“So now you’re asking me to pick up your crispy panties?” I snorted.
“You can use a baggie. It won’t kill you.”
“It might, it just might.” I remembered how the sight of them turned my stomach.
“Please? I wouldn’t bother if they were cheap, but those are real silk. I got them in Paris on my senior trip.”
“Fine.” I hated the word as soon as it was out of my mouth.
“You’re the best.” She sighed. “Don’t think I wasn’t tempted to come over and get them myself.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“Because I told Kieran I was different, and I am.”
“I’ve got to go. My bathwater is getting cold.”
“You’re still not coming over later?” she prodded.
“No.”
“I guess I’ll have to go to The Rooster by myself tonight.”
“Why are you going back?” A sinking feeling in my gut told me I’d be going too.
“Because I want to prove to him that I can handle his job. That I won’t freak out on any girl who tries to put her hand in his jock. You should come too, I mean, if you and Brant are dating.”
“We’re not.”
“What are you doing? Just fucking?”
It sounded bad the way she said it—dripping with derision. I wouldn’t call it “just fucking”. There was more to it than that and I suddenly felt protective of what Brant and I had. It wasn’t a relationship, per se, but it wasn’t some sordid thing either. And I didn’t want to share the details of that with her.
“I don’t know, but I’m not going to show up at The Rooster and crawl up his ass.” That would set a bad precedent anyway. He had a paper to write, we’d agreed to see each other next week, I didn’t want to spend every minute with him. Neither did I want to deal with my feelings for Kieran tonight.
Going to the club would just make me feel bad about myself and reiterate all the doubts in my head on some demon loop from hell that I couldn’t unhear. I had better things to do.
“I don’t think he’d see it that way.”
“Why isn’t Hollie going with you?” I didn’t know why I tried to argue. I knew I was going.
“She’s got a thing with her sister. Come on, I don’t want to go by myself.”
“Why not? If this is all well and good, why not go by yourself?”
“Because I think I lied. I don’t know if I can handle it.”
Her confession did me in. I wanted to say no, I wanted to say that was her tough luck and to deal with it, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. “Fine.” I hated that word. “Pick me up at ten.”
“You’re the best, Claire. I love you.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ve got to go. See you later.” I hung up before she could respond.
Why in the name of all that was holy did I allow myself to get talked into these things?
6
I waited for Kieran to leave before I emerged from my room.
April’s panties were on the counter.
That was completely unsanitary and made me wonder what other things he’d been putting on the counter.
As well as wondering if he’d heard my conversation with her. Not that it mattered.
Okay, that was a lie. He’d have to have been standing outside the bathroom door to hear me and that mattered quite a bit, but I couldn’t think—i.e. obsess—about that now.
I decided to wear crop pants, flats and a cute bowling shirt. It had a ’57 cherry red Chevy on it and it made my boobs look amazing. Of course, I always thought they looked amazing. It was hard to go wrong with boobs.
The bell rang promptly at ten.
A sick feeling settled in my gut. This was such a bad idea. Bad. Bad. Bad.
I opened the door and April was dressed to kill. She was wearing a tiny leather miniskirt that I could have used for a garter, a filmy see-through club halter, and those designer heels with the red sole.
“Wow.”
“Do you think he’ll like it?”
“Who wouldn’t?”
“You look great, too. I love that shirt on you.” April smiled.
I knew she was trying to be nice, but I didn’t want her to be nice.
“Ready?” I didn’t invite her in.
“Um, are those my panties on your counter?” She pursed her lips.
“Yeah. Kieran left them there.”
“I see.” Her expression was unreadable. “Let me just grab them and save you the baggie.”
“Did you tell him you were coming tonight?”
“Of course. I told him and Brant you were coming too.”
“We’re not sitting by the stage. We’re not going to be those girls.”