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He spins who he thinks is me.
I take a step toward them and then feel dumb about how split I am about telling him because he’s the only happiness I’ve had for the last year. What if he runs away because of my illness? It wouldn’t be the first time.
I stare down at my clothes.
He’ll notice immediately that it’s not me or that I’m not her.
I should just march right up to him and give up.
Maybe I’ll go jump in the ocean and take a deep breath.
How did the last twenty-four hours turn out this way?
I watch as Sophie grabs his hand, smiles, and walks off with them.
To go get ice cream.
Chapter Nine
Quinn
I didn’t expect her to be downtown or chase after me, but she did, which on one hand is kind of cool, on the other, totally unexpected, it seems completely against her character, but I’m not mad about it.
Again, gap year, taking in the sights, not worrying about everything and staying with my rich best friend despite the fact I have the money, just not the townhouse or the will to suddenly purchase one. What could really go wrong in this entire scenario?
Find a hot girl? Check.
Have a one-night stand? Check.
Get the best ice cream in the world? Um, double check.
Apparently near-death experiences make me super lucky, I turn and look at Chloe. “I’m really glad I met you. Plus, now I finally get the ice cream I promised last night but never delivered on.”
Her grin doesn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, you delivered on a lot of things.”
“Damn right I did.” I lick the cone and wink while she grabs her own cone and laughs, again I don’t know what it is, but I’m a laugh guy and her laugh sounds just mildly off, maybe she’s not as happy to be hanging out with me as I am her. Ambrose would say I’m bad at sex, and while I’m fully ready to admit when I’m bad at things, sex is not one of those things that I struggle with—kissing, foreplay, A+, now ask me to become an engineer and do calculus for four straight years and I might just flunk out of school, I may be smart but math is where I refuse to even embark on the struggle.
I took stats one year just because they offered it up as part of your math credit and all I remember was the absolute sadness when I messed up one tiny part of my project and after two hours had to go back and find out where I went wrong.
Chloe checks her phone and frowns down at it. “Yeah, um, I’m so sorry to cut you short, but I have to get running.” She stands up on her tiptoes and presses a vanilla ice cream fueled kiss to my mouth.
I start to respond to her cold lips when she bounces back, waves, and skips out of the ice cream store.
Frowning, I finish my ice cream then start the trek back to my waiting black Benz AMG Sedan, I’d parked it there in order to eventually get in the car with Chloe and impress her but yeah, nah. Now I’m kind of leaning toward the direction of her, just believing I’m a freeloader at my friend’s ginormous beach house.
People tend to freak out when you have money, and it’s like I did anything to deserve it. I just inherited it.
All of it.
All of my parents’ money.
And a huge, almost always empty house since they’re constantly gone and ever since my whole high school scandal with a teacher who’s now in prison—one my dad paid off—they’ve become even more distant.
Thus, why I jumped at the chance to be the third wheel on this little vacation. I know Ambrose and Mary-Belle are leaving at the end of the week anyway. And it would be a waste of my money to buy my own house or VRBO when I could just crash at his place.
I hop into my car and start driving toward the beach house, fully intending on not getting distracted by thoughts of Chloe and the even more complicated thoughts about my best friend and his girlfriend.
Damn, my life is messed up, isn’t it?
