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“Do you have anything I can wear?” I look at her with pleading eyes.
“I’m sure I do. Let’s look tomorrow and see what I’ve got for you.” She grabs my TV remote and turns it on. “Let’s watch a show,” she says.
I nod, stand up, and lay down on the bed as she turns an older show on, and I can’t help but think about all this stress. I think about the last time my dad texted me. He only texted to tell me about his so-called blood clot. I highly doubt he has one, as he always says things like that to make me feel bad for him for no real reason. He has manipulated my mom and me that way for years.
There are moments where I want to believe him because what if he is sick and I ignore it because of the lies or the way he treats me? But then I remember all the lies he has told me, and I find myself not caring if he is telling the truth.
I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
Eric
Good morning, beautiful. Just checking in with you. Call me if you need anything.
I smileas I read the text from Eric and then my phone is snatched from my hands like a fish on a hook.
“Damn it, Scarlett, give it back!” I demand. Scarlett reads the message out loud.
“Oh, honey, he is IN LOVE with you!” she laughs.
“I just met him, not possible!”
“It can be!” She hands me my phone back.
“No way.”
“Look, I’m just glad you’re giving this guy a shot. He seems really nice.”
“Yeah, he does, doesn’t he?” I blush.
She squeals and stands up. “Alright, let’s head out for breakfast and then go find you some clothes, mkay?”
“Okay, but no talking about boys.”
She grabs her purse and slips her shoes on. “That’s no fun.”
* * *
We arriveat our favorite food place, Oceanview Dinner, which sits right on the beach. It’s always busy and full of people no matter what time of day it is. As we walk in, I’m hit with the smell of eggs and bacon. The booths are dark brown leather, with wooden tables, and many people are seated already.
“Hi, just a party of two?” the waitress asks.
“Yes,” Scarlett says.
“Okay, follow me.” The waitress stops in front of a booth near the window with a clear view of the ocean and gestures for us to sit.
“What can I get you started with?” she asks.
“We’ll each take a Pepsi,” I say.
“Coming right up.” The waitress goes to the back, and we look at each other and laugh.
“I’m happy that we both like the same thing. It means I don’t have to order for myself most of the time,” Scarlett says.
“I’m your voice, it’s all good,” I joke.
We both grab the menu and look it over. Even though we know what we are ordering, we look anyway in case we decide to be spontaneous.
