No one has ever said something I’ve done is beautiful.
Ever.
I run a hand through my hair and smirk. “You want to see the bedroom?” I wait for her to reply.
She puckers her lips and nods her head. “I’d like to see it all. I love older houses. They have so much character.” She says it with such enthusiasm.
Rylee wipes her hands on her dress and follows behind me when I turn and head to the stairs. I take the steps slowly, the sound of her heels the only indicator she is behind me as we make our way to the top floor. Opening the bedroom where I sleep, I step to the side so she can enter.
“It smells like you,” she says as she steps into my domain. She turns her head back to me over her shoulder and smiles, then spins back. “You seem to like the color brown,” she comments, observing my dark stained floors, coupled with a bed I made from scratch last week that is covered with just a plain white sheet. It’s the only thing in the room. I haven’t had money to waste on bedding, and I don’t need much. When I sold my grandmother’s bed, I made some money and bought a mattress.
Behind the bed is a wooden feature wall, which I created. She walks over and runs her hand along it.
“I’ve never seen anything like this before. Even the bed matches.” She turns to me. “Did you build all of this?”
“Yes.”
“Wow! That’s some talent there, Auggie.”
I scrunch my nose up at the name she has used.
“My name is August.”
“Oh, I know, but I prefer Auggie, it sounds…” she looks up, a mischievous grin playing on her lips, “… cute.”
I shake my head. Cute. That’s not a word to describe me.
We both go quiet as we stare at each other. She runs her hand up her arm, a gesture that she’s cold before she speaks again.
“I should get going. I have to work tomorrow.”
“You should,” I reply. She nods and goes to walk past me, but I don’t move. Half of my body blocks the doorway. Rylee sucks in a breath when our bodies touch, and I reach up out of instinct to touch her, the same arm she ran her fingers down earlier, so I do the same.
“I should…” She doesn’t finish her sentence as I move my fingers back up her arm and the crease of her elbow. Goosebumps prickle on her skin as my fingers ever so slightly touch her stomach.
“You should,” I say back to her.
She leans into me slightly, and I open my mouth as she does. I know what she wants. “I’ll be seeing you, rich girl,” I say, dropping my hand away from her and stepping back so she can leave. It takes her only a moment to realize what was about to happen before she treads down my stairs, and I hear the front door shut, followed by the start of her car.
“That was weird,” Paige says as she steps into my house the next day after school. She throws her bag on the floor, walks into the kitchen, and automatically starts baking. I bought her some essentials that she asked for, and the rest she brought over a few weeks ago.
“What?” I say as I’m washing my hands. She makes me help, but just with the small things.
“Don’t play dumb.” She gives me her teenager eye roll. I laugh and shake my head, passing her the mixer. A knock is heard on the front door and Paige is first to bounce off to open it. I grab the cupcake tray and place it on the counter for her.
She’s quiet. I can’t hear any voices.
The hairs on the back of my neck raise when I make my way to the front door.
Paige is standing there smiling at Josh.
Josh, the scum of the fucking earth.
“Paige, get back to cooking.” She turns back to me, her smile fading, but she does as I say. When she’s gone, I stalk over to him and step outside, shutting the door behind me.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask. He opens his mouth then his lips turn up.
It's fake, just like him. His silver grills sit on his bottom teeth, and he licks them.
“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” the bastard has the audacity to ask.
“Fuck off,” I seethe, leaning in. “And if you ever come back, I will fucking kill you.”
“Now, now, now, August boy.” He’s always called me that. He’s only ten years older than me, but he acts like I’m some stupid fucking teenager.
Wrong.
I worked for Josh on the streets, selling, breaking into places for him. He paid me well, until the last job that sent me away for good.
It was a job that was meant to be easy.