“Isn’t that a good thing? That you’ve formed a friendship that’s not based on anything sexual?” Confusion caused her face to contort and her brows to furrow. It made her look like a drag queen the way her chest tried to escape that pitiful excuse for a top.
“Yeah, except it’s all rather deceptive, don’t you think? Nothing like a foundation built on a pile of crumbling lies—that’s stable. And let’s not forget, he didn’t kiss me back, V.”
She leaned back on the couch and understanding washed over her features—she finally got it.
“Shit, Gizzy. Maybe he was just caught off guard—I mean, he does think you like chicks. Can’t you just let him believe he reformed you? Brought you to the hetero world because he was such a stud muffin? Guys get off on that shit…it makes them beat their chest and roar like a badass, right?”
“That doesn’t even warrant a response. I’m not propagating lies with more lies.”
“So what are you going to do? Keep pretending you’re not interested in men when he’s around after you laid one on him? Avoid him? Neither of those are good options. You’ll drive yourself insane…and even worse, what if he starts dating someone? He’s an attractive man with a lot of money, Giselle—he’s not going to stay single forever while you figure this out.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious. But it doesn’t appear there’s much to figure out. He’s straight, I’m a woman, even if he thinks I’m a coochie cuddler, and he didn’t engage when I kissed him. Aren’t lesbians fantasies for all men? I managed to fuck up a wet dream.” Nothing was going to be resolved sitting on my couch with Ronnie, so I opted for the next best thing—girl time.
Ronnie stayed with me the rest of the day. We binged on ice cream and Chinese food later that night and watched romantic comedies. I didn’t know how she had gotten free from Trish, but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I had my best friend for a day, and somehow, that made all of this more bearable—even if I wasn’t any closer to a solution.
11
When I didn’t hear from Collier the following day, I assumed I’d completely screwed everything up. My inability to keep my hands to myself and my lips away from his had cost me more than I wanted to consider. Over the last few months, West had become my friend. We talked about anything and everything because everything was safe when there was no possibility for anything that wasn’t platonic. Now, because of a lapse in judgment on a dance floor with too much alcohol in my blood stream, I may have lost that. But my embarrassment was so great that I hadn’t had the courage to reach out to him Saturday and used Ronnie being here as my excuse not to.
The longer I went without talking to him or texting him, the greater my anxiety became. I needed to be the one to reach out, apologize. But I hadn’t had the courage to do it because I was humiliated. And when he contacted me on Sunday, I was frozen with fear and unable to respond.
Collier: You ever going to talk to me again? What happened Friday? I’m lost.
I tapped my nails on the screen, trying to formulate a quick and witty response, but nothing came to mind. And then the longer it sat there unanswered, the more clever my response needed to be. I didn’t want to lose him altogether and knew if I didn’t tread lightly, I risked that.
Me: Of course, silly. Too much alcohol. Sorry.
It wasn’t cute or even honest, but I just wanted to forget it in hopes of salvaging something between us.
Collier: So that’s how you’re going to play this?
Me: I don’t know what you mean?
Collier: You just want to pretend like nothing happened?
Me: It wasn’t a big deal. Momentary lapse of judgment.
Collier: Fine. Then come over this afternoon and hang out by the pool. The guys are coming, and I’ll even let you kick me in the face while we play volleyball.
My nose continued to grow with each text I sent.
Me: Can’t today. I’ve got plans.
Lie. I didn’t have a damn thing to do other than paint my nails and watch them dry.
Collier: Okay. We’ll get together this week then.
Me: Sure thing.
Sure thing. Who the hell says “sure thing”? I tossed my phone onto the couch beside me and reached for my latest nail color. “Got Myself into a Jam-balaya” seemed appropriate to start the week.
