Page 31 of Run to Me

I flip over and pin my glare on Graham, who winks and smiles devilishly. “Nothing. Graham’s being a crunt.”

“Can we not make that a word?” she asks, crinkling her nose.

Moving on to a different topic, I eye her tank top and panties. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

We have a couple of hours until her show, but I’ll do anything to keep the attention off me. The last thing I want right now is to delve into what went down at Vera’s house.

“Why were you crying?” she counters. Dammit.

I sit up and shrug, pretending the encounter with Vera doesn’t bother me too much. “Vera pissed me off. Turns out, I’m an angry crier. Who would’ve thought?”

Tatum narrows her gaze at me, not buying the lie or my blasé attitude. But she knows me well enough to sense when I won’t budge if she pressures me to talk about certain subjects.

She sighs in resignation. “Help me find something to wear.”

Graham and I squeeze into the tiny closet with her. Every sweater she owns hangs from the rods, testing their weight-bearing capacity. It’s a mess of colors, patterns, and materials even I can’t wrap my mind around, and I’m someone who loves bright and bold aesthetics.

While examining the disaster, Graham bobs his head like he’s preparing himself for the challenge of picking out a shirt. “Margarita time?” he asks me.

“Yep.”

The sound of her whining follows us to the kitchen where Pam’s cooking. Graham gets to work mixing strawberry margaritas, and I dive into the appetizers.

“Want to fill me in?” he asks in a soft voice so Pam won’t overhear. She’s busy swapping out the cookie sheets in the oven.

“Nope.” I reach over and push the button on the blender to stop him from asking more questions.

We stare at each other until he puts an end to the whirring noise and says, “Just so you know, friends often ask friends for advice. That’s how friendship works.”

He pours the drink mixture into a huge plastic cup, filling it to the brim. We’re staying the night at Pam’s after the show, assuming Tatum will sleep at Jake’s and her bed will be free, so neither of us has to drive. Although, we do have to leave early in the morning, so I’ll keep my partying at a minimum.

“Friends also know when to back off.” Stealing his drink, I toss a cheese-filled jalapeño in my mouth and sit at the kitchen table, ready to put the entire day behind me and enjoy Tatum’s first hometown show in over a decade.

Graham joins me at the table, setting down his smaller cup with a straw poking out of it. He leans over and taps a finger on the end of my nose.

“You don’t have to do life alone,” he whispers. Then he licks my cheek and, laughing, scoots his chair away before I can smack him in retaliation. Lovable jerk.

He’s right. I know he is. But I won’t be the annoying, needy friend who makes everything about herself. If I hang my burdens around other people’s necks, they’ll grow tired of me, and I’ll end up alone anyway. Yes, my outlook on relationships derives from childhood insecurities, but facts are facts: unconditional love is a lie. So I move about in the background and make myself useful to keep my place in our group. I can handle my problems just fine on my own.

“Tequila shots?” I ask, hoping he’ll join me in forgetting the day.

He gives me a pointed look and a reminder of our conversation after karaoke night. “You made me promise to keep you dry.”

I smirk and raise my cup in the air. “Make no mistake, my friend. Around you, I’m dry as a desert.”

Grinning, he bumps his cup against mine. And just like that, my troubles with Vera and Jensen disappear.

11

JENSEN

“Earth to Jensen.” Javi reaches across the bar and snaps his fingers in my face. Leaning on my elbows, phone in hand, I slide my gaze from the screen to his amused expression. “You spend a lot of time on your phone. Anything exciting you’d like to share with the class?”

“I’m the class,” Trevor states dryly, raising one hand while typing on his laptop with the other.

“Doing some research,” I lie.

Javi chuckles and shakes his head. “You and your research lists.”