“I can’t believe you're eating a banana when they have burgers,” he says when he finally meets my eyes.
“Don’t talk with food in your mouth.”
He shoves me playfully, smiling before ripping at his lunch again.
BROOKS
AGE 16
“Stop,” she screeches, kicking her legs in an attempt to dislodge me. “Seriously, Brooks.” She tries for seriousness. “You’re being juvenile.”
My eyes widen as I dig my fingers in harder, her face going bright red as she struggles to breathe.
“Admit it.”
“No!” she yells through her squeals.
“Admit it, and I’ll stop.”
“No.”
I slide down the bed, grabbing her feet.
“No. Please, no. Brooks!”
I let my fingers dance across the soles of her feet lightly as she squirms.
“Please. Please. Please,” she chants. “Not my feet.”
I tickle her harder. “You know what you need to do.”
“All right.” She laughs against her better judgment. “All right.”
I stop, keeping her feet hostage.
“I stole your phone to text Evelyn to cancel your date, then deleted said text.”
I release her feet. “Why?”
She scurries upward, tucking her feet underneath her ass to protect them from further attack. “Because she’s a bitch, Brooks. You cannot be interested in her?”
Not in the slightest, but watching Henley squirm has always been my favorite pastime. “Her tits, sure.”
She throws a cushion at my head. “Gross. She actually pushed me in the hallway today and threatened that I’d be scrubbed off your shoe when you two got serious.”
In the past twelve months, I’ve managed to worm my way into Henley’s circle. Not that you can call it much of a circle with only two of us in it. Addy sits on the outskirts, much to her disgust. It was obvious Henley needed a person. She was lost and noticeably alone. It worked perfectly for me considering I too was in need of a person. I was new in town, and she fascinated me.
Henley’s eyes roll dramatically. “Don’t be ridiculous. The bitch is crazy. A rich girl with an attitude. I wanted to knock her down a peg. Or twelve.”
“Fair enough. Next time, though, just tell me. You know there’s no need to swipe my phone. I would’ve sent the text myself.”
“I know,” she admits just as a door upstairs slams shut.
We wait quietly for the screaming to start. The hideous roars and screeching as her parents communicate the only way they know how.
“It’s getting worse.”
I glance at the ceiling of her bedroom, knowing they’re standing directly above us, hurling insults at one another for their daughter to hear.
“She hit him the other night,” she confides.
“They let you see that?” I can’t even attempt to hide my disgust.
Over the past year, I’ve been privy to the inner workings of Henley’s parents. They don’t even care to hide their vile distaste for one another when I’m around anymore. Gone is the act. Not that there was a solid one to begin with.
They openly have affairs. Being seen with other men and women in public without a care of what it does to their daughter.
They’re a joke, and the entire town knows it.
They claim they love Henley. Too much apparently. But Henley’s right; she’s a trophy. One they both are dead set on holding at the end.
A shadow of sadness curtains Henley’s eyes, hiding away the rich chocolate spark of life. I hate this look. The despair that wraps itself around her day in and day out is getting worse. Every time I see her, it takes more and more work to make her smile.
“I can’t wait to escape,” she whispers, afraid they’ll hear her through their shrieks. “To run away and run through the world barefoot and free.”
“Where will you go?” I encourage her to keep talking. To distract her from the ugly of upstairs.
“Anywhere,” she dreams. “Everywhere.”
“Always so full of wanderlust.”
She smiles then. A great big grin that pushes a dimple into each of her cheeks. One that showcases all her teeth and the power in her dreams.
“You’re no different.” She pushes my shoulder, and I pretend to fall backward on her bed.
“True. Will you be happy, though?” I ask her seriously. “You come from an endless supply of money. Do you think living dollar-to-dollar while tending bar will be enough for you?”
Pulling a pillow to her chest, she squeezes it to her body. “Money is a façade, Brooks. It’s a security blanket that suffocates happiness. I’d go without every day to have parents who loved me the way they were supposed to and who loved one another.”
I watch her candidly. I hate that I don’t know how she truly feels. I'd need to know to have any chance at healing it. But I’m grateful in the same breath because my life is the complete opposite of Henley’s.
“I’d give everything up to live in a house like yours, Brooks. I won’t ever settle for anything else. This toxicity kills everything inside you.” She gestures above, where her parents are now threatening to run away with Henley like she’s an overpriced suitcase and not a real fucking person.
“Come here,” I say.
She comes to me easily, and I wrap her in a tight hug.
“We’ll travel the world together,” I tell her. “I’ll take photos, and you can pour beers until your hands ache. Then we'll get up and leave, moving onto the next place that calls our name.”
“You promise?” she mumbles into my chest.
“I’ll never make you a promise, Henley. You might be silly enough to believe it, and if I fail to deliver, I’ll only shatter your heart. You’ve had enough heartache already.”
Pulling back from our embrace, she stares up at me.
“We don’t promise. We make a pact.” I hold my hand upright, and she doesn't hesitate to place hers against it. Curling my fingers through hers, she does the same until we’re holding hands. “An agreement signed in friendship that we’re
