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“My mother,” I told him. I glanced at him over my shoulder, then stood, tugging my leggings up the rest of the way. I only had on my pants and sports bra at this point. The rest of my clothes were in a pile beside me on the unmade bed.
“That’s nice that you’re close,” he said, pulling on a pair of jeans, sliding up the zipper. Clothed, unclothed, half-clothed, Theo was gorgeous.
“We’re not.”
He stopped in the process of putting on a shirt he just pulled from a dresser. Waited.
“She wants money,” I explained. Cheryl’s behavior was no secret, especially from Bridge. And probably Mav now, too.
“For…”
“For whatever it is this time.” I had no idea what it could be now. Oh yeah, the car repair bill which I never paid.
“What was it last time?” he stuck his head through the hole of his shirt, pulling it down over his torso. A torso I’d licked not twenty minutes earlier.
His hair was a tousled mess. Because of my fingers.
“Rent. Electricity bill. Groceries, although this is probably another car repair.”
I stood and it was my turn to put my shirt on.
Before I pulled it on, I saw him eyeing my chest in my sports bra. Yeah, not remotely sexy.
“Is she okay? And your dad?”
“My dad is fine. I’m sure he’s in his recliner watching some game show right now with his beer and cigarettes. My mother is not okay,” I grumbled, tugging my shirt down. “I mean, relatively speaking. She doesn’t need a doctor or anything. She’s… well, Arlo calls her a moocher.”
“Arlo’s your brother?”
I nodded.
“Does she bother him for money?”
I snagged my sweatshirt and carried it into the other room. I found my shoes and socks by the front door.
“No. She’s his stepmom, so I’m the child to pester.”
“Do you want her to stop?”
I spun and looked at him, leaning against the bedroom doorway. He was earnest in his questions, but they reminded me of Arlo’s same ones.
“Yes. I want her to stop telling me I have to do it because it’s my fault her life is ruined.”
He frowned. “How did you ruin her life?”
“By being born,” I muttered, then dropped onto the edge of the sofa to put my shoes and socks on.
“Wait, wait. What?” He came over and squatted down before me when I didn’t answer, even forced my chin up with his fingers. “What do you mean?”
I sighed. “She reminds me all the time when she got pregnant with me, her chances of being a model were over.”
“You weren’t there when your parents had sex.”
I gave him a weird look, kinda like the one I made right before I threw up, because gross.
“It was her fault,” he added, but I didn’t like thinking about being afault.
My cell chimed again, and I rolled my eyes.
