One Week Girlfriend
Page 11

So gross. And scary. Drew acts like he hates her and that opens up another can of worms in my brain. Lots of what ifs I don’t like thinking about because they’re too ugly to face. It’s none of my business, I tell myself over and over again as I sit alone and wonder.
But he’s brought me into this mess. He’s sort of made it my business, right?
Wrong. Some things are better left alone.
Not if someone’s hurting because of them.
The internal argument battles within me for the rest of the day. Until I’m a total bundle of nerves while I wait anxiously for his return. Where could he be? I know golf games can take forever but nothing like this. And I know he’s with his dad because I’ve kept watch on the damn garage for hours and no one’s returned.
Though Adele left about thirty minutes ago. That freaks me out. What if she went somewhere to meet them?
Crap. I don’t know what to do.
When the door finally opens around seven-thirty, I’m filled with relief. I hear his footsteps echo in the tiled entryway, see him stride by, headed down the hall while I sit in the living area. I have one of those unbelievably soft faux fur throw blankets draped over me and I probably blend in with the couch. He doesn’t notice me, doesn’t bother saying a word.
I chew anxiously on my fingernail, my stomach growling since I never ate dinner. I hear him enter his bedroom and shut the door and I let out a shaky exhale. I was holding my breath and didn’t even realize it.
Not two minutes later he’s out of his room, entering the living area and stopping short when he sees me. “Hey.”
“Hi.” I press my lips together, tell myself to breathe.
“I didn’t see you when I came in.” He looks amazing in a black hooded sweatshirt and khaki cargo shorts, his dark hair ruffled by the wind that seems to be constantly blowing around here. I’d bet a million dollars he has a polo shirt on underneath. Typical golf wear, though he should be wearing pastel plaid shorts and not cargoes. Not that I know anything about golf.
“I’ve been sitting here the entire time.”
He runs his hand over his head and my fingers literally itch to do the same. I remember how silky soft his hair is, how much he liked it when I touched him there. Does he ever really allow anyone to touch him? He tends to move through life all by himself.
That realization fills me with sadness. While I allow an endless, faceless stream of guys to touch me. I crave it because for a brief moment, I feel like someone cares about me. The feeling is always fleeting and I end up as empty as I was before. Sometimes more so.
“I didn’t know where you were all day,” I say to fill the silence since he’s not talking.
“I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long.” I wonder if it took a lot for him to apologize to me. I bet he doesn’t have to answer to anyone most of the time.
I shrug. I need to act like what he’s done doesn’t bother me. “I’m not your keeper.”
“Yeah, but you’re my guest. I’m sure you were bored all day.” He moves closer to the couch and that’s when the smell hits me.
He reeks of beer. And his eyes are kind of bloodshot, his cheeks ruddy. I bet he’s drunk. My guard goes immediately up and I shove myself into the corner of the couch when he settles down beside me. I hate the smell of beer—crazy, considering I work in a bar.
But when I smell it at La Salle’s, it’s different. I’m busy, I’m moving, I’m serving customers and working my tail off. In a one-on-one situation, the scent of beer reminds me of my mom and all her shitty boyfriends. How they drink constantly. Almost every one of the guys she’s been with were complete alcoholics with rage issues.
Angry drunks scare the hell out of me and Drew’s a big guy with lots of pent up issues. If he displays even a glimmer of anger toward me, I’m out of here.
“I was fine,” I say. “I sat on the beach for a long time.”
“Didn’t you get cold? The weather wasn’t the best out there today.”
I shrugged. “Figured I should soak it up while I’m here, right? Doubt I’ll ever be somewhere as beautiful as this again.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here, Fable.” His voice is soft, his expression…it breaks my heart. He looks so bleak, so disturbed, I wish I could say something, do something to ease his pain.
He studies me, his blue eyes dark, his head tilted to the side. I wonder what he sees. I know what I see—a confused, lonely man who won’t let anyone in.
