Ask Me Anything

by Molly E. Lee

  I furrowed my brow, speed-reading. “Sabrina said something about the latest blog?” I glanced at her in question before continuing to read. “Said that the creator was a hack and that she’d been interested in it at first, but after hearing all the parents’ concerns, she thinks the person could be some creeper?”

  “Bitch.”

  I raised my brows at her response.

  “What’s Tessa saying?” she asked again, much softer.

  I read and reread all of Tessa’s comments. “She’s defending the blog. Said it’s helped her in more ways than one. Made her feel like she had a safe place to go to talk about stuff she couldn’t with other people. That Sabrina is…” Fuck me. “An attention whore.”

  Amber chuckled but quickly stopped when she saw my face. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “The last thing Tessa needs is to be on Sabrina’s radar.” She was already on Tanner’s shit list and she didn’t even know it. I was doing everything I could to keep it that way, too. I rubbed my palms over my face. What was going on with her lately? Ghosting Sean’s and my texts was one thing—I already knew that was because of the prank—but she’d barely even been around the house lately. And now she was defending the sex blog I was tasked with unmasking?

  Fuck. My. Life.

  “Sabrina probably doesn’t take the time to read through all the comments,” Amber said, scooting back from her chair to stand. “It would take someone hours every day to go through that amount. She doesn’t have the patience or the care to.”

  “I hope you’re right,” I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “Do you like the blog?”

  “Yeah,” she said, her voice cracking a bit. Was she embarrassed about checking it out? “It’s…” She shrugged. “I don’t know.” She hooked her thumb toward the counter. “I’ve got to get ready for my shift.” She backed away as if I’d suddenly admitted I wanted to become a famous hacker who pulled stunts for the limelight.

  “Okay,” I said, following to plant her with a goodbye kiss. She kissed me back, but I could feel the tension in her body, so I cut it super short. “Thanks for your help.”

  “Always,” she said. “It was fun.”

  “Sneaking into a system and changing commands, fun?” I grinned, covering my chest. “You’re a girl after my own heart.”

  Heat rushed her cheeks as she headed toward the swinging door that led to the kitchen. “Isn’t it already mine?”

  My lips popped open, the breath stalling in my lungs.

  Hell yeah it is.

  I nodded, dropping my hands. “You know it is.”

  “Good,” she said, biting down on her smile. She spun around, hurrying behind the counter, then slipped a few brownies into a paper bag and handed them to me. “Go see Tessa,” she said. “Sounds like she could use her brother and another brownie session.”

  “You always have the best ideas.”

  “It’s a curse,” she said, and I did a double take at the worry cracking her flirty gaze.

  “See you tomorrow, Pixie,” I said as she disappeared through the kitchen door.

  I left in as big a hurry as I’d come. Suddenly wondering if I’d been so wrapped up in protecting Tessa that that I’d neglected her when she needed me. Concentrating my time on Amber, the TOC, and doing every little thing Tanner commanded wasn’t helping me be present, either.

  Balance.

  I needed to find it, and fast. Because things were already slipping through the cracks.

  But being with Amber?

  She was worth every single amount of effort it took to rearrange my life, because it just didn’t make sense without her at the heart of it.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Amber

  “Mom?” I called from my room, shutting my laptop.

  “What’s up, Buttercup?” She pranced into my room, a basket of laundry on her hip.

  I took the basket, sat it on my bed, and started folding.

  She arched a brow at me. “What’d you do?”

  “Nothing!” I laughed, folding a T-shirt. “Can’t a girl fold laundry with her mom?”

  “Of course she can, but my sweet, wonderful, genius teenage daughter doesn’t do it often.”

  “Okay, fine,” I said, reaching for some Marvel leggings and rolling them up. “I was wondering…”

  “Yes?” She kept her eyes on her stack of clothes, patient as always.

  “What are your thoughts on…cheating? Like, if one person is in love with the other but they’re married. But the married person is way older and still sees the other person?”

  Mom paused her folding, her eyes finally finding mine. “You writing a story?”

  “Not exactly…” I hated—absolutely hated—lying to Mom. I couldn’t tell her, but she was my best source of knowledge for the blog. I wished I had all the answers myself, but there was no one I trusted more with information so important. Which gave me the confidence to try to help others who weren’t as fortunate as me to have the best mom ever.

  “Well,” she said, sighing, “I’m not a fan of cheating. I never write it, as you know. It’s a super-difficult topic. Sometimes a trigger topic for certain people who had a trauma with it. There are always circumstances where perhaps cheating was necessary in the beginning—abusive partners and such—but in the end, for it to be a healthy relationship…something has to change.”

  I nodded, mentally soaking up the words to apply to the next blog.

  “And as for the age difference thing,” she continued, “that’s tricky, too. If someone is thirty and the partner is forty, there isn’t much of a maturity difference, is there? But if someone is, say, eighteen and the partner is twenty-eight, then there’s a major gap in emotional development.” She eyed me, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “You sound like Dad.” No doubt his decades of psychology had rubbed off on her over the years. Hell, it had rubbed off on me with this intense desire to help people.

