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Without looking at him once—I’d melt in the morning sunlight—Leo leaves.
Rosa butters some toast. “Was it me, or was he acting weird?”
No, not weird. What are you talking about? Completely normal.
That’s what Ialmostsay, but that would give the game away way early. God, I hate that there’s even agame.
“I don’t know,” I say.
Ilie. It’s already started, lying to my best friend, and I can’t even tell myself I’m just paying her back. What I did—what I want to do—is way worse.
* * *
“I got you a gift,” Rosa says after breakfast. “Before you ask, I bought itbeforeyesterday. It’s not a guilt buy.”
Together, we go to her bedroom. Posters of famous writers and poets cover the walls. Virginia Woolf takes pride in the place above her cluttered desk.
Rosa opens the desk drawer and takes out an envelope. When I see my name written with such care, with a small heart lovingly colored next to it, I almost tear up. I almost confess everything. Maybe it would be easier to believe it was a dream.
“Open it,” Rosa says excitedly.
It’s a voucher for an online course, Intro to Accounting.
“That’s the website you looked at before, wasn’t it?” Rosa asks doubtfully when I stare at it. “The one you mentioned on Skype?”
“Yes,” I say or try to.
It comes out as a garble half-word. I almost break down again. I push it away and force a smile on my face. She doesn’t deserve this moment ruined because of what I did, or maybe that’s just a sick excuse.
“It’s amazing,” I tell her. “Thank you so much.”
“It will give you something to do,” she murmurs. “You know, while we wait…”
“For the war to be over,” I laugh shakily. “I feel ridiculous saying that.”
“I’ve wanted it to be a dream since it started.”
There it is again—dream, just like last night. I almost want to smooth my hand over my ass to ensure it’s still stinging from his spanking.
“Whendidit start?”
“Right around when you left or the month after. That’s why I was acting so sus. I’ve had to have escorts to and from college. Otherwise, I hardly ever leave the house. If I was ever clingy, I think that’s why.”
“Hey, you can never be too clingy with your best friend.”
“Still, I am sorry. If there was a way to tell you—”
“Seriously, don’t worry about it.”
This is killing me. Rosa’s face has so much genuine concern as if she hates herself for possibly risking our friendship. It’s like she’s going to start screaming at herself for it while I keep having to shift position because my ass is stinging.
The tingling sensations feelgood. They should feel anything but that. I hunger for it again, his hand spanking down, the glint in his blue eye, a fierce wolfish sparkle, and his brown eye staring obsessively.
We’re eating, so luckily, I don’t have to talk for a bit. I try to tell myself this is like when I was a teenager and felt the first tickling of a crush. I could push it down and not think about it and, therefore, not let it grow. I’d cut off my emotions and my hunger.
“What are your plans for the day?” I ask after way too much time has passed.
Maybe that’s more paranoia. It’s not like she’s counting the seconds between each flash of conversation. I hate all these new elements I’ve added to our friendship, concerns we’ve never had before. Notme, him. He was the one who started it. Crap, she just answered me. I’m not focusing.