For whatever stupid reason, I want to be the one he lets in. Maybe I could help him, maybe I couldn’t, but he needs comfort. I can tell.
Like souls find each other, you know. As corny as it sounds, I’m starting to believe we were brought together for a reason.
Drew
As usual, she’s looking at me like she can see right through me, and she’s making me nervous. I’ve stayed away from Fable all day on purpose. Everything that happened last night left me feeling like I could spiral completely out of control if I didn’t get my shit together and quick. I haven’t felt that way in long time. This is the reason why I don’t come back home.
And I’m never coming back here after this visit. I don’t care how much I might hurt my dad, I can’t do this any longer. I can’t pretend that this place, these people don’t affect me. They do. Everything f**ks with my head and reminds me of what I used to be. I don’t want to be that person anymore. I’m not.
There’s no other choice. I have to stay away.
Looking at Fable, seeing the sympathy in her eyes, I know I should stay away from her too. Once she really gets to know me, I could hurt her. I know I’ll hurt her. I’m afraid she’s this close to figuring out what my problem is. And if she doesn’t, I’m afraid I’m this close to blurting it out. Once I confess, I can never take it back. Ever. It’ll be out there, making the both of us uncomfortable. Ruining whatever sort of relationship, friendship, whatever you want to call it, we have.
I couldn’t stand the thought, so I left the house early, jumping on the chance to golf with my dad when he asked. Not only did we play a long, intense eighteen rounds with a couple of his friends, we then ended up at the golf course bar. I’m not a big drinker but I slammed back beer after beer, enjoying the buzz the alcohol gave me. My brain settled into a numb, fuzzy place where I could just forget.
We joked, we talked, my dad bragged about what a great football player I am and that made me feel good. Dad and I don’t get a lot of time together alone. Adele’s always there trying to muck stuff up, or we’re doing something that doesn’t allow for too much one-on-one time. The lunch we had together yesterday had been uncomfortable, and I’m thankful we got past that.
Spending today with Dad was good for both of us. But I always had that nagging feeling in the back of mind. That I was ditching Fable and doing it on purpose and the guilt lingered.
That’s why I told her I was sorry.
“I caught your stepmom sniffing around outside this afternoon.” Fable’s tone is casual, but her words are like nine little bombs dropping all over me.
Tension radiates up my spine, across my shoulders and I stiffen. “Yeah?”
Fable nods. “I confronted her.”
“What?” Shock rips through me. So does fear. What if Adele said something?
“Yeah. She didn’t like it either. Told me that we wouldn’t last, that I wasn’t your usual type.”
I remain silent, afraid of what she might say next.
“And when I asked her what was your type, she said she was.”
The blood is roaring in my ears so whatever else Fable says I can’t hear it. Her lips are moving and I literally cannot hear her.
Without thought I stand and go back to my bedroom. She’s calling my name, her voice is faint and I think she’s following after me, but I’m not sure. I can’t see, my vision is blurred and I’m ready to boil over in shame and fear and rage.
Adele’s taken it too far. Again. She always does. I want to tell Fable everything but I can’t. I’m scared she’ll hate me. Judge me.
Be so disgusted by me she’ll leave.
We’re barely halfway into this stupid trip and it’s all going to shit. I don’t know how to handle this anymore.
Fable
I chase after him, calling his name, but it’s like Drew can’t hear me. The way his face became so completely void of emotion when I told him what Adele said was scary. He shut down right in front of me and it was the strangest thing. Like he was throwing up some sort of coping mechanism or something.
He slams his bedroom door right in my face and I open it, bursting into his room like a woman on a mission. He’s standing in the middle of the room with his back to me, his head thrown back so he’s staring up at the ceiling. I wish I could read his thoughts, offer him comfort, something. Anything.
But I just stand there, shifting on my feet, overcome with confusion.
“You should go,” he says, his voice darkly quiet.
“Fine, I’ll leave you alone.” I understand when someone wants time to himself. I’m big on that most of the time anyway.
