the damn door in the first place.
Kiley’s jaw tightened. “I can’t believe you are behaving like this. I thought you were past this thing.”
Before Oakland could fire back, Christine shuffled into view, mid-yawn, rubbing a fist against her bleary eyes.
Her hair was a wreck, and her jeans unbuttoned just enough to confirm she had given up on life the night before.
She didn’t even acknowledge Kiley—just zombie-walked straight past her and into the bathroom, scratching her butt like she was the only person in existence.
Because of course.
Kiley’s face went pale.
Oakland sighed, rubbing her temple. “Why are you even here right now?”
“Dad told me to pick you up for church,” Kiley said, voice clipped.
Oakland blinked. “Oh. Well, I’ll be late. Tell him I’m sick or something.”
Kiley hesitated as if waiting for an honest answer. “You want me to lie?”
“Sure.”
Her mouth opened, then snapped shut.
Christine reappeared from the bathroom, gaze flicking between the two sisters. The tension in the air was suffocating.
Kiley took a breath, her hands curling into fists. “I’m going to tell him what I saw here. He’s going to be so pissed.”
“No, you won’t,” Oakland eyed her sister cautiously. “Because if you do, I’ll tell him about the time you gave that drummer a hand job when you went on your mission.”
“You wouldn’t.” Kiley’s nostrils flared, searching for a response. When it didn’t come, she turned on her heel and stormed down the hall.
Oakland let out a slow breath, shutting the door and pressing her forehead against it.
Behind her, Christine shifted. “That didn’t sound great,” she murmured.
Oakland turned, shaking her head. “She won’t say anything,” though the doubt in her voice was impossible to ignore. “Kiley’s dramatic, but she doesn’t want to hurt me.”
She hoped.
Christine didn’t look convinced. And then, before Oakland could say anything else, Christine stepped forward and wrapped her in a tight, lingering hug.
Oakland melted into it, burying her face in the crook of Christine’s neck. She smelled warm, like sleep, like something sweet Oakland couldn’t quite place. Her lips hovered over the soft skin of Christine’s throat, aching to press against it, to linger.
Christine pulled back slightly, her fingers trailing lazily down Oakland’s arm, leaving a path of warmth in their wake.
“I should get home to Gruit,” she murmured, voice still thick with sleep.
Oakland swallowed, ignoring how her skin burned under Christine’s touch. “Yeah,” she said, voice rough. “I have church.”
She reached for the hem of the jersey, but Christine’s hands caught hers, thumbs brushing over her knuckles like it was second nature.
“You keep it,” Christine said, smirking. “I dig the way my name looks on you.”
Oakland huffed, shaking her head. “Technically, it’s your sister’s name.”
Christine just winked as she shrugged into her coat. She was almost out the door, nearly gone—but something pulled her back. A quiet, invisible gravity neither of them questioned.
She leaned in, slower this time. And instead of her lips finding Oakland’s, she pressed a kiss to her cheek, just near the corner of her mouth. Not quite bold. Not quite innocent. It lingered for a second longer than it should have.
Oakland froze. Not in shock or fear, but in the way someone freezes when they’re trying to make time stop.
Christine pulled back, her eyes tracing Oakland’s face like she wanted to capture every detail before it faded.
“Sorry,” she said quietly, brushing her fingers through Oakland’s sleeve. “Instinct.”
Oakland’s voice was barely there. “It’s okay.”
Christine smiled, softer now. “I’ll miss you.”
She turned and left, the door clicking softly behind her.
And Oakland stood there, hand lifting to her cheek, where the warmth still lingered.
?