Monday, while watching dust gather in the law offices of Stearns and Wilkes, I decided I needed a pick-me-up. Fresh nail polish hadn’t done the trick yesterday, but maybe a new purse would today. The thought of shopping after work gave me something to look forward to, and I started my quest online to pass the time between clients coming in. At four o’clock, I found the perfect Coach bag and called Macy’s to see if they had it in stock. I bounced in my seat in animation when the clerk on the other end of the phone assured me they did and set one aside for me to pick up in an hour. Retail therapy would do me good.
I saved shopping for the really bad times in my life. I lived comfortably, but I couldn’t afford to spend hundreds of dollars regularly on just anything that piqued my interest. So I reserved these trips for the truly necessary times when the only other thing that would do would be seeing a shrink—not going to happen. Plus, this left me with something to show for my hard-earned money…well, maybe not hard-earned, but I’d endured some pretty boring days to get a paycheck.
At five o’clock on the dot, I called over my shoulder to let my boss know I was leaving. It was a rare day that he had actually been in the office, and lucky me, he’d be here all week except Friday. I didn’t usually like it when he was there, but it was nice not to feel so alone today. I’d brushed Ronnie off when she sent me a text to check on me, and I was afraid to reach out to Beck. I needed my friends, but I wasn’t interested in their opinions about West—so shopping it was.
When I arrived in the accessories department, it hadn’t taken me long to find a clerk. The store was practically deserted. She ran off to the back to get one that hadn’t been groped by greasy-handed window shoppers. The girl returned quickly and rang up the purchase. After I had paid her, I continued around the store admiring the jewelry and cute clothes. I wasn’t going to purchase anything else, but sometimes just the feel of the pretty fabrics and the smell of the shoe department comforted me. I didn’t need to buy anything else for my trip to be cathartic. I had time to kill, and there was no better way to do it than perusing the racks.
Just outside the makeup counter, a perfume girl stopped me to try her latest fragrance. I had nothing better to do, so I indulged her, and somehow, struck up a conversation about the astronomical cost of fragrance, and regardless of how pretty the Viktor&Rolf Flowerbomb bottle was, fifty-five dollars seemed excessive just to smell good.
His laughter distracted me from the discussion, and I stopped mid-complaint to glance over my shoulder and see Collier talking to a guy in the men’s tie department. Without thought, I swirled my head around, frantically searching for a place to hide. The perfume girl’s face scrunched in confusion, but I didn’t have time to explain. Before he turned around and saw me, I dashed to the nearest rack of clothes and climbed into the center of the circle to hide inside…like I was five. Ronnie would have a field day with this scene. Thank God she wasn’t here to witness it—or worse, film it. From my vantage point, I could hear him talk and knew he hadn’t left. Thankfully, the woman hadn’t followed me to make sure I didn’t need medical or psychiatric attention. And while I huddled between the dresses, my heart pounded and my anxiety kicked into overdrive. This was insane. I was hiding in a sale rack from someone who was one of my closest friends just days ago, all so I didn’t have to address the elephant in the room.
But even the absurdity of the situation didn’t pry me from my hideout until I no longer heard him, and the toes of a pair of heels poked in under the dresses that acted as my shield. The voice came from above, startling me.
“He’s gone. You can come out now.”
Shocked, I stared up into the perfume lady’s soft gaze of
pity. Yeah, it was pathetic, but she’d been nice enough not to leave me stuck here for hours. My knees wouldn’t have held out to the squat much longer. Hunched over, I parted the wall of fabric to step through and gave her a meek glance. “Thanks. I know it’s pretty pitiful.”
She shrugged and kindly said, “We’ve all been there.”
I straightened my clothes as I stood, feeling foolish when I traced the perimeter of the store for witnesses. I then, less than gracefully, excused myself after thanking her for her help. I almost returned the purse before I left since my experience had been thwarted and thus so had the high I needed to get from it.
Just as I pushed on the heavy, glass doors to leave, my cell rang. I dug it out from under the mounds of crap in my overloaded purse and answered it just before it went to voicemail.
“Hey, V. What’s up?”