“No.” He turns to look at me, his expression harsh and unyielding. “I mean you should go, as in go home. You don’t need to stay here. I don’t need your help any longer.”
My stomach pitches and rolls and I feel like I’m going to throw up. “I don’t mind staying…”
“I don’t want you here.” He cuts me off and I clamp my lips shut. “You don’t need to be around this shit, Fable. What you’ve had to deal with is bad enough.”
I feel like I’m going to cry. He doesn’t want me here. No one wants me anywhere. My mom doesn’t care if I’m dead or alive. My brother would rather be hanging with his friends. I don’t really have any friends besides the few I work with, and we’re really more like acquaintances. Girls don’t like me because they think I’m some sort of slut who wants to steal their boyfriend.
Right now, I’m all alone. No one wants me.
Holding my head up high, I sniff, fighting off the tears. “I’ll go pack my bag.”
I turn and leave his room and he doesn’t stop me. No surprise. What did I expect? That he would chase after me and beg me not to go after all?
Of course not. My life isn’t a made-for-TV movie. I don’t matter to him. I need to remember that.
My room is shrouded in darkness and I flick on the overhead light, head over to the closet where my dusty, torn duffel bag is. It’s still half-full, I never really unpacked for fear of something like this happening.
Guess my psychic abilities are working at full capacity at the moment.
I start stuffing the bag full of my clothes, not bothering to fold anything. I don’t know how I’m supposed to leave, but I guess I could call a taxi and have them take me to the bus station. I have the money in my bank account and my debit card is on me so I can pay for the ticket and head on home. Hopefully I won’t have to hang out at the bus station for too long.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I glance at the screen and see Owen has texted me. Something about spending the night at Wade’s again, which I tell him is fine and that I’m coming home tonight. He responds immediately.
What happened? Get fired? Did the dad come on to you? He asked.
Long story. I’ll explain when I get home, I reply then shove my phone back in the pocket of my jeans.
I feel like a failure. I can’t manage to be a girlfriend right and all I had to do was stand there and look pretty. Smile and nod and say nothing. How hard can that be?
Pissed at myself, I go into the bathroom and clear out all my toiletries, shoving them in the cosmetics bag I brought them in. I snag my razor and travel sized shampoo and conditioner out of the shower and throw them in the bag, then zip it up, satisfied with the loud noise it makes. Everything echoes in this house, what with the soaring ceilings and the tiled floors. The main house is worse and it grates on my nerves.
Maybe I will be glad to get out of here. When I get on that bus, maybe I’ll be able to breathe again.
I turn to leave the bathroom and find Drew standing in the doorway, much like he was last night. He’s gripping the top of the doorframe and leaning his body halfway through the door. His sweatshirt is riding up, taking his shirt along with it and his shorts hang low on his hips, exposing a thin slice of his stomach. I catch a glimpse of dark hair trailing from his navel and I jerk my gaze up to meet his, embarrassed I’m checking him out when I should be thoroughly pissed at him.
“Don’t go.”
I stiffen my spine. This is beyond ridiculous. All the push and pull is really screwing with my brain. “I’m not in the mood to play games, Drew.”
He lets go of the doorway and enters the bathroom. I back away from him, my butt hitting the edge of the counter and stopping me. I’m trembling, but not from fear. It’s because he’s so close, I can smell him.
Somehow the scent of beer is gone, replaced by Drew’s warm, familiar smell. I can feel his body heat, the tension vibrating off him in potent waves. “I’m so sorry, Fable. I just…this place sucks. And I don’t blame you if you want to leave so I was giving you an out. I was trying to convince myself that’s what was best, getting you out of here, but I can’t do this alone. I don’t want to do this alone. I’d like it if you stay.”
“Do what alone, Drew? What’s so bad about your parents anyway? You don’t tell me anything and my mind just…wanders.” I inhale sharply when he stops directly in front of me, so close our chests brush against each other.