“It’s a life skill,” she’d always say.
I palm my drink. “It was a one-time thing. It’s not going to happen again.”
I can’t lie to her anyway. She knows all my ‘tells.’ She knows when my eyebrows twitch or my nose crinkles or I’m looking to the left too much.
“You’ve only lived with him for what, a week or two?”
“I know. I know,” I say.
“Don’t you think that’s going to make things weird? You still have, like, six months together, right?”
“Yes,” I say. “Everything you’re saying out loud are all the things I’ve already thought. No need to lecture.”
“I’m not lecturing,” she says. “This isn’t like you. I’m intrigued, I guess. How does something like that happen? You hate casual sex.”
I shake my head. “We were fighting over a remote and one thing led to another.”
Her head cocks. “You were fighting over a remote and then you had sex? Just like that?”
“I know how it sounds.” I scan the coffee shop, desperate for a distraction or a familiar face I can scamper off and say ‘hi’ to, anything. “Anyway, so how’s Isaiah?”
My transition is bumpy at best, but I don’t care. I have to change the subject. I don’t want to talk about the thing that’s been on my mind since the moment it happened. I’m still trying to figure out what the hell it means and what it’s going to mean going forward, and I can’t do that with my cousin hurling a million questions at me a minute.
She pulls in a breath and lets it go. “He deploys again in a few weeks, so we’re trying to spend as much time together as possible.”
“How is that different from any other time?” I ask, wrapping my palms around my coffee, grateful for the new topic. “You two are inseparable.”
Her lips wear a dopey, teenager-in-love grin. “Yeah. I guess we kind of are.”
Everything about Maritza glows, like it has from the moment that boy showed up in her life. I’ve never met two people so different yet so right for each other. Honestly, they bring out the best in each other and I couldn’t be happier for the two of them.
“How’s school going?” I ask.
“Same. Oh! Did Gram tell you? I finally quit Brentwood Pancake and Coffee,” she says. “End of an era. Miss my coworkers, but I don’t miss having to argue with every single customer who thinks they need more than one pancake and that the posted rules don’t apply to them.”
“I never did understand that,” I say.
We finish our coffee, gossiping about Gram and her new guy “friend” who happens to send her flowers every Friday and make her giggle like a schoolgirl. Ever since the two of us moved out of the guesthouse, he seems to be coming around more. Or at least that’s what Maritza heard from one of Gram’s neighbors.
Checking my watch a while later, I exhale. “I should get going. Need to let Murphy out and get ready for that audition.”
Maritza rises from her seat, pouting as she spreads her arms and comes closer. My head tucks right beneath hers when I go in for a hug, reminding me that I’ll forever be jealous of her height. It isn’t fair that God gave it to someone who has no use for it.
Heading back to the house, I squint over my dash when I spot Sutter’s truck parked in the driveway, which is odd because he’s never home in the middle of the day.
When I get inside, I find him sprawled out on the sofa, watching some basketball highlights on ESPN while simultaneously scrolling through his phone.
“What are you doing home?” I ask, hanging my bag on the back of a chair.
“We’re just waiting for inspections. Can’t do anything until the city approves the work we’ve done,” he says, eyes glued to the screen.
I have a few minutes, so I take a seat across from him. “So you’re just going to hang out here all day?”
“Yep.” He stretches his arms behind his head.
“I have an audition in a little bit,” I say. I’m sure my small talk annoys him but I’m testing him, trying to figure out if he’s truly being short with me or if it’s my imagination, if he’s one of those guys who are well versed in pretending nothing happened after he screws you. “I’m going to let Murphy out then I’m going to go to that, so …”
I study him.
“O … kay,” he says, like he’s unsure of why I’m telling him this.
It’s not like I expect us to be best friends because we slept together, but would it kill him to be cordial?
Clearing my throat, I angle my body toward him. “So … about last night.”
His eyes move to mine. “Oh. So we’re not going to pretend it didn’t happen?”
I cock my head, speechless.