“Just wanted to make sure you hadn’t flushed yourself yet.”
“I should have, it would have been far less embarrassing.”
“Somehow I don’t think giving yourself a swirly would rate high on the list of things you’re proud of.”
“No, but neither does hiding from Collier in a ring of clothes inside Macy’s.”
She roared with laughter, and I rolled my eyes. Sometimes I hated my best friend.
“You’re such a bitch, Ronnie. This isn’t funny.”
“This is Comedy Central hysterical. Just talk to him. Has he called?”
“No.” Technically, it wasn’t a lie.
“Really? You haven’t heard from him?”
“I didn’t say that. You asked if he called.”
“Oh, cut the shit, Gizzy. Enough with the semantics. Has he contacted you?”
I filled her in on the brief text exchange we’d had and then gave her details of my game of hide-and-seek, without the seek.
“You have to talk to him. You can’t just avoid him forever. Not unless you want to give up Beck, too.”
She knew I didn’t. I didn’t want to give up Collier, either. I wanted to go back in time and never turn around or press my lips to his. “It’s fine. I’ll figure it out. Just not right this second.”
We talked all the way home. She’d spent the majority of the conversation trying to convince me why I should be honest with him while I argued vehemently against telling him what a Pinocchio I was. She didn’t get it, and I got tired of trying to explain myself. So when I unlocked the door, I made an excuse to get off the phone and spent the rest of the evening miserable on my couch.
Two days later, I heard from Beck for the first time since running out of the bar.
Beck: You should come by this afternoon after work. Hang out by the pool with me. Stella is working late. I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.
It had only been five days, but we hadn’t talked or texted, either. She’d given me space and hadn’t asked any questions, which I appreciated, but I couldn’t avoid her forever. Beck couldn’t help that she shared DNA with Collier.
Me: Probably not such a great idea.
Beck: He’s in Green Grove and has a dinner meeting. There’s no way he’ll be home before ten. You can come by for a couple hours and soak up some sun with me.
Me: I don’t know, Beck.
Beck: Please…
I didn’t want to become a hermit. I hated avoiding my friends because I’d created a whirlpool of deception.
Me: Fine. I’ll run by my house and then come over. But I’m not staying long. I don’t want to chance it.
Beck: Great. See you soon!
Once I got off and swung by my place to get a swimsuit, I pulled up in front of their house. Collier’s car wasn’t in the driveway, and since he wouldn’t be home before I left, I didn’t worry about parking in his spot. I’d put on the cutest swimsuit I had in hopes that feeling good about my appearance would translate into my heart not hurting quite so much. But the sight of his house, the thought of his car not being here, dampened my mood more than it should have.
Beck met me at the door, bouncing on the balls of her feet when she let me in. When she wrapped me in a tight hug, I fought against the tears that threatened to surface. I didn’t come here to wallow in everything Collier, and I refused to do it. Instead, I chose to laugh at her silliness and the way she acted ten years younger than she actually was.
The sun was bright and naturally lightened my mood. The two of us had jumped into the water several times but ended up in lawn chairs relaxing and chatting about nothing. I kept checking the time because the sun gave no indication of just how late it was. Summer in the South allowed the light to linger well after eight at night, and I didn’t want to risk running into him.
The last time I’d glanced at my phone, it was just after seven. I still had plenty of time to chill out with Beck before I needed to head home to miss Collier. Or so I thought until I heard the Porsche pull into the driveway. Even from behind the house, the sound was as distinct as a Harley or a Mustang.
“Fuck. Beck, West is home. How the hell do I get out of here?”
She jolted up from her supine position on her towel to meet my rigid stare. The situation really didn’t call for the panic that had set in my stomach. I was an adult, I should handle this like an adult—meet it head-on—have a conversation. But instead of a mature response, I rushed to grab my stuff. Throwing my towel and clothes into my bag, I jumped up to bolt.
“Giselle, where are you going?”
