Authors: Rachel Higginson
So I went for outright honesty, “My mom’s coming to visit this weekend and I don’t want her anywhere near you and this deal. She would kill me if she found out about it and worse she would tell my brothers.”
“Ah, I keep forgetting I’m your dirty little secret,” Fin laughed bitterly.
“Of course this is a secret!” Suddenly I was extra exasperated. Was he serious? Did he think I would advertise that I was a sucker who let an unstable addict live with me, steal my identity and then move out with all of my pride, possessions and dignity? “They can never find out about Tara. They would force me to move home with them and lock me up for the
rest of my life
.”
“Back to this?” he growled. “Ellie, just own up to it! I wouldn’t make any money if I let people just walk away without paying their debts. And fine, you’re different from everybody else, I’ll admit that, but I need this money more than I’ve ever needed any other debt. And this is a big debt! I need you to take this seriously.”
“You need
me
to take this seriously? Are you kidding me? I
am
taking this seriously! You are the one flirting with me! You’re the one kissing me!” I yelled at him. I couldn’t believe he had gotten me this worked up! I was a nice person, a calm, rational, pacifying person. And yet here I was yelling at Fin like a crazy person.
Not that I wasn’t justified.
It was mostly out of character.
“You’re making me crazy,” he winced and I felt like he stole the words from me.
I shot around to face him, ready to give him hell, but he looked so miserable, so pathetic I lost my steam. He was staring at his shoes, running his hands through his hair.
“I should go.” I couldn’t look at him when he was like that. He made me want to comfort him instead of punch him in the nuts and I should definitely prefer vindictiveness over compassion right now for my own sake.
He didn’t reply, just sighed as if defeated. Finally he nodded, but kept his attention on his shoes. I walked over and picked up my backpack and then marched for the door.
I yanked on the door handle, prepared to make a fantastic exit but his hand shot out over me, holding the door in place.
“I’m sorry, Ellie,” his voice was so sincere, so low that my heart stung with sympathy.
“Fin, it’s not important. Let’s just drop it,” I groaned. Leaning my hip against the door, I turned to face him. “We are never going to agree, so let’s stop trying.”
“Please listen to me, I don’t want to fight with you,” he promised. His brown eyes were the darkest I had seen them, pitch black and full of soul. His hair was mussed from his tugging on it and fell across his forward in messy angles. I wanted to brush my fingers through it. The desire was so strong I had to clasp my hands behind my back, gripping both elbows as tightly as I could.
“Alright, Fin,” I whispered. “I’ll listen.”
“I like you, I haven’t made that a secret,” he began and I the urge to run made my feet itch. I did not need to hear him say more. “But this money is very important to me. And I would never have put you in this position unless it was. I’ve treated you unfairly, and you’re right. I can’t have both, at least not right now. So no more making out, no more flirting with you. I’ll be good, I promise.”
I made a disbelieving sound in the back of my throat, but I really hoped he was serious. This would be good for both of us.
“Are you going to tell me what you need the money for yet?” I asked tentatively, on the off chance he felt guilty enough to open up.
“Not yet,” He stared down at me, so grave and serious.
“One day?” I whispered.
“Probably,” the smallest smile turned his lips up. “If you keep asking, then probably.”
I smiled back at that.
“I’m walking you to your car,” he announced, his tone not allowing for an argument.
“No kisses goodnight,” I reminded him. I opened the door and he followed out into the stairwell. He propped his door open with a brick that sat just inside his apartment.
So softly so I almost didn’t hear him, he said, “Tonight. No kisses goodnight….
tonight
.”
“Hmm?” I asked, daring him to repeat that.
“I promised I would be good,” he reminded me with no trace of humor in his voice.
And true to his word he walked me down all the flights of stairs and out into the parking lot. He didn’t touch me once, not even the guiding hand on my lower back I was getting used to.
At my car, he made sure I got in safely and that it started. Then he waited some more while I awkwardly pulled out of my parking spot-awkwardly, because he was watching me and that translated into me being a terrible driver because I was so nervous- and then stayed standing there, in the middle of his parking lot, until I was on the street and driving away from him.
I ignored the parts of my body that were disappointed he hadn’t tried to touch me again. And I completely disregarded the loss my heart felt that he was truthful with me, that he was trying to honor our bargain.
He was supposed to kiss me again,
damn it
! Didn’t he know how to read my mind??
Chapter
Twelve
Ok. I could do this. Two more hours of family time and I would be free. I just had to get through lunch at Grayson’s. A monologue about my failures from my mother. And Beckett’s interrogation. Easy peasy.
