“Indie, talk to me.”
“I missed talking to you,” she whispers.
Fuck. I’ve hurt her. “I didn’t call or text enough. I wanted to.”
“Then, why didn’t you? I know it’s dumb but we both promised to keep in touch. Regularly.”
“My workdays were anything between twelve and seventeen hours long. I would get back to my apartment or the trailer, and just crash. It’s not a good excuse, but I was exhausted in every way imaginable… and the time difference made it difficult to call.”
I’m an arsehole, making excuses as if they matter.
She squirms in her seat like she would rather be talking about anything else. “I do understand, Spence.”
“But it’s still not okay.”
“No, it is. You’re busy doing this amazing thing, living your dream. I guess neither of us really understood what you were taking on. You know… how much time and effort it would require. I’ve worried about you.”
“I certainly didn’t realise, either. At first, it was a shock and took a lot of getting used to. I was sure I’d fail.”
She shakes her head. “You will never fail. You’re the best actor on the planet.”
“Let’s not get carried away.”
“To me, you are.”
My chest is tight. I look into her eyes and want to drag her into my lap. “I don’t ever want you to feel like I don’t have time for you. I know that sounds crazy, considering I’ve just told you I didn’t have time to call. But if you ever need me, Indie, I would be on the first plane home no matter what I have going on.”
Her smiles almost knocks me out cold. She is the only one who can bring me to my knees.
“You need to sleep, or can I come in for hot chocolate?”
“Hot chocolate?”
“We used to drink it all the time before we converted to coffee.”
I remember. “Before we needed something harder thanks to high school exams.”
“Ugh.” She shudders. “I can’t even think about that time without breaking a sweat. Soon enough, I’ll have finals at uni.”
“You’re really going to fall apart.”
“Thank you for the faith you have in me.”
Laughing, I open my door. “I have faith. I know you’ll ace them. I also know you’ll stress so much that your hair falls out.”
She grabs a fistful of hair. “Not happening.”
“Come on, I think Mum has whipped cream and mini marshmallows, too.”
We go inside, and I flick the kettle on.
She watches me like a hawk.
I try to focus on making the hot chocolate, but my head is swimming with indecent thoughts. How I would love to bend her over the counter in front of me. All evening, I’ve been uncomfortable. The tight jeans, the hint of cleavage, the subtle hand on my arm or chest when we’ve been messing around… I’ve missed her. I’ve not missed the blue balls.
“I’m going to enjoy this,” I tell her, putting both mugs down on the sofa.
“You cannot tell me there’s a lack of sugar in America.”
“No, and that only makes it harder to resist.”
She takes a look at me, her eyes raking over my chest.
Fuck’s sake, make it harder.
I raise a brow.
“Hmm, can’t say the new diet and exercise isn’t working for you.”
“Glad you approve.”
Indie curls her legs under her fine arse on the sofa. She turns herself on the sofa cushions, so she’s fully facing me. She’s very close. Still not close enough.
“I’m kind of scared about finals,” she admits.
“I have no doubt you’re going to get a first, Miss A-Star.”
“What if I don’t?”
“That doesn’t mean a fail. You are absolutely going to pass, Indie. Why do you need a first?”
She shrugs. Why is she so petrified to fail?
“Indie,” I lift her chin, and her terrified eyes search mine. “What’s going on?”
“I just want to make sure I have a good career.”
“You can do anything you want. The counselling world is missing you.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve got to get a job first.”
“You wouldn’t start out on own your own straight off?”
“I need the guaranteed salary. I’ve had some work experience in a few companies and really enjoyed it. One, I keep in touch with. The owner Sally is really nice. I’m hoping she’ll offer me a job when I graduate.”
I want to ask her if she needs money. This conversation has my stomach in knots, worrying that she’s going without.
“Are you okay?” is what I actually ask. It’s the most direct way I can ask her that without having her close up on me.
“Yeah, I’m just the one who worries about stuff, remember.”
“Uh-huh. Why are you putting so much pressure on yourself?” I ask the question as casually as I can and pass her the hot chocolate from the table. Please don’t throw it on me.
She takes the mug from me, not throwing it over my face. “Thanks. I expect the best from myself. I want the career, and I want to help people.”
“You. Won’t. Fail. Indie, you’re the smartest, most caring person I know. I wish you would see yourself the way I see you.”
She licks the cream, and I squirm, imagining a very different scenario.
“Thanks, Hollywood. That means a lot coming from you.”
I squirm again.
Eleven
Indie
I stay at Spencer’s for three hours, dinking two hot chocolates and eating a cheese toastie. It was the only way he was going to let me drive home. He still looks stressed, but I couldn’t be more sober if I tried.
When I arrive home, it’s almost one in the morning. Through the drawn curtains, I can see the faint glow of the TV. Though that means nothing. There’s no way they’ll be awake this late after drinking since somewhere around midday. The TV still being on only means they got too drunk to care about switching it off.
At least I won’t have to talk to them.
I get out of my car and head inside.
The front door creaks when I open it. Inside is cold, despite the fact that the temperature is permanently set
