Nothing is wrong. In fact, I’m now realizing everything that’s right, and it’s not at the A&W. I know what I want, and I know why it can’t be with Pike. I just need to find someone exactly like him.
I clutch the root beer float I bought for him as a gag as my sister winds through the streets and finally pulls up in front of Pike’s house.
I groan, my stomach still somersaulting. “Thank you.”
I climb out of the car, hooking my wallet on my wrist and closing the door.
“Is that April Lester’s car?” Cam asks through the open window.
I turn my head, seeing a red Mazda Miata convertible parked behind Pike’s truck, and my stomach sinks.
What the fuck? It’s late.
I dart my eyes to the house and see that it’s dark, no lights on anywhere. What would they be doing in there with no lights on?
A lump swells in my throat, and I feel like I’m going to throw up.
“She’s probably selling Girl Scout cookies,” Cam jokes.
But I’m seething. “It’s not cookie season.”
“Oh, honey, for some of us, it’s always cookie season.”
And I turn to my sister who makes a V with her fingers in front of her mouth and sticks her tongue between the two fingers, wiggling it.
I push off the door, mumbling, “Bite me.”
But she just laughs, kicking her car into gear. “Goooooood luuuuuuck.”
It takes two tries to swallow as I look up to the house. What is she doing here? What is she doing in there?
Yes, it’s his house, and to my knowledge he hasn’t hooked up with anyone since I came here weeks ago. He’s young, single—he has every right to bring women home.
But it doesn’t stop my heart from beating a mile a minute or my stomach from hurting. I’m here. Couldn’t he go to her house instead? Or to a motel?
I walk up the steps of the front porch, my heart pulsing in my ears, and turn the knob, but it’s locked. Pike almost always leaves the door unlocked for me. Even if I’m at work until two in the morning.
I try to keep the float stable in my left hand as I dig in my shorts for the key. Pulling it out, I unlock the door, dread weighing me down as I open it. If I walk in on them doing something, I’m not sure I won’t burst into tears or start screaming.
Please, don’t, Pike. Please don’t do this.
I step into the house, softly closing the door behind me and locking it. I look around the dark living room, and my ears perk at the silence, listening for anything that will confirm my worst fears.
Slowly trailing into the kitchen, I see my candy apple candle lit on the table, its soft glow brightening the darkness. I didn’t light it, though.
I clench my teeth. Was he going for ambience or something?
I look out the window over the sink and into the backyard, seeing the pool lit up but no one out there.
Walking back for the living room, I head toward the stairs, but then I hear muffled laughing, and I stop. Heading for the basement door, I gently twist the knob and quietly pull open the door, immediately hearing their clear voices.
“I want to hit the black one,” April whines.
“Black one is last,” Pike explains, his voice deeper and more playful than usual. “You put it in a pocket now, you lose the game.”
“What do I get if I win?”
“What do you want?”