I nod. “Well, since those two own a store, why don’t we head there so Hunter can buy his snacks?”
“It’s closed today, but I’ll ask them if they don’t mind opening it for a bit.”
She links my arm with hers and pushes past Hunter. Usually I would break free but I decide to let her have this one. As long as she doesn’t touch my hands, it’s fine.
We walk farther into town, Hunter trailing behind us. We pass old-looking two-story buildings on each side. I can’t tell if they’re houses or businesses because none of them have signs.
After about five minutes of walking, Ron stops us at a building that looks almost like all the others, but up close, I can see shelves stocked with food and products through the large windows.
“Wait here for a bit,” Ron says. “I’ll go ask Giselle if she can open the store for you guys.”
I nod and Ron jogs up the staircase attached to the side of the building.
“You two seem really close,” Hunter says.
“Yeah, she’s like a sister to me,” I say.
He chuckles. “I kind of feel like a third wheel.”
“Oh, sorry about that.”
“It’s fine. It doesn’t really bother me. I just came for chips, right?” He shrugs.
Something about the way he said that last part makes me feel uneasy. “Well you did, didn’t you? I mean, why else would you come?”
He just shrugs again.
“Chrys,” Ron calls out from the top of the staircase. “Come upstairs. They want to meet you.”
“Oh, okay,” I say. I wasn’t expecting to go into their home, but seeing that they let Ron stay there all this time, they must be pretty hospitable people.
I start to go up the stairs but Hunter isn’t following. I turn back. “Aren’t you coming?”
“Well it seems like she specifically said they want to meet you, so I’m not sure if I should come or not.”
I sigh. “Just come on.”
I head up the stairs, this time hearing Hunter coming up behind me. Ron holds the door open for us and then closes it behind us. We’re in a small living room attached to an open kitchen, both decorated in an old-fashioned style. A dark-haired woman with burn scars on her thighs is sitting on a blue, plastic-covered sofa, her head leaning against her arm on the armrest.
She must be Giselle.
A red-haired, heavily-freckled woman hurries over to them, carrying a tray with five glasses of lemonade on it. “Come, have a seat.”
She brings them over to the living room. She puts the tray on the table—a wood stump—and sits down in the red armchair by the sofa.
I survey the area. There are four seats and five people. I sit on the ground by the table, across from the sofa. Hunter sits next to me on the ground, and Ron sits on the sofa, a space between her and the dark-haired woman who I assume is Giselle.
The red-haired woman smiles and says, “So you must be Chrys. It’s so nice to meet you.”
“Oh, nice to meet you too,” I say. “And you are…?”
Ron jumps in. “She’s Iris, and this is her wife, Giselle.”
Giselle nods, a lazy look in her eyes.
Ron gestures to me. “This is my friend, Chrys.” She gestures to Hunter. “And this is, uh, her boyfriend, Hunter.”
I snap my gaze to Ron, glaring at her. Why the hell would she say that?
She’s smiling at me mischievously. She must be bored and wants to play around a little. She always lies so smoothly, like it’s no big deal. That used to upset me because I was never sure if she was lying to me or not, but after a while, I realized she doesn’t lie to me and so I came to admire her skill.
But now, I don’t find it particularly praise-worthy.
Iris leans over, resting her arms on her bare thighs, an excited look on her face. “Ooh, romance! I love romance! How long have you been dating?”
I flash a pained smile and then turn to Hunter, gesturing for him to tell her.
His face has gone red and he looks flustered. “Oh, um, just a couple of months.”
“Ah it’s still fresh!” Iris claps her hands, delighted. “The honeymoon phase. You should cherish it now. Trust me.”
“What are you saying?” Giselle says, speaking for the first time. Her words sound accusatory, but her tone is just plain, like she doesn’t really care, but she’s saying what she knows Iris wants to hear.
Iris pouts. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You never do anything romantic anymore.”
“I’ve never done anything romantic ever,” Giselle says. “You know I’m not that kind of person.”
“Yeah, me either,” I chime in, chuckling nervously.
“See?” Giselle gestures to me. “Chrys gets it.”
“Hunter, are you a romantic person?” Ron asks with that same mischievous smile. She’s getting a kick out of this.
Hunter blinks rapidly. His face becomes an even deeper shade of red. “Well, I-I mean, I just do whatever Chrys wants.”
Ron’s smile vanishes and she narrows her eyes at him.
“That’s nice, Hunter,” Iris says, “I wish Giselle would do what I want.”
Giselle spreads her arms out, placating. “What do you want then, Iris?”
“Flowers would be nice. Or an apology.” Iris looks at Giselle pointedly.
“I’m not going to apologize for that. Ron and I did what we had to do.”
“And for what? Put yourselves in danger unnecessarily!”
Giselle narrows her eyes, a fierce change from her previous lazy expression. “Iris, let’s talk about this later.”
Iris leans back in the chair with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Chrys,” Ron says, her tone sounding light, but I can sense the seriousness in it. “I just remembered I need to show you something.” She stands up. “Will you come with me for a moment?”
“Sure,” I say.
She leads me down the hallway into a small bedroom on the right. This room is also decorated in such a grandma’s style, with weird dolls on the dresser and a thin quilt topping the queen-sized bed.
Ron
