Hurt, I take my hat and jam it back on my head so she can’t see my eyes. “Bother… what? What are you even talking about?”
She scoffs, rolling her eyes. With a dismissive gesture, she wipes her fingers up and down in the air, apparently signifying my body from head to toe.
“Don’t get me wrong, Chelsea,” she starts imperiously, “you’re cute as a button, right? But it’s not like they can have you, you know what I mean? It’s not like you could really make it happen.”
I cross my arms defensively over my bare belly, vividly aware of the abnormally hot water trickling out of my bikini bottoms and down between my thighs.
“What are you talking about? Make what happen?”
She picks up her phone and scowls at the face of it, jabbing it with her thumb. “Boys are just so dumb.”
“They’re not dumb, actually,” I sniff. “They’re are about to be millionaires, Yoyo. Off that app they designed themselves.”
“Yeah, but my point is that you can never get a piece of that, Chelsea,” she drawls. “Just like you can never get a piece of them.”
“Well, I don’t know…”
The words die on my tongue. Wasn’t she just trying to convince me I wanted them? How did she change her tune so fast?
“Ew!” she exclaims, recoiling dramatically. “Those are your brothers. That’s nasty.”
I stand there helplessly, trying to convince myself that she’s just jealous and disappointed that she threw herself at Jack in he didn’t bother to catch her. That’s probably all it is.
“They’re not really my brothers,” I remind her, but I don’t even know if she hears me. “Stepbrothers. I practically just met them, and you were the one who wanted to know if I thought they were hot, remember?”
She points at me, narrowing her eyes accusingly. “Yeah, but you were the one who admitted that they are!”
I open my mouth and then close it, because I don’t have anything to say. She’s got a point. But I have a point too! And it’s really hard to argue with her right now anyway, when my thighs are trembling and my pussy feels like it’s on fire.
She looks around, huffing and snarling, before finally calming down. “They totally are, but whatever,” she admits. “Anyway, I gotta get going.”
“Yeah, okay,” I mumble, gathering my accessories off the table and following her through the blindingly dark house. She offers me a little wave goodbye before getting into her Hyundai, and I stand there numbly in the dark house, feeling weirdly alone.
Chapter 2
Chelsea
Three years later
Customers keep streaming into the coffee shop right up until closing time, keeping me busier than I want. Janet called off again and I’m stuck doing everything by myself: barista, cashier, and all the cleaning. You would think since my boyfriend owns the place that I would be some kind of big shot, but apparently I’m the lowest rung on the ladder by a mile.
Somehow I manage to get a five-minute pause right before nine p.m. and I get excited that maybe I can just go ahead and lock the front door. As I am walking up to it, Denise bursts through, her eyes wide with panic.
“Am I too late?” she blurts out. “Are you all closed up?”
I force myself to smile through gritted teeth. “Of course not, Denise,” I smile encouragingly. “You just made it. What can I get for you?”
“Oh thank you!” She sighs heavily, rolling her eyes. “I just barely got Andrew out of daycare in time. Working late is such a hassle, you know? They think it makes you more productive, but it really doesn’t!”
“I can only imagine,” I smile as I position myself back behind the counter. “So are you grabbing something for the road? Or trying to get a jump on the morning?”
She leans forward, resting her palms on the counter as she squints at the menu over my head. Of course, the menu is always the same, but it is some kind of ritual with these folks. They like to look at it for as long as possible.
“Ummmmmmmmmmmm,” she says, mashing her lips from side to side.
She does look tired, I notice. I can hardly imagine what it is like to be a full-time executive and a full-time mother, trying to juggle childcare and all the responsibilities of keeping a house and career together. Like a lot of women, Denise doesn’t have a husband or boyfriend that I have ever been aware of. She just manages it somehow all by herself. She must be exhausted.
“Okay… How about the ginger banana smoothie for now? And a cold brew for the morning? Will that keep in my fridge?”