“There’s nothing you need to know about me other than I’m not going to slip into this bed with you in the middle of the night…unless you ask me to.”
She huffs a humorless laugh. “No worries about that.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think so. Shower’s through there, but good luck finding a towel.” I shut the door and head out for a beer.
3
Kylie
I collapse onto Brett’s bed and drop my face into my hands. Closing my eyes, I inhale a deep breath. What am I doing here? I’ve only second-guessed myself eight thousand times, but I’ve come too far to turn back now. I’ve made a statement by walking away. I won’t beg my father for help, and I won’t be like my mother and sacrifice my soul…at least not from now on.
Even so, this could be my early demise. Tomorrow’s headline could read, “Woman Found Hacked Up in Guy’s Bathroom.”
If Brett is a psychopath, he’s a damn good-looking one—not that I’m noticing or anything. The very last thing I need is to get mixed up with another man. But he’s kind of hard to look away from with his whole young Tom Hardy thing going on. And he must be decent at heart, because he is helping me, albeit reluctantly.
I check my phone for messages and find one from Joshua. I close my eyes and let out the exhale to end all exhales. This is definitely not what I want to deal with at this moment.
Your dad called me today. He wants me to talk some sense into you.
I can’t help but get a little satisfaction out of this. My dad’s desperate. He can feel his control slipping away. Joshua texts again.
Is it true he cut off your credit cards and bank account? That’s hard-core.
My lip curls up in disgust as I refrain from responding. He doesn’t deserve my words.
Samantha says you’re not staying with her anymore. Where’d you go?
I just sit there staring at the phone, the rage building up in my gut once again.
Come on, just tell me so I don’t have to bug all our friends with our dirty laundry.
I stand up and throw the phone on the bed. “Your dirty laundry, Joshua. Yours.”
I head into the bathroom. It’s boy-gross, but not filthy like the rest of the house, which is a supreme relief. I shower the road trip off my body and out of my hair and then put on a lounge set. I pull out a pack of peanut butter crackers I got from the convenience store where I filled up my car with three dollars’ worth of gas. I didn’t even know you could do such a thing till I tried it and it worked. In my previous life, I just let the pump go until it cut off.
I’ve been lying here at least an hour, obsessively going through my former friends’ Instagram pages when I hear a knock at the front door. I sit still, hoping they will go away, but then the door opens. Whoever it is comes into the house.
“Brett!” I hear a female voice shout. Footsteps sound down the hallway, and I brace as the door flings open. “Naptime’s over. Get your—” A short girl sporting a messy bun—dark on top, auburn on bottom—stares at me. “Shit. Sorry.” She frowns and then holds up her hand. “Relax. I’m not one of the many. Is he in the bathroom?”
“Um, no.”
She checks her phone. “Asshole’s ignoring his phone. We’re supposed to go to the bonfire together, but screw it, I guess.”
As she goes to shut the door again, I say, “I’m not either.”
She stops and eyes me.
“I’m not one of the many. I’m Kylie.”
She just looks at me funny.
“He’s helping me out. I needed a place to stay.”
This seems to register with her. “Of course he is. Where did you come from?”
I sit up in the bed. “Oklahoma. I thought this was my housing unit. I mean, Lauren in Housing gave me the key card and unit number for this place, but clearly I’m not supposed to be here. I start work at the resort on Monday.”
“Thanks for the info, but your business is your own. You don’t know where he is?”
“No, he left out of here maybe an hour, hour and a half ago.”
“What about Val?”
“I haven’t met him yet.”
“All right. Well, if Brett gets back, tell him I went on to the bonfire without him. I’m Tori.”
“Will definitely do.”
She goes to shut the door and then scrunches up her face like she’s dreading her next words. “Do you want to come to the bonfire with me?”
“Oh, no, thank you. I’m good right here.”
She lets out a sigh and puts her hand on her hip. “Get up. Come on. You can’t spend your first weekend here holed up in this nasty-ass place.”
“No, really, I’m fine.”
“You don’t go to parties?”
“I do, of course,” I say, sounding very unconvincing. Something tells me if I mention to this girl that the parties I go to are typically catered and at someone’s McMansion, I’ll get an eye roll.
She shakes her head. “Man, have you happened into the wrong house. Come on. I’m offering to help you. I don’t do that a lot.”
As much as I want to stay in this bed, I know that part of all of this distance from my father and Joshua and finding my own place in life means I have to venture into the wild, and this girl seems like she would be a good guide.
“Okay, just give me a minute to change,” I say.
“I’ll be waiting on the front porch.”
Most of my clothes are in my other suitcases in the trunk of my car. I don’t want to be assuming by breaking all those out. So I dig in my smaller bag for anything, and I come up with a knee-length flowy skirt and heather-gray V-neck. I’ll call it hippy chic
