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Some part of me, the part that gave too much of myself to friendships, was still trying to make excuses for her. Maybe she needed the money. I had no doubts Adelaide could afford to pay well. Maybe she'd agreed to spy before she'd known me, and maybe she didn't share everything with Adelaide. Maybe she'd come to care for me. Maybe she felt bad about what she was doing.
When I wasn't making excuses I was still trying to deny what was becoming more apparent, more undeniable, with every exchange, but even I could only rely on denial for so long.
"Come on!" Farrah nudged me playfully as we sifted through dresses. "Who is he? Dish it!"
I sent her a weak smile and tried to lie convincingly, though I had no energy for it. "Me and Anton, but listen, it's nothing serious. We're just killing some time. It's not worth going on about."
I could tell that wasn't the answer she'd expected, and she gave me a strange, probing stare for it, but at least it got her to drop the subject.
We were done and driving home before she brought it up again. "Does Demi know you're hooking up with Anton?" she asked me, tone careful.
I thought it was a strange question, but I was preoccupied so I just said, "No. Like I said, it's not a big deal."
The irony was I'd been avoiding Anton lately. He'd always been an overprotective friend, and I knew he'd never understand that I was currently shacking up part-time with the enemy. I barely understood it myself.
When we arrived home, I went straight to my room and locked myself in. Since I'd found out there was a spy amongst my roommates, I'd come to hate the apartment.
I felt trapped there whenever I had to stay, because it was simply not a choice anymore. On top of that, I felt like I was being watched all the time, that everything I did would be noticed and reported to someone I'd despised my whole life.
All of that was bad enough, but add to it my pathetic heart, my incessant, weak longing for all the time I was missing with Dante (hadn't we missed enough?), and it was damn near torturous to put in time at the home I'd once found comfort in.
I'd pilfered several soft white shirts of Dante's to sleep in, and like a deranged addict I made sure that they smelled like him. I wanted reminders of him even when I slept. Needed them. Needed, when I woke up in a panic alone, to have some sort of proof that I wasn't still existing in that old hell where he was completely lost to me.
It used to be that when he was away I could talk myself out of him. We'd gotten way past that point. It was scary how attached I'd become in such a short time.
If I was honest with myself though, and sometimes I was, we'd never really been unattached, not even at the worst of it. I'd hacked at that attachment with a machete more times than I could count, but that didn't mean I'd severed it.
Far from it. Obviously.
I had just changed into one of my stalker Tees when the doorbell rang.
I went to get it myself. If it was someone for me, I preferred to beat Farrah to it. I'd become almost obsessive about keeping as much as I could private from her.
No such luck. She hit the entryway just a beat behind me, which was not good.
I opened the door to find a tired-looking Bastian.
He glanced behind me at Farrah, then back to me. "Have time for a cup of coffee?" He cleared his throat. "Down the street."
"I do," I said without hesitating. I didn't want Farrah to overhear one word of whatever he had to say.
I stomped into some Toms and left the house as is, baggy T-shirt, cutoff shorts and all.
"Mind if I join you?" Farrah asked behind me, sounding frankly curious. Nosy.
How had I not seen her for what she was before? It was so obvious to me the longer I knew the truth. She wasn't really even trying to fool me.
"Sorry, but we need a bit of privacy," Bastian replied because he didn't know who or what she was.
This is going to blow up in my face, I thought as we shut the door on her.
"She's a spy for Adelaide," I said quietly when we'd been walking for a few minutes. I glanced behind my shoulder, paranoid enough to check if she'd blatantly followed us.
"Your roommate?"
"Yes. It goes way back, apparently. Trust me, I was as shocked as you are, but Farrah doesn't know I'm onto her. I'm trying my hardest to keep it that way."
"Dante told you," he observed, tone neutral.
