Chevelle
Anger sears from my chest,spreading through me like a wildfire. Trembling mad, I pin Erika with my gaze. She’s unblinking in response. A teeter of a laugh escapes my throat. Her words run through my mind on repeat, “My best friend, who snuck off and got married.”
“It’s the shoe,” Camdyn assures. The daze in his vibrant teal eyes fades fast as he sits upright in his chair. “Sis, Erika’s all talk. Can’t kill nobody with thatfeckin’shoe.” The slightly Scottish accent weaves into his speech.
“Better be the damn shoe.” I rise from my chair.
“Nae, I kinda shared how itwasn’tthe shoes!” Erika gets up, redirecting her stance to her opposite heel. “How ‘bout we have us a talk.”
“No, Erika,” Camdyn says, holding up his hand in my direction. “We’re too drunk to chat about—”
“You being in love with this mysterious man who snuck and got himself married,” I sneer.
“Aye, mybest friend.”
From the open partition into the house, I see Brody and Leith are walking through, shirts off. Both have muscles for days, but nobody’s here for abdominals that could cut the tension between Erika and me. The salted air has thickened. The ocean is rushing to the shore below.
“We’re playing two truths and a lie, guys.” I share, psychotic smile and all. I probably look like I’m asking them to enter a blossoming, golden field for a remake ofChildren of the Corn. “Join us.”
Yup. Sounds creepy too.
“We’re done,” Camdyn mutters.
“You guys have known Erika for years.” I clear my throat.
“All their lives,” Erika adds, stumbling around the table. She slides an arm around my shoulder. I two-step to a tune in my own head and away from her touch. Chuckling, she ends up placing her hand on her hip.
“Uh, yeah.” Brody winks. “Some of us know her a lot better than others—if ye know what I mean.”
“Whatever, Brody. You’re a player.” I fold my arms. “Which indicates that the two of you most likely haven’t bonded to the level of being best friends. The only woman you’ll ever love is Nan.”
“Och, Chevelle,ye done hating these bigbaws!” He grabs his junk.
Leith is across the room with an arm scooping around my waist in what seems to be less than half a stride. He yanks me to him. “What is my drunk wife talking about?”
“Not drunk enough.” I chuckle.
“Guys, join in the fun, eh?” Erika holds up the bottle that hardly contains a shot or two of whiskey.
“We’re not finished with this round yet,” I snarl, stopping myself from calling the woman out by her name. “We were saying Erika hasn’t used the shoe as a weapon. So, that’s the truth? The lie? Damn, how many truths are there supposed to be?”
“I don’t remember,” Camdyn gripes. “Sis, just drop it. Fuck her, okay.”
“Och, two truths,” Erika corrects. “Appearsye’ve forgotten to repeat the other choices. Chevelle, wereye using the lads as a lifeline to change yer answer? Like is she a lesbian? Is she in love with hermarriedbest—”
“Ye’re off yerfeckin’heid!”Leith points a finger at Erika.
“Nae. Just a wee bitpished—drunk.” Erika lifts her hands parallel to the ground, tips her face upward, and slowly touches the tip of her nose.
“Eh, c’mon, ye ‘wee bit drunk’ wench, let’s go.” Brody clicks his tongue. “Camdyn, ye want a ride home?”
The teen nods, ready to ghost us all.
“All of ya, get thefeckoutta my house,” Leith snarls.
“Och! He’s all worked up.” Erika runs a hand along Brody’s beard before slinking past his muscular frame.
“And lock thefeckin’door!” Leith calls out to them.