There was a mess in the sink, and I knew exactly who had made it and left it for me to clean up after her. “Lindsey!” I bellowed.
Riley stuck her head in the room. “She’s out. Got a call from that Harden guy she’s been seeing. They went out for lunch or something. Not sure when or if she’s coming back today.”
I slammed the dirty cereal bowl into the dishwasher. “I am not her fucking maid.”
“Tell her that, babe.” She waved. “I’m off. See you tonight?”
“Maybe. I don’t really know. Cash said we were going to dinner, but he hasn’t responded to my text yet. So, who knows. Maybe it really was just a weekend thing.” And that, out of all the other shit I’d gone through over the last two days, was the one thing that had the potential to destroy me. I missed him, more than I ever thought it was possible to miss another human being, and it had only been a little over twenty-four hours since I’d last seen him.
“He seemed sincere when he dropped us off at the airport yesterday. The guy likes you, Mar. Like, a lot. Give him a few more hours. He’s probably just busy.” With another wave and a kiss blown in my direction, Riley was out the door.
I decided to take her advice, because he had seemed just as torn up about leaving me at the airport the day before as I was.
Loading the dishwasher, I finished tidying up the kitchen. Even though I swore I wasn’t going to clean up after Lindsey, she knew I couldn’t stand to have a messy kitchen. Any other room was just fine; it could get as dirty as my roommates wanted it to. But the kitchen was where I ate, and I couldn’t have it even the least little bit cluttered or dirty. The problem was, Lindsey was used to being catered to by the housekeeping staff that worked for her parents, so she knew next to nothing about washing dishes or cooking. That didn’t mean she couldn’t at least fucking try to keep the place looking inhabitable.
After eating, I took a long shower, hoping to wash away the bruises that were like neon blue and purple signs on my wrist. My entire arm ached, but I knew it was just some bruised muscles and tendons and not actually broken. Sadly, I knew what a broken wrist felt like. Malcolm had done that to me when I was fifteen because I’d mouthed off to him. I was in a cast for an entire summer because of it, but despite the doctor being adamant there was no way I could have fallen and broken my wrist like my mother kept telling him, there had been no social service calls. Just like there hadn’t been so much as a police report when I’d “fallen down some stairs” and cracked two ribs when I was twelve.
I shuddered at the memories and turned off the shower. Drying off, I pulled on a long T-shirt and a pair of panties and dropped onto my bed with my new phone in hand. My text was still unread, and I let myself pretend that didn’t sting. Cash
had no responsibilities toward me. I wasn’t his girlfriend or even a friend in general. I was just the girl he’d spent a weekend fucking.
I programmed as many of the contacts as I could remember into my phone. Having an eidetic memory came in handy at times like this. Once I had my dad’s and stepmother’s information programmed in along with my two brothers’, I shot them all a group text to let them know a little of what was going on.
My dad and his wife lived in Oklahoma. Jane, my stepmother, was a teacher there, and Dad was a roughneck for one of the biggest oil companies in the country. They weren’t rich, but they were comfortable enough. My younger brothers would most likely follow in Dad’s footsteps, but Jane and I both hoped they wouldn’t. After my parents’ brutally messy divorce, and Malcolm had nearly bankrupted Dad, he’d had no choice but to take the only job he could find out of state. The oil company that’d hired him was possibly the only company in the States that wasn’t scared of Malcolm McIntire, and I didn’t have to worry that, whatever happened with me, Dad would lose his job.
I only got to see Dad for Christmas and the rare trips during summer breaks. I would have loved living with them, would have done anything to have gotten the chance to stay with the only parent who had ever seemed to actually care about me. The custody battle for me had been long and messy. My ten-year-old self had been on the cover of international tabloids until Dad had no other choice but to relinquish his custodial rights to me.
It was lonely growing up all by myself in Malcolm’s mansion, so when he sent me away to boarding school, he was doing me more than one favor without even realizing it. Boarding school meant I didn’t have to tiptoe around the house and stay under his radar. I could be myself for once. It was also where I met Lindsey for the first time.
She was my roommate and became a close friend, but we both had learned at early ages not to completely trust anyone or to fully invest your emotions in them. My time in the boarding school only lasted one full school year before Malcolm got bored and brought me home so he could have his punching bag back. Not long after that, I met Riley, and we just clicked.
I stayed in touch with Lindsey, though, and when she decided on UCLA for college, it seemed like fate had pushed us back together again. The three of us moved in together freshman year, and we’d been besties ever since.
It was nearly dinnertime before Lindsey came home from her date. She knocked on my door and poked her head in to check on me. “Any luck finding a job?”
“Nope.”
“Figured as much.” She came into the room and sat on the edge of my bed, the skirt of her knee-length dress floating around her and settling perfectly. To look at Lindsey, you would think she was a snotty little goody-goody. Which was kind of true. But that was because of her parents and their strict rules. She didn’t step out of line often, and the only thing she had ever done behind their backs was the side job where she made fake IDs. “You having a pity party in here? Or do you want to go out and get buzzed later?”
“I would totally love to get buzzed,” I told her with a grin. My phone went off with an incoming text, and I picked it up off my extra pillow to see Cash had finally texted me back.
Sorry, Dreamer. Had a crapload of stuff to take care of today. Still on for dinner?
“Um, let’s raincheck the buzz,” I told her, feeling my lips lift in a stupid grin.
“Is this the infamous Cash you told me about last night?” She peeked down at my phone. “Dreamer? He calls you Dreamer?”
“Yeah, and it melts me every time,” I confessed.
“So you’re going to bail on me for a guy?” She rolled her eyes and stood, but she grinned down at me. “I get it. I would totally bail on you for Harden.”
“How’s that going? When do Riles and I get to meet this guy?”
She shrugged. “When I figure out if I like him enough or not. It’s still early days. We haven’t done more than kiss. But damn, he’s a good kisser. I might have sex with him soon.”
My eyes widened. “You’ve been seeing him for like three weeks now. Which one of you is holding out?”
“Both of us, actually. I love spending time with him, but for now, I’m taking my time and seeing if maybe this thing becomes more before I let myself get invested emotionally. And he’s patient with me. Which is really nice. I don’t have some guy hanging all over me, trying to get in my panties. He respects me.” She pushed her blond ringlets back from her face. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”