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Of course Lance tackles me when I enter my condo. I pay the pet sitter handsomely, including quite a hefty tip, and then it’s just me and my dog … and the cool air of my silent, empty home.
Without Trevor, it’s infinitely heavy. And even with Lance on the foot of my bed an hour later when I lie down to sleep, I still feel the vacuum of having no one to wrap my arms around. It makes me ache, not having Trevor with me.
Until my phone buzzes with a text from him. I smile in the dark, my face lit up with the glowing from the phone screen, then type my reply. So much for getting any sleep tonight.
When the morning comes, however, I wish I had gotten some. There’s yet another text awaiting me on my phone, but this one is not from Trevor.
REBEKAH
Benjamin. You’re all over the news.
I sent you a link. Call me ASAP.
With my stomach sinking through the bed, I flip over to my email and find Rebekah’s at the top, sent seven times in a row. I open it to find an article with an image right at the top—a dark and blurry snapshot of two men cuddled on the beach.
It’s me and Trevor, with a tiny censor box over my ass crack.
39
Trevor is right back to reality.
“Elijah,” I try for the twentieth time through the door.
He isn’t talking to me. I still don’t know why. Maybe he got all lonely this weekend without me. Maybe his loving, adoring cat-monster Salamander chewed up the power cord to his Xbox.
“I got some new shiny shoes,” I announce, leaning against the door and picking at my fingers. I’m already ready to go; I’m just waiting on Elijah in the bathroom before we head off to the office together. “And … some other clothes, too. Birthday presents from my parents.”
I’ve become so skilled at lying. The gifts of clothing Benjamin got me have just become gifts from my parents with a few words.
Not that my parents would have bought me two pairs of sexy underwear and the skimpiest red trunks I’ve ever seen.
And worn.
“Elijah. What happened? Is it Ashlee?” I finally ask, figuring that if I don’t probe, I won’t get anything from him. The last time he acted like this back on campus, it was because a girl in his Poli-Sci class he was interested in turned out to have a boyfriend, and all the “flirting” Elijah thought was happening was, perhaps, not flirting at all. “Is Ashlee dating Brady now or something?”
The bathroom door flies open so fast, I would’ve fallen clean to the ground if I didn’t have such fast reflexes.
I stare at Elijah’s furious, scowling face. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” echoes Elijah darkly. “You have some balls, Trevor. I’ll give you that. You have some seriously nervy balls.”
Maybe I struck a nerve and took a step too far. “Sorry for suggesting it’s Ashlee. I’m just fishing. Last night, you were sleeping when I got back. Or maybe pretending to be, since your door was open and the TV was left on. This morning, you walked right past me when I was eating breakfast—we’re low on Lucky Charms, by the way—and then barricaded yourself in this bathroom. Not one word to me.”
“What one word would you like to hear?” asks Elijah. “Liar? That’s one word. Friend? That’s another.”
The first traces of genuine worry start to snake their way through me.
“How about ‘parents’? Or ‘birthday’? Or ‘You weren’t at your house all weekend, so where the fuck were you?’”
“That’s more than one word.”
“I KNOW! IT’S THIRTEEN!”
Okay, maybe now’s a bad time for humor diversion. Besides, he’s obviously on to me. “Listen, I didn’t want to—”
“No, no. You listen.” Elijah gets in my face so close, all I smell is his minty toothpaste. Spearmint, by the way. “I called up your mom because I wanted your opinion on … something. When she then explained that you weren’t visiting home for the weekend, but in fact were supposed to be having a party with your friends here—which I suspect was supposed to include me—I had to play the quickest game of cover-up I’ve ever played. I told her yeah, of course we were together, of course we were partying, and that she misheard me: I wanted her opinion, not yours. So there I am on the phone, spilling my heart out to your mom and getting the best damned advice I possibly could regarding me and Ashlee. No, I didn’t blow your cover to your family. I covered for your ass.”
“So this is about Ashlee!”
Elijah doesn’t appreciate my interjections one bit. “Now I’m just left with one burning question. What the fuck were you doing this weekend?”
I sigh. “Elijah, I know I lied to you. I know you’re pissed. And I know you’re using my toothpaste.”
