Trust by Kylie Scott

  Apparently so.

  "I hear there was another party at Sabrina's last night." Hang watched me out of the corner of her eye. "Apparently it was lit, going off, super-duper, and all of these things."

  "Anders called you?"

  "Texted," she corrected. "Wanted to know why we weren't there."

  "What did you tell him?"

  "That we had work today and needed to get some sleep."

  I nodded. "Which is the truth."

  "Yes, it is."

  "You know, Anders really does seem to like you. Are you sure you're not into him just a little bit?"

  "Let's talk about John."

  I shut up.

  "Girls!" Miriam swept past us on one of her regular checks. "How are you doing?"

  Head to toe, the woman exuded class in her neat white linen shift dress and navy apron with the company name embroidered across her chest.

  Meanwhile, I was all bulges in the tight straight dress, the largest size Miriam had been able to locate. Boobs, belly, butt, and thighs. And white was such a meh of a color on me. The navyk apron seemed only barely up to the job of holding me together. Any sudden wrong movement on my part and a seam might split. I lived in perpetual fear of it all falling apart. Here's hoping the dimples in my knees would distract people from my slightly overwhelming show of curves.

  "You're already finished pricing those?" asked Miriam with a brilliant smile. "That's great. You know, that job would have taken the last lot all day and they still would have messed it up."

  We both smiled back at her.

  Earlier, she'd confided that the previous employees who held our positions had been busted smoking a joint in the storeroom. This worked out great for me and Hang. With them being so amazingly crappy, Miriam's expectations were low. So long as we turned up every Saturday, were coherent and got stuff done, she'd be happy.

  Best job ever.

  "I'm so glad Sophia told me about you two." Hands on hips, she surveyed our work. "And they're all sorted correctly. How do you feel about cushions?"

  Hang turned to me.

  "Ecstatic," I said.

  "Great." With all the grace of a game-show hostess, Miriam directed our attention toward a full wall of shelving in disarray. "Some customers went through them yesterday. Left everything a complete mess. Do a cushion display that wows me, girls."

  "You got it," said Hang.

  I surveyed the wreckage of ruffles and fringing, buttons and bows. A few had been stuffed back into shelves, but most were still on the floor. "I'm thinking a rainbow, gay pride sort of statement."

  Hang nodded. "I like it."

  We got to work.

  "Things got awkward with John post-sex, huh?" she asked, picking out all of the navy and dark blue cushions.

  My lips slammed shut. Again.

  "It's okay, Edie." She gave me a wry smile. "I know you don't like talking about him. Or anything at all."

  "I'm a shitty friend."

  "Nuh. You've just been through a lot. I get it." A cushion was held high. "Would you call this cobalt, royal blue, or sapphire?"

  "Cobalt, I guess? It's not you, Hang," I said, trying to figure out how to explain and getting frustrated with myself in the process. Me and my many issues. "My last friend really screwed me over."

  "That sucks."

  "Yeah," I agreed sadly. "Having her put it all out there, making my private stuff public, it wasn't a good feeling. People were already talking about me, saying all this weird shit about the robbery. One conspiracy theory idiot was convinced I was in on it with Chris. That I was his real girlfriend or something. It was all such bullshit. When they didn't have any real information to report on, they just made things up."

  Hang's lips were pinched, her gaze a mix of anger and sorrow.

  "That kind of attention, it's not a good thing. There's nothing fun about it," I said, fingers curling into fists. "It's like there's this spotlight on you and there's no escaping it. You're not a person to them; they don't care about what you think or how you feel. The only thing that matters to them is getting what they want out of you."

  Nope. I didn't sound bitter and twisted at all. Not even a little.

  I shrugged. "Anyway, it's pretty much over now. Moving on."

  "And John went through that too."

  "Yeah."

  "No wonder you two bonded. I mean that in a nonsexual way."

  I nodded. Fluffing up a denim-colored cushion, I placed it into the correct cubbyhole-style shelf for our rainbow scheme.

  "Sleeping with him was probably a mistake," I admitted, reaching for the next blue pillow. "I need him as a friend. He's the only one who gets what it was like that night. And afterward."

  "Sex can make things tricky."

  "I'm seeing this now."