“Home! Before he sees me here, Beck. Come on, how do I get out?”
I searched for an exit. Going through the house wasn’t a possibility, it was too likely I’d run into him inside. If I tried to make it to the gate on the opposite end of the pool, he’d see me from the kitchen before I made my getaway. My heart raced when I stared at the privacy fence surrounding the yard. Collier couldn’t have a nice wrought iron decorative barrier like normal rich people—he had to have a six-foot, solid-wood screen.
I dragged an outdoor end table up to the fence.
“What are you doing, Giselle?”
“What does it look like?” I shrieked the words in horror and an octave higher than normal. “I’m going over the fence.” In my mind, it was rational, but hindsight is twenty-twenty.
“You can’t scale the fence to avoid my brother. Just go out the side.”
“He might see me,” I wailed and climbed up on the glass tabletop.
“Your car is in the driveway, Giselle. He knows you’re here.”
I put my hands on the ledge of the fence and jumped up, extending my elbows so the top of the wood now scraped against my bare stomach. The pain didn’t register as I swung my foot up and then clumsily climbed over the enclosure with bare feet and in nothing but a string bikini…just as Collier came out the French doors onto the patio.
He called my name as I dropped down onto the other side and took off running. I could hear him shouting for me to wait and knew he’d go back through the house to meet me out front. I searched for my keys as I made my way through the grass, cursing as I stepped on rocks in my haste, and I didn’t even want to think about what had squished between my toes just before I hit the driveway. The Camaro beeped, indicating it was unlocked. I used the remote start button to save myself time and jumped in as fast as I could. The front door swung open right as I put the car in gear and pulled away from Collier’s house, but I didn’t wait to see who it was. I didn’t have to see his chiseled jaw, his broad shoulders, or stunning, green eyes to know it was him.
When my erratic breathing returned to normal, and I’d stopped speeding like a bat out of hell, I found my cell in my bag and called Beck to apologize for bailing on her. My irrational behavior had left splinters in my hands and likely on my stomach where I’d scraped the crap out of it climbing over the wood. As the phone rang on the other end, I glanced down at my belly to the angry, red marks running from side to side and groaned.
She answered on the third ring. “Did you seriously just scale my fence like a ninja?”
I huffed.
“I wouldn’t say ninja. I wasn’t nearly that suave. My stomach and hands are a mess.”
“He isn’t going to bite you. What happened Friday night that you’re avoiding him?”
“He didn’t tell you?” I shouldn’t be surprised, but I was. They were twins but didn’t seem to share all that much with each other. Collier closed himself off to most people, which was why this was all that much more difficult. He’d let me in, and I’d failed him as a friend.
“No. He refuses to talk about it until he’s talked to you. So spill it.”
“What the hell was he doing there? I thought he had a meeting in Green Grove.”
“Apparently, it got canceled. I made the mistake of asking that same question. He reminded me it was his house, and he didn’t answer to me when I asked why he was home so early. So, yeah. Are you going to tell me?”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Beck. I screwed up, but I’ll figure out how to fix it. I promise.”
“You know he knows you were here, right?”
“Sadly, yes.” It would have been hard to miss the banana boat parked in his spot in his driveway in front of his house. I couldn’t say with a hundred percent certainty, but I was almost positive Beck didn’t have another friend with a bright-yellow Camaro.
“The longer you go without talking to him, the harder it will be. He cares a lot about you, Giselle. Give him a chance to let you fix it. Okay?”
I wanted to believe her. I needed to make things right. Not talking to him, not having him around, avoiding him—it was awful, and I hated every minute of it…but not enough to face the firing squad…not yet.
It didn’t take Collier long to start blowing up my phone. He started with calls and then moved on to text messages. I turned off my read message receipts so he wouldn’t know I’d received them—although I’m sure he knew. His increasing frustration became more evident with each message, and I finally put my phone on do not disturb and went to bed.
Girl Crush Page 16
