Next-Door Nemesis(57)
I bite my tongue so hard that I nearly draw blood. The urge to tell them both, in extreme detail, what went down last night is almost too much for me to handle. The only thing stopping me is the barrage of questions I know they’ll both have and I don’t have the answers to. Unless their only question is, How good is he in bed? Not only can I answer that, but I can write poems about it.
“Oh, trust me,” Ashleigh says. “He’s not only held up but he’s gotten better with time. He has this nerdy, uptight thing going on, but it really works for him. Like, I just know that beneath it all, he’s a total freak in the bedroom.”
Other than a brief stint in middle school of feeling rejected and othered, I’ve always loved being biracial. I got the best of both worlds. Before I realized I’m not a dancer, I took both Irish step and African dance classes. We ate classic southern dishes my granny taught my dad to make and my mom makes cabbage and corned beef every Saint Patrick’s Day. I’m the result of a love that crossed boundaries and continues to show what a world where differences are acknowledged and respected could look like. There are countless things to love, but at this moment, I’ve never been more grateful for the melanin masking the deep flush burning my cheeks.
All I have to do is roll my eyes and laugh and they’ll never catch on.
“Okay! Well, you two enjoy that discussion without me,” I shout out instead. “?’Cause Nate. Gross. No, thank you.”
I may as well have held a giant, neon-lit sign that says she fucked nate over my head.
Ashleigh and Ruby both turn to me wearing matching expressions of curiosity and suspicion. When Ruby’s posture shifts and her eyes narrow, self-preservation kicks in.
“Gotta get dressed!” I wave my clothes in front of them before speed walking out of my room and into the bathroom.
It’s a temporary solution. I’ve been friends with Ruby for long enough to know I can’t dodge her line of questioning for long, and even though my friendship with Ashleigh is on the newer side, she doesn’t strike me as somebody who lets things slide. Especially juicy things like her friend sleeping with her noted mortal enemy.
Yup.
I thought I was screwed last night, but my life never fails to humble me by showing me just how fucked I can truly be.
Chapter 19
I revel in being basic.
Pumpkin spice latte? Yes, please. Uggs? I want every color. Top 40 pop songs? I have the lyrics imprinted in my brain. But my most basic quality of all is my love for holidays.
Every single one of them.
Obviously, I have my favorites. Christmas gets top marks from me. I love decorating the tree, listening to music, and I spend a solid weekend every December doing nothing but baking cookies. Plus, gift giving is my love language and I thrive searching for the perfect gifts for my friends and family. Thanksgiving is fantastic because who doesn’t appreciate a holiday that’s dedicated to eating until you feel like you might explode? And don’t get me started on Halloween. Happiness is seeing small children and dogs shoved into costumes. I even like Valentine’s Day.
When I was a kid, you couldn’t tell me that the Fourth of July wasn’t the pinnacle of summer. I mean, barbecue, fireworks, and swimming all in one day? What wasn’t to love? But as time has gone on, this holiday has slipped down the list. Don’t get me wrong, I still love an excuse to stuff my face with grilled goodness, but I’d be lying if I said the holiday hasn’t gotten a little . . . weird over the years. I can’t help but notice the coded language that goes into celebrating this holiday for “real Americans” and who they think that includes.
“Wow,” Ruby mutters as she takes in the sea of red, white, and blue. “I forgot how patriotic middle America is.”
“Isn’t it so fun?” Ashleigh jumps up and down and the stars on her pom-pom headband bobble back and forth. Her stars-and-stripes leggings blend in perfectly with the scenery.
“It’s . . .” I can tell Ruby is trying not to hurt Ashleigh’s feelings and I’m so grateful. Ashleigh spent thirty minutes nailing the blue cat-eye eyeliner look; it would be devastating if Ruby said something that messed that up. “It’s really something. You can tell they put a lot of effort into the decorations.”
And by decorations, she means a plethora of American flags. Some small, some huge, some painted on. There’s a flag for everyone. It’s quite a sight to behold.
“Ughhhh,” I groan. A pang of grief makes my heart ache. “I wish they could’ve seen Ben before Nate murdered him. He would’ve been a hit.”
The strong showing of patriotism may be a bit alarming, but it’s also the proof I need that my instincts for my campaign were right on the money.
“This is all a little too much for me.” Ruby stops in her steps. “I think I’m going to go hang with Mr. and Mrs. Carter and save a good seat on the parade route. You two go on without me.”
“Are you sure? My husband’s around here somewhere.” Ashleigh doesn’t hide her disappointment that Ruby doesn’t want to hang out with us. “He has a group for his new dental practice and I’m sure there’s room for you to join us.”
“You’re so sweet and I love that you’re excited to support your husband by being a part of the parade.” Ruby rests a hand on Ashleigh’s shoulder before laying down the gauntlet. “But I need you to know that I’d rather die a slow, painful death than be stuck walking up and down these streets in this weather. Or any weather actually.”