  "Okay," she said. "Obviously, we need to invent a time machine. Go back to that night, and have you sleep with Duncan instead."

  And lose all of those lovely memories of John's skin against mine. What a horrible thought. Also, Duncan did nothing for me. Not in comparison to John.

  "Or not?" she asked tentatively.

  "Honestly, I've always had a bit of a crush on John. But now my pelvic region wants to do bad things with him all the time. I'm doomed." My shoulders drooped. Then I pulled them straight back up. "No. Things will return to normal. It'll just take some time. If I can avoid him for a while, all will be well."

  "That's why you ran off to have your lunch outside recently," she groaned. "I was worried we'd insulted you somehow or something."

  "No. I was hiding like a coward," I admitted. "I do that sometimes."

  Slowly, she nodded. "Okay. Well, you're a strange one, Miss Millen. And I mean that with great affection."

  "Why, thank you." I beamed. "I think you're quite odd yourself."

  "But back to the problem at hand. Sure, you could keep avoiding him." Her gaze, it didn't fill me with confidence. "It might work."

  "Absolutely it will work. He's always got so much going on, I bet he won't even notice if I drop out of sight for a while. I mean, I have to think positively. After all, we only bumped hips once." I held up a finger. "Just the once. You could almost say it was an accident."

  "Yeeeaah. No," she said. "I'm not buying that. You've just lost all credibility there."

  "Fine. But plenty of people have sex and it's nothing more than recreational. It means nothing to them, zip, nada, zero," I said. "It's just horizontal cardio with no clothes on. An orgasm or two and they're good to go, hitting the road."

  "Some people, yeah."

  I puffed out a breath. "Well, that could be me."

  Hang said nothing. A whole lot of it.

  "It could be."

  "Maybe." She grimaced. "But, if it was you, in this case, wouldn't we not be having this conversation?"

  I snapped my mouth shut. Turned away from my new female best friend and thought deep thoughts. Or at least tried to. Obviously, the validation I required would have to be found elsewhere. And while it was comforting that apparently Hang wouldn't be lying to me anytime soon, still . . .

  "Get away from me with your logic," I pouted.

  She held up a cushion. "Sky, arctic, or cornflower?"

  "Pale-ish light blue?" My brows rose in question. "I don't know. Let's just do this damn thing."

  "Right on." Carefully, she arranged it on a shelf. "So I shouldn't tell you about the field party Anders said is happening tonight?"

  "No. Best not to."

  She looked up at me from beneath her lashes. "Do you mind if I go? I mean, it's just . . . you know how Anders gets. The idiot will be texting me every other minute if I don't make an appearance. For some reason he's decided I'm fun to have around."

  "Absolutely, you should go. I'm sorry to be such a loser and bailing on you. It's just going to take me a while before I can go near John without imagining him with no pants on. I need to stay away from him," I said with great conviction. "At least for a little while."

  With a big sigh, she
nodded. "Honestly, Edie, that might be for the best."

  With another attempt at the book in the new fantasy series, a pint of chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream, and the starry sky overhead, I had my own Saturday-night party for one. It was perfect. Mom had said she was going out with some friends from work, but I don't know. Something was going on with her. Something that, I'm pretty sure, caused hickeys. At any rate, I had the house to myself. Ah, silence, peace, and serenity. I'd forgotten how good being in your own sacred space could be.

  I wasn't missing John at all. And I was absolutely not imagining that the hero in the book resembled him, because that would be wrong and directly contrary to what I was trying to achieve. Though it did sort of help with my focus issues.

  "Hey."

  I screeched, heart hammering inside my chest. A familiar size-and-shaped shadow stood outside my open window.

  "John," I said, breathing just a wee bit quickly. Honestly, you'd think I'd be getting used to his sudden appearances by now. "Holy shit."

  "Saw your bedroom light on, figured I'd just come around."

  "Of course you did." I set aside my book, shuffling over to the far side of my bed as he climbed up to sit on my window ledge. "Thought you'd be at the field party."

  "Could say the same of you."

  Guilt hit me hard. "First day of work, I was kind of tired. You know. Had a bit of a headache from all of the stupid scented candles."

