“Sure I can!” Steph argued. “He’s not married, that’s obvious. So he’s free prey…and I’ll get him. You just watch me, Boston.” Steph looked to Boston, her eyes narrow and threatening. “And in case you’ve got any bright ideas of your own…stay out of my way.”
That was it! Absolutely it! Not because Boston had any designs on Danielle’s brother herself but simply because she could no longer align herself with the likes of Stephanie Crittendon—she didn’t care how pitiful a friendless creature she was. She bit hard into her Tootsie Pop with her molars, crunched up the remains as quickly as possible, plopped the naked lollipop stick into the cupholder of the console, and tried to breathe calmly for a moment—tried to gather her thoughts. She and Steph were almost home, and she was grateful. Yet in the next moment, she realized she’s be trapped with Steph, isolated in their apartment with no reprieve. Boston felt her shoulders begin to droop at the thought. It was too much—she couldn’t endure it any longer—she wouldn’t!
“I don’t have any bright ideas where Vance Nathaniel is concerned…but I do have something else I’ve been wanting to talk to you about,” Boston said.
“What’s that?” Stephanie asked.
Boston glanced to Steph. It was obvious her soon-to-be ex-roommate was unaffected. Steph was probably so relieved to hear Boston couldn’t care less about Danielle’s brother that she failed to think anything else could be of consequence.
“I’m moving out,” Boston said. There—she’d said it! There was a time when Boston would’ve hum-hawed around about saying something she thought might not be well received. But rooming with Steph had hardened her up just enough that she was able to say what she meant to Steph, rather than beating around the bush the way she would normally do with anybody else.
“Moving out?” Steph screeched.
Boston frowned—began to tremble with anxiety—immediately knew regret for having spoken so bluntly. She shouldn’t have been so harsh; she should’ve eased Steph into the revelation. After all, what had Stephanie ever done to deserve such vile treatment at Boston’s hand?
“You can’t move out!” Steph continued to screech. “What will I do? I need you to pay half of the rent! I need you in the apartment! Who’s going to do the dishes and stuff?”
Some of Boston’s guilt subsided. Was that all Steph cared about—the dishes? Boston knew Steph would quickly figure out that if Boston moved out, then Steph might not always be invited to do things with the group of retired elves from Santa’s Workshop and North Pole. Deep inside, Boston had always known there were three reasons Steph clung so desperately to her: to feed off Boston’s once-elf friends, to feed off Boston financially, and to feed off her cheery disposition—not so unlike some slimy, bottom-dwelling parasite. These were harsh thoughts—Boston knew they were—and she didn’t like them. In fact, she scolded herself for even having them. Yet this was another reason she felt she needed to find some space—so she could purge her soul and mind of the unkind, frustrated sort of feelings and thoughts Steph always seemed to provoke within her.
“I just…I just want to try things on my own for a while,” Boston said. “It has nothing to do with you, Steph,” she lied. “I just want to see if I can be entirely self-reliant when it comes to finances and stuff.”
“I had no idea you were so incredibly selfish, Boston!” Steph growled. She glared at Boston and added, “Actually, I did. You don’t think about anybody but you! You don’t care that I’ll have to find a way to make the rent…or find another roommate. What about the car? How do you expect me to get anywhere if you move and take the car?”
“It’s my car, Steph,” Boston reminded, as gently as her vexation would allow. “And this isn’t unusual. I’m just moving into my own place. People do it all the time.”
Steph’s chest rose and fell with the labored breathing of fury. Thus, Boston quickly countered, “You’ve always wanted your own place anyway, Steph. You’re constantly telling me.”
“I only say that when I’m frustrated with your stuff being everywhere,” Steph said.
“My stuff. You mean like my pictures on the wall, the lounge chair that my dad gave me last Christmas that I never get to sit in?” Boston said. She’d lost her cool—and she knew she’d pay for it.
“The lease is up in a month,” Steph growled. “I want you out in two weeks!”
“Steph…look…” Boston began—not because she wanted to stay in the apartment longer than two weeks but because she loathed contention and hard feelings.
“Shut up, Boston!” Steph shouted as Boston pulled into their apartment parking lot. “Shut up and leave me alone for a while! Go find something to do for an hour or two so I can have time to think!”
Furious, Steph got out of the car, slammed the door behind her, and marched off toward the apartment.
