Next-Door Nemesis(65)
Then I glare harder when they start to laugh.
“Okay, sure.” Ashleigh looks at Ruby with an expression that says can you believe this girl written across her face. “Way to prove us wrong.”
It’s not easy, but I resist the urge to stick my tongue out at them.
“Fine, whatever. So my grudge is a little childish. Who cares?” I stand up and start pacing. The grilled cheese I happily inhaled is starting to feel like a pile of rocks in my gut. “Obviously we’re into each other sexually, but I still think you saying he cares about me is a little loaded.”
I ignore the way his hand clung to mine when he was talking to Elizabeth and the way she tried to mask her heartbreak when she saw the two of us together. This is just supposed to be fun and wild, a way to fill my time while I’m stuck here. Nothing more.
Not even if it was the best sex of my life . . .
“This is why I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Ruby finally picks up her sandwich and takes another bite. “You’re still so stuck in the past that you can’t see this clearly. I have my theories about what went down between the two of you in school, but I really think you need answers before you two can have any kind of relationship outside of being HOA weirdos.”
“One, you’re rude.” It’s meant as an insult, but she glows like I complimented her. “Two, and I will only tell you both this if you promise not to freak out.” I pause and lift my pinkies in the air. They link theirs with mine and we perform the sacred ceremony that is the pinky swear. “Nate invited me over again tonight. I wasn’t going to go, but now I don’t know. Do you think I should go?”
When I went over to his house it was under the premise that it could be a one-and-done. But that was before I knew about the picture. Before Elizabeth showed up. Before I admitted to myself that there’s a possibility I might—deep down—be harboring some not totally negative feelings toward him.
“You’re going,” Ashleigh says without missing a beat.
“Yeah, duh.” Ruby rolls her big blue eyes. “I don’t even understand why you’d frame this as a question.”
I don’t know why I expected them to at least pretend to contemplate their answers. I wasn’t even planning on sharing this little tidbit of information. I really only told them because I’m starting to realize that being up front with them saves me a lot of time and energy in the long run. Plus, maybe they’re right and I do need answers.
It’s terrible, but the hard truth is that I do have a heart and feelings. And since I am nearing thirty, it might finally be time to start acknowledging my hurt instead of pretending it never happened.
Leave it to Ruby and Ashleigh to completely flip my life upside down.
“Fine,” I grumble and sit back down. “But if I’m going to go looking for answers, then I’m going to probably need another panini.”
Some people go for liquid courage, but I find courage in carbs and cheese.
To each their own.
Ashleigh fires up the panini maker and I pull out all the cheese from the fridge. The conversation moves away from me and we try to come up with ways for Ashleigh to unload her legging inventory. This might not have been how I expected my day to go, but I wouldn’t change a minute of it.
Somehow, nestled in this small Ohio suburb, I’m figuring out exactly what it means to be happy and feel loved.
Who would’ve thought?
Chapter 22
After paninis and an impromptu leggings fashion show—Ruby ended up buying four pairs, by the way—I head home with a full belly and an even fuller brain.
“Collins?” my mom shouts from somewhere in the house as soon as I walk in. “Is that you?”
I kick off my shoes and hang my purse on the hook next to the door. “Nope, it’s a burglar.”
With the way she refuses to ever lock the front door, I very well could be. I’ve sent her approximately a hundred true crime articles emphasizing the importance of locking your door and not making yourself an easy target, but she always laughs off my worries instead.
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” she says, and even though I can’t see her, I know she’s rolling her eyes. It’s not a mystery where I get some of my mannerisms from. “Come help me in the kitchen.”
I was already heading in that direction, and when I walk in, my heart squeezes at the familiar sight. Almost every cabinet and drawer in the kitchen is wide open. She’s standing in front of a counter covered with a plethora of ingredients I doubt she even needs. In a mystery I’ll never solve, flour is scattered all over her arms and throughout her hair, yet her apron is spotless. Dad’s sitting in his recliner in the living room and Jeopardy! is playing on the TV.
“Oh! I know this one!” My mom shouts like if she’s loud enough, the contestants can hear her. “What is Manarola, Italy?”
I haven’t watched the trivia show since I moved out. It’s a jarring sign of time passed to see the new host in Alex Trebek’s place. He confirms my mom’s random but extensive geography knowledge.
“Impressive!” I lift my hand in the air, forgetting about her flour-covered state until she slaps my hand and a puff of powder explodes around us.
“Thank you very much.” She points to the folded apron in the open drawer by the fridge. “But come on and help me out, will ya?”