  Head cocked, he nodded. Blue jeans and white shirt, his hair tied back into a ponytail. The cut of his cheekbones cast stark shadows on his face.

  "Yeah, it was big, real busy," I said, blathering on. "You know, napkin rings and cushions and stuff. Lots of necessary household items."

  "Right."

  I smiled.

  He didn't. "Want to tell me why you've been avoiding me, Edie?"

  "I haven--"

  "Don't!"

  I stopped. The tone of his voice didn't encourage debate. And yet. "John, I get that you're upset. But if you raise your voice at me again I'll push you out the fucking window. Understood?"

  For a second his eyelids squeezed shut, searching for control or something. "Sorry. But I'd really appreciate it if you didn't lie to me, Edie."

  "Okay." I took a deep breath. "All right."

  "What's going on?"

  I bit my lip and studied my hands, fingers twisted together in my lap. "Things have just gotten a bit weird for me. I just, I've been trying to deal with them, is all. Get them sorted out inside my head."

  "What things?"

  "You things."

  His face was like stone. "This is about us fucking, isn't it?"

  I flinched. "Yes."

  "Dammit, Edie. It's just sex. It didn't mean anything."

  Deep down inside, a small and hopefully insignificant part of me died. Some dumb hope that should never have existed in the first place. "I know. I'm screwing things up. I'm sorry."

  "We talked about exactly this before we did it. Why would you even get confused?"

  "I don't know," I cried. "I'm sorry, my feelings sometimes do their own thing. They don't always wait for permission. They're funny like that."

  He huffed and puffed and swore some more. "This is why you ignored my text the other night. I am always there for you when you need me."

  "You're right; that was extraordinarily crappy of me. I'm sorry." My stomach turned, a sour taste on my tongue. "Though it's not like you have problems finding company if you really want it."

  His eyes glinted cold. "I didn't need someone to fuck, I needed a friend. You."

  Then he turned to go, jumping down from my windowsill in one smooth move.

  "Wait. Wait!" I cried, throwing myself across the bed and hanging out the window. "John, don't go."

  The shadow of him hesitated.

  "I shouldn't have said that." The window ledge dug into my belly. "It was bitchy and unnecessary."

  "Yeah, it was."

  "You're right--I'm an asshole," I said, loud enough to include my neighbors in the conversation. FFS. "But to be fair, I've never done the sex thing before and you're really important to me. So maybe can you just cut me a little slack here, please?"

  He didn't turn back to face the dim light from my bedroom, his expression a mystery. "You're the one that wanted to lose it, Edie. It was all your bright idea. I just wanted you to be safe, to get treated right."

  "I know."

  "Nothing was supposed to change. That was the agreement, remember?"

  "Yes," I said. "But feelings don't just turn on and off, John."

  A grunt. The boy did that way too much.

  "Look, you're right. I should have talked to you about it instead of going into hiding."

  "Yeah, you should have. You're important to me too."

  "Thank you."

  "But this is still on you." Nice to know he had no interest in making this easy. He crossed his arms over his chest. "One way or another, you need to deal with this."

  "How?"

  "I don't know," he said. "Just . . . do whatever it is you need to do to forget about us having sex so we can go back to normal."

  I frowned, tongue playing behind my cheek. "Hold up. Are you suggesting hypnosis or that I sleep with someone else to get over you? I'm confused."

  The most pained sigh of all time. Truly, I felt bad for the boy. "I gotta go. I promised Anders and Hang I'd give them a lift home."

  I said nothing.

  "We okay?"

  "Yes. We're fine." My fibbing skills were off the charts. The CIA or Hollywood or someone would probably be calling for me any day now. "No problem. I promise no more avoiding."

  "Good. Maybe we could hang out tomorrow?"

  "Sure." I half lifted a hand in farewell. "'Night."

  John: What do you feel like doing?

  Me: Sick, sorry. A bit of a mess. Talk to you later.

  My cell started buzzing. "Hello?"

  "Thought we sorted this out," he said. "You avoiding me."

  "I'm not avoiding you."

  "Yes. You are," he said, voice sharp with tension.

  "No, I'm not." My jaw tightened. "I promised I wouldn't do that. I'm honestly just not feeling well, John. It happens sometimes."