Boston sighed—felt nauseated and worn out. She’d been through this drill before. Stephanie would get mad or in a fit of self-pity over something, and Boston would end up at Danielle’s or Halle’s for an hour or two until her psycho roommate calmed down. It was a ridiculous, high-school nightmare she kept reliving every three months or so. At first, Boston felt anxious, worried, and tired. But then she began to feel lighter, as if a huge stone had been hung around her neck and was gradually being lifted. She could endure one more of Stephanie’s fits; she could hang out with Danielle for one more hour. It would certainly be more pleasant than having to deal with Steph.
Shaking her head, unable to fully believe she had such a wound-up nut bag for a roommate, Boston turned the car around and headed back toward Danielle’s. She should’ve had the guts to stand up to Stephanie the month before when Danielle had moved into her bigger apartment. Danielle had tried to get Boston to move in with her, but Boston had still felt too sorry for Stephanie to do it.
As she drove back to Danielle’s, Boston wondered what had finally pushed her over the edge. Why had she finally found the nerve to tell Steph she was moving out? Yet, after several moments of reflection, she decided she’d just reached her limit—finally. She didn’t even know which straw had broken the camel’s back—but whatever the straw had been, she was thankful for it!
Reaching out, she pushed the CD player button. As Taylor Swift sang “Love Story,” Boston smiled. Steph never wanted the music on in the car—especially anything even resembling country music—and Boston suddenly felt quite entirely liberated.
“It’s my freaking car!” Boston exclaimed out loud. “I can listen to whatever the heck I want to listen to!”
To further assert her own power, Boston reached out and set the CD player to repeat. All the way back to Danielle’s, she sang “Love Story” with Taylor Swift—sang at the top of her lungs and with such a feeling of triumphant freedom that she arrived at Danielle’s door smiling, rosy-cheeked, and more hopeful than she’d felt in a long, long time.
“Did you forget something?” Danielle asked as she opened the door.
“Nope!” Boston said, smiling. “I told Stephanie I’m getting my own place, and she told me to leave.” Gesturing quotation marks in the air with her fingers, she added, “‘Go find something to do for an hour or two so I can have time to think,’ is what she said exactly.”
Danielle rolled her eyes and laughed with utter disbelief. “Oh my heck,” she groaned. “That girl is whacked! How did we ever get ourselves mixed up with her?”
“I don’t know,” Boston mumbled. She was beginning to feel bad about being so happy at the prospect of ridding herself of Steph’s constant presence. “I think our initial intentions were to help her…you know…teach her how to make friends or something.”
“Those were your intentions,” Danielle said. “The rest of us just endure her for your sake.”
“Really?” Boston breathed as she stepped into Danielle’s apartment.
“Of course not,” Danielle giggled. “We all felt sorry for her.” Yet Boston wondered if the first reason Danielle offered was more the core truth.
; “Well, I’m glad you finally said something to her,” Danielle said as they sat down at the table. “Do you want some ice cream?” Danielle asked.
Boston smiled. “Sure. Ice cream always makes me feel better.”
Vance was already sitting at the table eating a bowl of ice cream. Boston studied him quickly, feeling sorry for the man. He had no idea what was about to come his way where Stephanie Crittendon was concerned.
“Did you have a nice swim?” Boston asked, still studying him. Mercy—he was handsome! She really couldn’t blame Stephanie for wigging out at the sight of him. “You must be a complete prune. You were gone forever.”
Vance glanced up at her then, and Boston was startled; the way his eyes fixed on her caused her to experience an intense, although pleasant, sort of discomfort.
He shrugged broad shoulders and said, “I didn’t want to mess up you girls’ evening, so I went for a run after the pool.”
“Well, I’m sure that was very refreshing,” Boston said. She felt like an idiot! Very refreshing? What decade did she think she was in? What century?
“So,” he began, “you’re having roommate troubles, huh?”
“Oh, yeah,” Boston sighed, rolling her eyes. “I’ve been having roommate troubles for a while. But…you know…it’s so sticky…getting out of a situation like that. I mean, she doesn’t have her own car. She’ll have to do the dishes.” Boston paused, frowning as she considered something. “I don’t even know if she knows how to do dishes,” she said. “Plus, she doesn’t have any friends. The only people she hangs out with are us. I feel so awful about it really. I feel worse the more I think about it. Maybe I shouldn’t have—”
“So she hangs out with your friends, rides around in your car, and you do the dishes?” Vance asked.
“Pretty much,” Boston admitted.
“Let me ask you this,” he began. “Does she borrow money from you? Does she whip up a good show of tears whenever you disagree with her on something? You said she told you to leave the apartment so she could have time to think?”