  “Don’t tell him that.” She swatted me with the pair of socks she’d rolled. “Anyway, does that answer your question?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  More or less. I was able to draw as much from my own feelings on the topic, but I’d wanted a trusted source to confirm it. The commenter I’d selected for today’s post was in a wicked emotional state, and I’d have to handle it as delicately as Mom implied.

  Mom gathered the folded clothes that were hers or Dad’s and placed them neatly in the basket, leaving mine on the bed. “If you’re writing a book,” she said, stopping in my opened doorway, “I may be able to help you, you know?”

  I smiled at her. “You’d be the first person I’d tell if I was attempting to pen a novel, Mom.”

  “Just checking,” she said, flashing me a wink and headed down the hall.

  I waited a few minutes before opening my laptop again. Now prepped for my next post, I needed to publish it before I had to get ready for tonight’s date. Swallowing hard, I placed my fingers on the keys.

  Question of the Day:

  Fortnite4food asks: “I’m in love. Think about her all day and night, can’t eat, can’t sleep, all-consuming kind of love. There is only one problem.

  Okay two.

  She’s married.

  She’s six years older than me.

  We were friendly at first. Then things happened. Amazing things. She loves me, too. I know it.

  But she hasn’t left her husband yet, and it’s torture seeing her every day and not being able to show anyone I love her. I can’t hate the husband, either, because I’ve met him and he’s a good dude. I feel like an asshole, but she’s it for me.

  What can I do to get her to fess up to him?”

  It sounds like your feelings are wicked intense for this woman, and I can’t imagine how hard it is not being able to talk to anyone about it. I commend you on not f
orcing her hand and telling the husband yourself, and respecting her time frame as you both deal with this extremely difficult situation.

  I understand you love her, and try not to hate me here, but have you looked at this from another angle? Is she open with you about her reasoning for not telling him? Or does she put it off and change the subject whenever you bring it up?

  These are tough questions, but they need to be answered in order for you to know what to do next. If she ignores the questions and denies you the details, and constantly makes you feel bad for asking, then you need to search deep within your heart and ask yourself why you’re staying with someone who is willing to cheat on their partner. I know every situation is different, and no one can know unless they’re in the relationship, but I don’t want you to be taken advantage of.

  If she is open with you about the details, and this is real…then I feel you owe it to yourself to put things on hold until she has managed to tell her partner and file for a divorce. It’s not fair to you to be the person in hiding.

  I hope everyone in this triangle finds closure and happiness.

  Keep me posted.

  In the meantime,

  Stay Sexy. Stay Healthy.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Amber

  “I’m almost starting to worry about you two,” Mr. Griffin said, suddenly appearing in front of the table in the back of the room Dean and I had claimed on the first day of Code Club.

  When did he move from his desk?

  I’d been totally engrossed—not at all seeing the code on my screen, but mentally sketching my next blog post. Dean sat next to me, close enough to touch, not that I would with Mr. Griffin present.

  It had been two months since the concert, since Dean and I had officially become more to each other, and I still wasn’t used to the glow he caused to shine through me.

  “You’re saying you don’t code the minute you’re home?” I asked, smiling as I stretched my arms over my head. I’d accidentally let myself slip to the common-laptop-hunched position who knew how many hours ago.

  Mr. Griffin pursed his lips in the universal touché face.

  “Regardless,” he said, tucking his hands in his pockets. “There are fun things to do outside this classroom.”

  I feigned a gasp. “There are?”

  Dean chuckled. “What are these fun things you speak of?” he asked, diving right in with me.

  Griffin rolled his eyes. “You two are lucky you’re my favorite students. I might have to kick you out and force you to go do normal things. Like eat and sleep and all that stuff.”

  I waved him off. “Sleep is for the weak.”

  Dean nodded, his arms folded over his chest. “I could always eat, though,” he teased.

  “All right,” Griffin said, heading toward the door. “I’m throwing in the towel. You two are younger and that’s an unfair advantage.”

  I rolled my eyes. He was likely only five years older than us, one of the youngest teachers at Wilmont.

  “Have a great night being old,” I teased, and he laughed.

  “Oh, I will,” he said, halfway out the door. “Nice dinner. Netflix. Sleep. It’s all the rage, you know.” He waved before disappearing out the door and down the hallway.

  Two seconds passed before Dean turned, his knee brushing mine as he faced me from his chair. He leaned over and his lips pressed against mine in the sweetest kiss. I sighed between his lips, the deep craving finally attended to.

  “I thought he’d never leave,” Dean said against my mouth.

  I fisted his black T-shirt, tugging him closer. “Yes,” I agreed, swiping my tongue over his.

  The contact set my nerves on fire, a delicious heat that consumed my senses and burned our surroundings to ash.

  Dean’s hands rubbed up and down my spine as he paid great attention to my mouth, nibbling my bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue. I trembled, all at once my lungs so full and yet unable to draw enough breath at the same time.

  “Pixie,” Dean growled my name, the vibrations tickling my chest. “I’ve been thinking about that all day.” He pressed his forehead to mine, breaking our kiss as he slowed us down.

  I closed my eyes, my heart racing as I caught my breath.