“Grayson, we brought you something,” my mother announced when he opened the door to his apartment. He was in his Grayson glory in athletic shorts and a high school wrestling t-shirt that was snug now across his shoulders. His hair wasn’t brushed, but it was short enough that it only kind of stood up at odd angles, and he was wearing his glasses instead of contacts, they weren’t as cool as Fin’s, but they did make him look smarter.
“Thanks for dressing up, Gray,” I snorted when I walked past him. I was of course in the new clothes my mom bought me, a showpiece to all her hard work this weekend.
We spent all of Saturday shopping. She was relentless in her pursuit to spend money on me. I eventually gave in, but only because I was able to distract her from housewares by expressing my desperation to have new clothes. To my surprise she didn’t have one negative thing to say about my new “style.” She even helped me find cute outfits that were less…. missionary.
“You look different, Els,” he said in an accusing tone.
“You look the same,” I snarked back, immediately on the defensive. “I thought grad students were supposed to dress for success?”
“Grad students spend seventy percent of their life studying, grad students are lucky if they remember to
get dressed
,” he intoned back.
“I think she looks stunning,” my mother cut in. She was standing in the open kitchen admiring both of us with an amused smile. It was like we were the most adorable thing she’d ever seen. “Ellie’s always dressed too mature for her age. This new look is more attractive.”
Oh my gosh, even my mother thought I was dowdy!
Grayson didn’t miss that either. He barked out a laugh and then said, “And by mature, she means you two could swap clothes, Els.”
“Oh, now I get it.” My mom tsked at my sarcasm and Grayson smiled at me.
“We brought lunch,” mom patted the counter where she had laid our deli lunch out on platters and in appropriate bowls. Grayson probably would have protested the use of all his dishes except he knew mom would stick around and wash them too.
“Where’s Beckett?” I asked. I walked over to Gray’s refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water before taking a seat at his table.
Grayson’s apartment was a ton nicer than mine, but not many weren’t. He had new appliances and new carpet. His apartment building was in a nicer part of town and actually not that far from Fin’s. Although Fin’s was trendy and modern, Grayson’s was comfortable and very, very new. Gray had also inherited a lot of furniture from our extended family. Money was spread through the ranks of the Harris’s and whenever one of us moved out on our own, every kind of relative would swoop in to add a piece of their outdated furniture. Outdated meant last season, since every woman, including my mother seemed to be in the constant process of remodeling this room or updating that room.
I was determined to be different.
However, it was nice to have all that free furniture.
Was nice.
In the severely past tense.
Grayson checked a text and then answered my question, “He just pulled up. He only just got home.”
“Did they win this weekend?” Beckett had been traveling for baseball since Thursday.
“Of course,” my mother answered like there was no other outcome.
The door opened and Beckett stumbled in. He looked like hell. His eyes were tired and bloodshot, his mouth drawn in a grim line. His shoulders sagged and his hair was…. askew. The several days of beard growth along his jaw did not improve his Grizzly Adams appearance. He was wearing his team warm up pants and a long sleeved baseball t-shirt that had his name and number on the back.
“Ack!” I screeched. “You are scary looking!”
He gave me the evil eye and sunk down into a chair at the table. He put his head directly into his hands and immediately started snoring.
“Is he serious?” I asked Grayson.
Grayson walked over and pushed at his elbow so that his hands flew apart and his face met the table with a loud smack. I bit my lip to keep from bursting into laughter while Beckett jumped up and started chasing Grayson around the room. He was now sporting a huge red mark across his forehead and the bridge of his nose to go along with all the rest of the disheveledness.
“Boys,” my mother sighed. “Settle down, let’s eat.”
“You are so dead,” Beckett growled.
“You’ve never been able to keep up with me, what makes you think you can now?” Grayson taunted while jumping over the couch. I admired his form, he would have made a good hurdler.
Beckett was close behind him though and almost got hold of his shirt. They continued to chase each other around the apartment while I walked into the kitchen to help my mom set the table.
“They are
grown
, Ellie. Do you ever think they’ll act like grownups?” My mother sounded exasperated. “Grayson, stop that and come eat. Leave your brother alone!”
At that moment Grayson stopped running and turned just a bit while flinging out a stiff arm. Beckett collided with Gray’s perfectly placed forearm at his throat and fell back to the ground, choking and sputtering.
Grayson walked over Beckett’s limp body and joined us at the table. Beckett slowly started breathing normally again and rolled over so he could crawl up to his hands and knees.
“Even I saw that coming, Becks.” I had no sympathy for the clothesline. It was a classic move and Grayson had been pulling it on Beckett since I was a baby. It was his own fault if he didn’t anticipate it.
He groaned something in reply, still wheezing and hyperventilating.
“Beckett honestly, the chicken is getting cold,” my mother said dryly.
Beckett crawled over to us and then dragged himself into his chair. I stifled a laugh at the purple color of his face and my mom’s puckered up expression of disgust.