Her anger is pushed aside for fret, the panic in my voice the sole cause of her worry. “Not everyone. They just heard him call your name.” Her eyes bounce between mine. They’re full of panic. “Why would it matter if anyone saw you with him?”
I swallow to soothe my burning throat before replying, “It wouldn’t. I just don’t want to get a name, that’s all.”
Sloane’s brow gets lost in her curly blonde hair. “A name for bedding one of the most eligible bachelors this side of the country?Girl, that’s a badge you should wear with honor.”
I agree with her, but not only do I like to argue, she has it all wrong. “We didn’t do anything.” I internally battle myself for nearly twenty seconds before blurting out, “I kind of ditched him on the sidewalk.”
“He came all the way here, and you didn’t invite him in?” When I nod, Sloane slaps me up the back of the head. “Demi!”
“I know,” I say with a groan. “I suck.”
I whack her in the arm when she gabbles out, “If you did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” After joining me lying on my bed, she peers up at the ceiling then asks, “You’ve had a crush on Maddox since the fifth grade, so why did you bolt as soon as the fireworks started?”
She’s a little off with her dates, but since that’s more my fault than hers, I let it slide.
“It’s complicated,” I murmur, incapable of lying to my best friend.
She rolls onto her side before hooking an arm around my waist. “Too complicated to halve the burden with your best friend?”
My sigh is packed with so much disappointment, it rustles one of her springy curls. That’s rare. They’re so thick and dense that usually nothing unkinks them. “Unfortunately, yes.”
I’ve kept her off my family’s radar as much as I can. She’s never invited to family functions, the only place her contact details are stored are in my head, and even with her paying half the rent on our apartment, her name isn’t on the lease.
If my uncle can’t threaten me to do what he wants, he will shift his focus to those around me. Sloane is all I have. I can’t bear the thought of losing her.
The abovementioned exposes how foolish I was to invite Maddox to Petretti’s for brunch tomorrow. My uncle has been conducting business in Italy the past two months, so I’m confident his flight won’t land until well after midday, and Petretti’s is the only establishment he owns that doesn’t have surveillance cameras, but still, I’m taking risks that could end fatally.
I want to be happy. I just refuse for it to be siphoned from those I love.
The feeling that I’m drowning on land evades me when Sloane gabbers out, “Five minutes.” When I peer at her, stunned by the sudden flip in our conversation, she winks, then rolls off my bed. “Five minutes of wallowing, then you’ll need to pop your headphones on. The sun is rising, and I’ve only orgasmed three times. It’s time to add some bass to the tingles in my pussy.”
While doing the worst Beyoncé booty shake I’ve ever seen, she shimmies out the door, closing it behind her. Although I’m in desperate need of a shower, I roll onto my side, hug my pillow, then shut my eyes, where I spend the next four hours pretending I can have both my crush and a life without misery.
6
Maddox
Iwake up startled when the buzz of my cell phone vibrates across the coffee table of my friend’s crash pad. He’s out of town, and I promised to water his plants. I wasn’t meant to fall asleep. When I’m dog tired, I usually pass out for a solid eight hours. Since I didn’t have eight hours to burn between ‘dates’ with Demi, I putDiehardon Netflix, pumped up the volume, then guzzled down three cans of energy drinks like they don’t have the ability to kill me.
That should have kept me awake until next Thanksgiving.
As luck would have it, my brain is far more brilliant than me. I not only got four hours of sleep, but I also dreamed about Demi the entire time.
It’s been an awesome twenty-plus hours.
While scrubbing a hand over my eyes, I use the other to snatch up my cell phone from the coffee table. I’m not shocked when I unearth the identity of my caller. Justine snoops into her brothers’ lives as much as we interfere in hers.
Justine:Caidyn said you didn’t come home last night. Is there something you need to share?
As I pace toward the shower, I type out a reply.
Me:Depends? How high do dirty dishes rate on your naughty scale?
I add a heap of horned devil emojis to my message.
Her reply arrives at the same time I reach the bathroom.
Justine:Aww… you washed dishes for her. Mom will be so proud!
