Page 22 of Eyes on Me


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Which is ridiculous.

He’s probably just another pervy guy on the app who wants to see some tits and ass, and he’s willing to pay for it. There’s no way he cares about the real me, no matter how much he pretends to. None of them do.

I pick up my phone and check the time. Two thirty-five.

I toss and turn for a while, replaying the private chat with Drake. Moments from my day with Garrett keep slipping through as well. Something seems off with him. That call out of the blue yesterday and then him showing up and going on a walk with me. Is this really about my dad? Or has he just started being nice to me because he wants to. He hasn’t been as cruel or as mocking as he usually is.

And that whole talk about sex on our walk was way out of character. To Garrett, I am and have always been his annoying little sister. No amount of makeup or cleavage is ever going to change that. I’m dreaming if I let myself believe it could be any different.

Even if he was attracted to me, Garrett does not take relationships seriously enough to actually be in one long-term. He is destined to be a cocky bachelor for the rest of his life, and I don’t think that’s something he’d ever mourn.

When sleep eludes me for another thirty minutes, I give up and climb out of bed. The house is silent, but I like the silence sometimes. Life often feels so loud that I enjoy sitting in the stillness for a while. Alone with my thoughts, all of which are currently consumed by the sound of some sexy stranger’s voice, echoing on repeat in my head.

I pad silently down the stairs, but it’s dark and quiet. When I hear the laugh track of an old sitcom playing in the basement, I keep going down the steps. The TV is playing in the living room, and I see Garrett on the couch, his face illuminated by the glow of the television.

“Hey.” His voice carries faintly across the dim room.

He looks barely awake, with tousled hair and dark circles under his eyes. It’s strange to see him so grim looking. Garrett is usually bright and cheerful.

“Can’t sleep?” I ask, hovering by the staircase. I don’t want to come any closer without an invitation.

Then, to my surprise, he lifts his blanket, inviting me to come sit next to him. I hesitate, not quite sure how to react, since the Garrett I know would tell me to go to bed or ignore me.

“Not really,” he replies. I take his invitation and sit on the cushion next to him, so there’s a good foot of space between us. He lays the blanket over me so I’m wrapped in warmth.

“What are you watching?”

“Golden Girls,” he replies with a laugh. “It’s the only thing on at three in the morning.”

“I love this show.”

He lifts his arm and drapes it across the back of the couch. “Me too.”

We watch together for a while, laughing in unison at Blanche’s sex jokes and Dorothy’s one-liners. When the next commercial break comes on, I glance up at Garrett and notice a blankness in his expression I’ve never seen before.

“Everything okay?” I ask. I can’t quite explain what’s off about him, but it’s almost like there are so many thoughts swirling in there that he’s not really existing to the outside world.

And the last thing I would ever expect is for him to open up to me.

Which he doesn’t. “Yeah, I’m fine. You okay?”

He lifts his arm away from me, as if he’s worried that almost touching me is a problem.

“I’m fine,” I reply.

“So, what’s new with you?” he asks, making small talk. “Any new…ventures?”

I turn toward him. Garrett has always teased me about my failed attempts at life, and I remember how encouraging Drake was, how he said trying was better than regretting the missed opportunity later.

“Why would I tell you? So you can make fun of me for failing at something again?”

He looks affected, a shocked expression on his face as he turns toward me. “Why would I make fun of you?”

“Because that’s what you do. You know, it’s better to at least try at something than regret not trying later on,” I say, but I don’t miss the way he rolls his eyes and looks away.

“Wise words.”

“Well, it’s true.”

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