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ChapterTwo
Gideon
The neighborhood doesn’t look toobad. I’ve certainly lived in worse. The garage is gated, but I’ll be parking my car in the street since I’m not a tenant. At least you’re supposed to have a key card to get into the building. Some of the sketchy places I’ve lived in make this one look like a fortress. That is, until you find a pizza guy or mailman going inside, and you just follow him in.
Chloe’s friend, on the other hand, might drive me crazy before I get out of here. Day one, the chances are at least ninety percent, so if I’m stuck here too long, it doesn’t look good for me. Skylar Stafford is so much like my sister, it’s scary. But I grew up in the same house with Chloe, so I get her. Chloe was my voice when I was younger, before I got comfortable talking to other people. I still don’t talk that much. I don’t need to know every thought someone else has, so I don’t think they want to hear mine.
Skye’s cute—that messy twist of hair at the back of her head is sexy as hell. But she talks too much, and I’m not here to meet someone anyway. Depending on how this job thing goes, maybe I’ll find my own place and then I can think about hookups or otherwise. Definitely not in the cards with my sister’s best friend.
When I come back upstairs with my first load of stuff, Skye has the door propped open for me with a metal garbage can. At the kitchen counter, she barely looks up when I wheel my battered suitcase through the door. When she does, she doesn’t meet my eyes, but looks instead at the crappy backpack hanging off my right shoulder. I’m not superstitious; I don’t keep reminders or good luck charms. I’m just low-key and low maintenance, and I don’t need new things all the time.
Unlike Chloe. And probably unlike Skye, I decide as I roll my suitcase past the bar and notice her iPhone screen down.
The backpack slides down my arm when I lean to the right. I leave it and the suitcase at the side of the bed, eye the blue comforter again—I hate the color blue, always have—and then go back out for more. This time Skye lifts her chin and studies me as I pass by her again. She props her book open with one hand. The other is holding a carrot stick. That probably means she eats like a bird, so I guess my next stop is a grocery store. While I don’t mind healthy food, I tend to snack on junk food late into the nights when I’m working.
“D’you need help?”
I stop at the door to glance at her over my shoulder. She’s just shoved the rest of the carrot stick in her mouth, so she spoke with a mouthful.
“I’ve got it. Thanks.”
Skye used to be at our house all the time when we were kids, but I was never around her. I was a weird kid, preferred to hide out in my room—according to my family. People do think I’m weird. In fact, my parents had me tested when I was younger, to see if I had developmental issues or if I was on the Autism spectrum. No, and no. I’m quiet, and I prefer music to people. Simple.
Chloe and I fought like most siblings, but we were close, too. She hung out in my room to study spelling words or do her math homework. We listened to music and played video games together. Sometimes she would drag me outside to shoot baskets. I pretended to hate it, but I didn’t. What I did hate was people telling me I was wasting my life indoors. That I was tall, and I had a beautiful jump shot, and I should be on the basketball team, not wasting my energy on a pipe dream like music.
“Hey.”
I nod and thank the woman who holds the door open for me when I approach with my keyboard in my hands.
“Are you moving in?” she asks me as we get on the elevator.
“Staying with someone for a few days,” I tell her. Wishful thinking. No matter how things work out here, the stay with Skye is going to be longer than a few days.
“What floor?” The woman nods at the buttons.
“Three.”
She’s attractive, very professional looking in her pencil skirt and black pumps. She probably doesn’t have orange splattered all over her apartment like Skye. Probably doesn’t have an ocean blue comforter on her spare bed either.
“I’m Anna,” she tells me.
Holding in a frustrated sigh, I tell myself at least she hasn’t reached up to pet my face.
“Gideon. I’m staying with Skylar Stafford.”
Anna gives me a knowing smile, and suddenly, I’m that tongue-tied awkward tween that Chloe always protected. This woman thinks I’m sleeping with Skye, and if she’s a gossip, the whole complex will believe that by tomorrow.
“Skye’s my neighbor,” Anna tells me. “She’s great.”
“Great.” My smile makes her think I’m agreeing with her, but my answer is ironic.
Skye’s still in the same place when I step into her apartment.
“Hey Skye,” Anna calls out as she follows me inside. “Look what I found downstairs.”
Skye, another carrot in her hand, jerks her gaze up from her book and narrows her eyes at me, like what her friend said is code for me coming onto her in the elevator.
“Where’s Jeff?” Skye asks Anna, obviously deciding not to bother speaking to me this time.
