Page 29 of One Bet

“Alex?”

Without another word, he turned and stalked out of the store. Instead of selecting anything special, I just made a random selection, and the salesgirl chuckled when I set two of the bra and panty sets on the counter. “Oh, girl. Good choice. Definitely make-up worthy.”

Covergirl or a big old apology kind of make-up? But I didn’t want to ask, so I just agreed. “Yeah.”

“And don’t worry, once he sees you in this thing, he’s gonna forget whatever made him storm out of here.” She kept the hangers and stuffed my purchases into a fur-lined, zebra stripe bag.

“Oh, he’s not my…I bought these for someone else.” But that didn’t explain why I was telling my business to a complete stranger.

She chuckled. “Well, that poor guy has it bad for you.”

Oh, what did she know? I took my bag, stuffed it into my purse, and walked back to the marina since Alex was my ride, and he’d left in a huff. But it was okay because I practically floated on a cloud thinking of Keaton and that we would finally be together tonight.

18

Keaton

Something was off, different than this morning. Ordinarily, I didn’t mind if she stared at me, but she’d been looking through me for more than an hour while she pretended to eat the Chinese take-out that had been waiting for me when I arrived.

I’d just stuffed a dumpling in my mouth when she sighed. “We aren’t friends.”

She spoke as if she’d just discovered electricity as if surprised by her statement.

“We’re not?” I liked to think we were.

“We’re people who know each other and sleep together.” She shook her head and leaned back in her chair. “But we’re not friends. I don’t call you when I’ve had a bad day.”

I smiled, but I had a bad feeling in my stomach, so I sat back and crossed my arms. “You could.”

Seeing her name on my phone screen made me inordinately happy. “I’d like that.”

“You don’t even know about Billy Pruett.”

If I was supposed to be following this conversation, she was going to be a bit let down. “Who’s Billy Pruett?”

“It doesn’t matter, you don’t know him.” She shook her head.

“I mean, I could tell you and you would be, I don’t know, sympathetic or whatever, but I’d only be telling you because you don’t know, not because you found me crying after he ran off and left me on the swings then told everybody I had bad breath.” She sighed as if she’d just summed up everything in that one mixed-up explanation.

And I had no idea what I was supposed to say to that. But I felt her slipping away from me, pointing out my flaws and preparing to use them against me. “Avery, what’s going on? Who’s Billy Pruett, and why does he matter tonight?”

She chuckled. “He doesn’t matter. He’s the first boy I ever kissed. When I was eleven and the point isn’t about Billy. It’s that you don’t know about him. We don’t have a good foundation. I mean, I know about you because you tell me things, but I don’t tell you stuff.”

She stood and took my half-finished plate to scrape into the disposal in the sink before she spun to face me again, this time pointing a fork. “I don’t tell you stuff.”

“Why not?”

She tossed the fork into the sink, and I couldn’t stand not touching her anymore because if this was going to be the last time, I was going to make it last. I stood, moved behind her to slide my arms around her waist and pull her back into my chest.

“Maybe I don’t trust you.” She spoke softly, and the syllables stuttered out as if she wasn’t even sure she wanted to say the words.

When I used my chin to move her hair back, she tilted her head so I could reach the spot under her ear that she liked kissed.

“Why don’t you trust me?” I continued to nuzzle her hair and tried not to move too much. She might scamper away.

It took her an extra second to answer, maybe because I slid my hand under the hem of her shirt and rubbed my thumb in a little circle around her belly button. “History, and because I don’t know you very well.”

I took her earlobe into my mouth and sucked so that her breath hitched.