  “Me, too,” I admitted.

  “Do you have any idea how hard it is to see you at school all day and not kiss you?” His hands settled on my knee, an electric current tingling all the way up my spine.

  “No,” I said, giggling. “I don’t. I’ve never kissed myself before.”

  “Well you should,” he said, smirking. “It’s the best.”

  “Really?” I brushed my lips over his lightly, so much so it was hardly even a fair tease.

  Another low rumble from his chest, and he claimed my mouth again.

  In the back of my mind, I waited for the panic to steal my current bliss. Panic over being swept away in his kiss, his scent, so lost in the swirl of emotions that we forgot we were at school.

  But it didn’t come.

  Nothing but warm energy and an ache for more.

  This was a kind of trust I’d never experienced before. A connection that spoke volumes from deep within me telling me everything was good, everything was right.

  Dean, my friend, my competition. The boy who pushed me to be better—who sparked a challenge that had helped me heal myself these past months. Heal wounds I thought would taint me for the rest of my life. The dark marks that I was certain would ward off anyone else from ever truly loving me.

  Dean gently pulled away again, a deep breath shuddering from his lips, and it looked like an effort to stay in his chair. “I need to finish one more page addition on the school’s site,” he practically growled.

  “Fun break over,” I said, smiling, my lips still tingling from his kiss.

  “To be continued,” he assured me before turning back to his gear.

  The song “Friends” by Flight of the Conchords blared from the cell on the table at my back, effectively stopping me from returning to the blog work. I swiped the cell to answer Hannah’s call.

  “Hannah,” I said, drawing out her name so she knew she was in trouble. She’d known I was in Code Club tonight and usually waited until I texted her to call me for the recap. She was two hours early.

  “Amber.”

  I instantly stood up, the sob in her voice putting me on high alert.

  “Hannah? What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Where are you?” The questions spewed from my mouth, my eyes widening as if that would help me hear better through her cries.

  “Home. I’m f-fine.” The stuttered hiccup in her voice combated that statement, but I breathed easier knowing she wasn’t in a wreck on the side of the road somewhere—the same phantom road Mom was always hounding me about.

  “Why are you crying? Do I need to come get you?”

  Dean began packing up our gear, his eyes darting to me every few seconds. I loved that he was prepared to leave in a hurry if I gave the word.

  “No,” she whined. “It’s my mom. She totally just went off on me. Kicked Jake out of the house.”

  “Omigod,” I said. “What happened?” Flashes of them getting caught by either one of her parents doused me with ice water. Her parents weren’t insanely strict, but they definitely didn’t believe in sex before marriage, and they certainly wouldn’t stand for it in their house.

  “She found out I’m on birth control.”

  “How?”

  Hannah was the definition of careful. She always did her research and switched up the places she got her pills from if there was even an inkling her mom would discover her. It wasn’t that she wanted to keep things from her parents; she just knew their stance on it. But she had to be safe. She and Jake wanted a family someday, but not now.

  “I was attempting to write in to Ask Me Anything,” Hannah
said, her sobs finally ebbing. I gasped as she continued. “Was going to ask how to finally tell my mom I was on the pill and how I’m about to turn eighteen and I just didn’t want to hide it anymore.” She sniffed. “But I didn’t hear her walk in or when she read over my shoulder. Honestly, she flipped out about the blog for longer than the birth control.”

  “Oh no.” My voice was a whisper.

  Me. My blog. That was the cause of my best friend’s pain.

  “Right? I tried to talk to her, but she was livid…” Her voice trailed off as she succumbed to a fit of sniffles. “She acts all progressive, but then she totally flipped,” she finally continued. “So, I’m grounded. For life. She’ll prob take my phone soon.” She sighed. “Can you call Jake for me? Tell him I’m sorry. Tell him—”

  “I will,” I said. “But he doesn’t blame you. You know he doesn’t.”

  “I know. I’m just mortified. I can’t believe she was so mad at me. You think she’d be happy I was being safe.” She groaned. “Sorry to put all this on you.”

  “It’s what I’m here for.” Guilt churned in my gut. “It’ll be okay, Hannah. It will. Graduation isn’t that far off and then everything will change. She’ll calm down. Just hang in there.” I had to pray that she would come around. See that Hannah and Jake were being so smart. Still, it didn’t stop the acid in my stomach from whirling, from sucking at the bottom of my heart, screaming that this was all my fault.

  “Right.” She sniffed again. “See you at school tomorrow. Unless I’m grounded from that, too.”

  “Love you,” I said, and I hoped she knew I meant it. Even if she didn’t know that I was behind the blog that led to this, I wanted her to feel how sorry I was.

  “Love.” She hung up, and I stared at my cell for a few seconds before glancing at Dean, who stood next to me, both our bags over his shoulder.

  “Are we going to her house?” he asked.

  I shook my head, recounting the conversation to him.

  “Damn,” he said. “That blog is everywhere. Sucks that she got caught writing in to it.”

  “Yeah.” I sighed. “And her mom’s reaction over it?” I bit my lip. “Like…the blog is there to help people not hurt them. Not turn them toward doing bad things. It’s so people don’t feel alone.”