Page 43 of Fractured Heart

“Oh, is this your first time?” Angela asks. “Look, that’s totally cool. Just take off your clothes but leave your underwear on. Okay?”

First time? Take off your clothes? I take an instinctive step back and gesture between us. “I-I think you’ve got the wrong idea.”

Angela stares at me for a few seconds in confusion. “About what?”

“This. I’m not interested in you. And even if I was, I’m sort of seeing someone.” Or two someones, emphasis on the sort of. Plus, I’m also interested in their roommate, which I do not want to think about.

Angela’s eyes widen. “Wait…you think I’m hitting on you?”

“Aren’t you?”

“I’m from Stillwater.”

At my obvious lack of understanding, her eyes widen further and then she bursts out laughing.

“Who are you? And why are you here?” I demand, which only makes her laugh harder.

“That’s…never happened before.” She laughs harder.

I frown.

“I’m from the campus spa,” she adds through a fit of laughter. “For a massage.”

“But I didn’t order a massage.” I turn to her ironing board with new eyes. It does look like a massage table. It’s even got a hole where the face should go. How did I not notice that?

“Your boyfriend ordered the massage. He probably wanted it to be a surprise,” Angela says, only to burst out laughing again.

I open my mouth to tell her Tate’s not my boyfriend, but she doesn’t give me the chance. “I can’t believe you thought I wanted to sleep with you.”

“I didn’t,” I cry, my cheeks flaming.

“Yeah, you did.” Angela giggles.

“Okay, maybe a little,” I amend. “But you told me to take off my clothes. And you asked if it was my first time.”

My words echo through the huge living room. A second passes as I mull them over and then I can’t help it. I burst out laughing, too. It takes the two of us forever to calm down. By then, I’m bent over at the waist, hands on knees and my ribs ache. My face splits into a grin. I’ve missed having friends. My friends and I have hardly talked since they left for college. They’ve been too busy studying, partying, and becoming a part of campus life, while I’ve had an ever-increasing amount of chores courtesy of Father.

“We should probably get started.” Angela smiles. “I have another massage to get to at one, and your boyfriend paid for 75 minutes.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I shake my head.

“Friend with benefits?” Angela asks, eyes twinkling.

“No!” I snap, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“Sorry I asked,” Angela snaps right back and then her cheeks flush, too. “No, seriously, I’m sorry. We were laughing and I forgot I was at work and you’re a client.” She quickly looks away. “Why don’t I finish setting up, and you get ready?”

She straightens up her uniform, all business, and digs through her bag. First, she takes out a tray. Then she arranges an array of dark glass bottles on its surface. When she’s done, she lays a fresh sheet across the massage table. This time, when she smiles at me, it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. "Do you have a towel? If you don’t, I brought one. And I’ve got all kinds of massage oils I can use. How about coconut?”

When I don't respond, she grabs a bottle and flicks open its cap. She offers it for me to smell. I lean in and catch a whiff of deep, tropical air.

"Do you like it?” Angela asks hopefully. I nod. “Great. Let’s get started then?”

I shake my head like a mermaid trying to shake off water. A massage means taking off my sweater and I can’t let Angela see my bruises.

Her face falls. “I’m sorry I pried into your personal life. I really, really am. It was none of my business and it won’t happen again, Miss Hill.”

“Roonie,” I correct. “And it’s fine. You didn’t pry.”