Page 24 of Hairpin Curves

And yet.

And yet.

“Why are you still living in Florida?” Megan asked.

Scarlett looked across the table, her expression shifting from cautious to aloof. “It’s cheap. I told you that.” She took a sip of her water. Her red nail polish was chipping. It was such a weird detail to notice, a bit of vulnerability, a crack in Scarlett’s armor. Megan felt defensive, and she hated feeling defensive.

“Lots of places are cheap,” Megan said, pushing a bit.

Scarlett seemed to consider the comment, and then gave a bit of a half-shrug. “I used to think I wanted to get out. I thought there was nothing for me in Florida.”

“Is that why you moved to New York?”

Scarlett smiled, but it was a bitter smile, the kind of smile with no amusement in it. She looked down at her chipped fingernails for a long time. “Sure. That was part of it.”

Megan wanted to ask about the rest of it, but she knew Scarlett wouldn’t tell her. “But you came back.”

“I came back.” Scarlett nodded. “And I’ll probably stay. I think Florida is in my blood, now.” She let out a long sigh. “What about you? You ever think about moving away?”

Megan snorted. “Doesn’t everybody?”

“I mean seriously. Did you ever seriously consider it?”

Megan had, sometimes, when another stilted relationship left her alone again, when Matt was being a particularly vocal douchebag, when her parents hinted that she might want to do something different with her life...back before they stopped caring or commenting at all. But she’d never done it. She’d never felt like it was worth the effort. Wouldn’t every place be the same?

“Now and then. But I don’t like being far away from everything I care about.” Megan shifted on the slick vinyl of her chair.

“What do you care about?”

Megan looked down at the laminate table, anywhere but at Scarlett’s searching gaze. She cared about her family, of course, even her asshole brother, and she cared about her book group and the gym she didn’t attend often enough, but none of those seemed like the right answers. “I like stability,” she said. “Maybe I like it too much.”

“Nothing wrong with stability.”

Megan gave a little half-laugh, thinking of all the ways her life was losing stability by the day. “I threw my brother out of the house.”

Scarlett raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Megan flushed with the emotions running through her, remembered pride mixing with the irritation she still got when she thought about it. “I told him he had until I got back from this trip to move out.”

Scarlett whistled. “You think he’ll trash the house in retaliation?”

Megan had considered it. “I think he’s too lazy for that. I think he’ll take the path of least resistance and move in with my parents or one of his friends.”

“The path of least resistance is probably just to stay put in your house and see if you’re bluffing.” Scarlett took a sip of her water. “Unless you’ve stood up to him before.”

“I don’t think he’d do that. I think he knows I’m serious.” Megan remembered the way his expression had faded from anger to something like resignation and exasperation, portraying himself as a victim in his own mind once again. He always did that.

The waitress returned with Megan’s fried green tomatoes, which looked like golden-brown disks sitting next to some kind of pink sauce. She frowned at them. She had never been one for trying new foods, but then again, she’d never been one for trying much of anything. Across the table, Scarlett watched her slice one of them in half.

It crunched in her mouth, breading and then the sour underripe tomato, and it wasn’t unpleasant but she wasn’t sure how she felt about it yet. She dipped the second half in the sauce, and that was much nicer. She didn’t realize she was smiling until Scarlett smiled back, tentatively. “What?” Megan asked, a little flare of self-consciousness rising up inside her.

“I just...like seeing you happy.” Scarlett looked away, leaving Megan with weird feelings that she couldn’t quite explain. Megan shoved the dish toward her.

“Here. Eat some of these.”

Their conversation was actually pleasant for the rest of lunch, and eventually, Megan let her guard down enough to relax. It helped that she was so tired she had a hard time maintaining her walls. As she ate, she started to feel like she might even have some affection for Scarlett. Those were dangerous feelings, the kind that got people hurt, and she tried to rein them in. But when she yawned for what might be the fifth time since finishing her sandwich, Scarlett smiled at her across the table, a gentle smile that made a soft warmth spread throughout Megan’s chest.

“We should get a room,” Scarlett said.