  "Oh yeah?" he scoffed. "You were fine last night."

  "You're right. I was fine last night." The girl in the bathroom mirror scowled back at me, every bit as furious as I felt. "But then blood started gushing from my uterus this morning and now my insides feel like they've been twisted into knots. It's really not pretty."

  A long silence.

  "Yeah. The cramps hurt like a bitch, John. So as you might have guessed by now, I'm not in a very good mood," I said through gritted teeth. "Also, my breasts ache and I kind of want to kill something."

  "Um, okay."

  "Great, glad we could talk this through. 'Bye," I finished, stabbing at the end call button.

  Give me strength. I could have hit something, preferably him. Instead, I'd take two Advil, go back to bed, and feel sorry for myself. In that exact order. It would have been nice to hang out with John and further clear any lingering weirdness. But curling up in fetal position took precedence right now.

  A couple of hours later, Mom came wandering in with a curious look on her face and a big white paper shopping bag in hand. "I'm concerned. Any chance you have a creepy yet practical, wealthy secret admirer or stalker you want to tell me about?"

  "What?" I sat up, setting aside my book.

  "I just found this sitting on the doorstep," she said, handing the bag over. "Tampons, Midol, and a box of chocolate cupcakes. Unoriginal but quite apt."

  I burst out laughing.

  She cocked her head. "Please explain."

  "I scared a boy with my menstrual rage," I said, going through the contents of the bag. "Though to be fair, he kind of deserved it."

  "Huh." Her brows remained knitted, her gaze perplexed. "Is he going to be leaving things on the doorstep often? Should I set up a motion sensor camera so I can ge
t a look at him?"

  "He's just a friend, Mom."

  "Yeah, right." She gave me a look. The look. "Those cupcakes are from the fancy-pants bakery. Not cheap, kid."

  "Yum." I opened up the box, salivating. "And they're all for me."

  "I taught you to share--I know I did." She smiled. "So, what's his name?"

  "Just a friend."

  "Unusual name."

  "Isn't it?" I passed her a cupcake. "Here."

  "Oh, I shouldn't," she said, reaching out a hand. "Just a taste, maybe. You're not going to tell me about him, huh?"

  "There's nothing to say. We're just fr--"

  "Friends. Yes, I get it." She took a bite, an expression of bliss crossing her face. "Well, I love him, whoever he is. He already has my approval. These are divine."

  Biting into my cupcake, I smiled. Then, once Mom had gone, I picked up my cell and hit his number.

  "Hi," I said.

  "Hey. You got the stuff?"

  "Yes, I did. Thank you."

  "No problem." A huff of breath. "Sorry 'bout earlier."

  "You had a right to be dubious." I sighed. "We're always saying sorry to each other. What's with that?"

  A laugh. "I don't know."

  "My therapist would probably say we're interesting personality types working through our issues within the bounds of our relationships."

  "Christ," he mumbled.

  "Hmm." I took another bite, chewing with delight. "These cupcakes are amazing."

  "Good. I gave Ruby a call and she clued me into what you'd want."

  "The waitress from the roadhouse?"

  "Yeah."

  "She knows her stuff," I said, licking some chocolate frosting off my fingers. "And don't worry, I'll get over my weirdness. Chocolate has all sorts of magical healing properties."

  "Okay. Good."

  Neither of us said anything for a minute. Yep, it was a very comfortable long, drawn-out silence. Not awkward at all.

  "Anyway, I'd better go," I said eventually. "Mom wanted to--"

  "Right. Yeah. See you at school, Edie." And he was gone.

  Unknown: SOS!!

  Me: Who is this?

  Unknown: Me, dummy.

  Me: ?

  Unknown: Anders!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  Me: What do you want and how did you get my number?

  Anders: JC gave it to me. His car's died. Come get us we need a lift to school.

  Me: Be there soon.

  Anders: For him you do stuff. WHAT ABOUT ME?

  By daylight, the two-story home looked even more in need of work, despite the perfection of the garden. Flaking paint and climbing vines hid the potential glory of the place. Guess his uncle was too busy running a business to do much work on the house. It wasn't a bad neighborhood or anything. Most of the other homes were well maintained, immaculate even. Only John's place seemed at odds, in need of a little love.