“Yeah,” Boston said tentatively. This total stranger sitting next to her at the table was leading up to something, but she didn’t know what.
“She’s a poisonous friend,” Vance said. He picked up the bottle of chocolate syrup to his right and slathered the remaining ice cream in his bowl with a generous helping.
“A poisonous friend?” Boston asked.
“She puts her own wants, needs, feelings before yours…before your friendship. She uses you at every turn and sounds like a manipulative little—” he paused and glanced up at Danielle. Boston saw Danielle arch one eyebrow in warning to her brother, and he finished, “—a manipulative little wench. She’s what I would tag a poisonous friend. And I’m guessing you’re a very empathetic, caring individual who finds it really hard to say no to anybody about anything. Am I right?”
“Maybe,” Boston said, blushing with humiliation. He’d pegged her! Totally nailed her to the wall. How could he possibly have done it? He’d only met her once before.
“I’m pretty familiar with poisonous friends,” he began, “So my guard is always up. That’s why I can spot them right away. What did she growl at you about when you first got here earlier this evening?”
Boston shrugged, trying to feign indifference. “Just something about something.”
“I’d bet you a hundred bucks she was demanding something of you. Am I right?”
Boston nodded, shook her head, and giggled. “Wow! I must be really transparent,” she said.
Danielle set a bowl of vanilla ice cream on the table in front of Boston and smiled. “No, you’re not transparent,” Danielle said. “Vance is just the creepiest people-reader I’ve ever known. Don’t take it too personally. I’ve seen him peg someone’s character by just glancing at them.”
“So you’re judgmental,” Boston teased, reaching for the chocolate syrup and squeezing a generous portion over her ice cream.
Vance chuckled. When he looked at her again, he was smiling, and Boston was astounded that he was even more good-looking when he smiled.
“No. Just…just observant,” he said. He laughed and added, “Besides, just before you came back, Danielle was sitting here telling me everything about all her friends. She’d just finished up about you and your roommate.”
“Danielle!” Boston exclaimed, laughing. “You were letting me think he was, like, psychic or something!”
Danielle laughed too. “Oh, don’t let him fool you. He sort of is!” Danielle said. “Sure, I told him some stuff. But that whole poisonous friend routine…that’s purely Vance Nathaniel and his theories.”
“But I’m right…aren’t I?” he asked Boston.
Boston couldn’t help but smile at him—couldn’t help being momentarily smitten by how handsome and charming he was. “Maybe,” she said.
He chuckled and returned his attention the bowl of ice cream on the table in front of him.
“I’m right,” he mumbled.
“So…you’ve told Steph you’re moving out. Now what?” Danielle asked. She glanced to her brother a moment. “I don’t suppose it would be appropriate to have you move in here with Vance and me.”
“You can share my room,” Vance teased. “There’s only one bed…but I’m all good with it if you—” Danielle slapping him soundly on the top of the head silenced him.
Boston giggled as Vance mouthed, “Ow!” at his sister.
“But when Vance’s house is finished, you can totally move in with me! It’s what I wanted you to do before…remember?” Danielle reminded.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Boston sighed. “I remember. But I have to be out in two weeks.”
“Two weeks? I thought the lease wasn’t up for a month.”
“She told me I have to be out in two weeks,” Boston said.
“You won’t last two weeks,” Vance interjected.
“What do you mean?” Boston asked.
Vance looked to Boston, then to Danielle, then to Boston once more. “You’re kidding me, right?” he asked. “There’s no way you’ll last two weeks with this chick! You’ve offended her pride; she’s ticked off. You’re a girl. Do you really think she can be amicable for two weeks?” He shook his head. “Nope. She’s gonna make your life a living hell.”
“Thanks for the encouragement,” Boston said, stirring her ice cream and chocolate syrup in the bowl. Once it was smooth, she put a heaping spoonful into her mouth and sighed, “Mmm!”
She felt somewhat self-conscious when she noticed both Danielle and Vance watching her—Danielle with apparent amusement, Vance with something akin to befuddled intrigue.
“So I see you’re a stirrer,” he said.
“I am,” Boston admitted.
He didn’t say anything else, just looked to his own bowl of ice cream and continued to eat.
“So…the cute guy at work asked me out today,” Danielle said.
“What?” Boston exclaimed. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell us earlier!”
Danielle shrugged. “I don’t know. I just didn’t want to mention it in front of Steph. You know how she is.”
“Oh, I do!” Boston said, stirring her ice cream some more. “No doubt she would’ve found a way to drop by your office so she could check him out…and then try to steal him. She answered my phone when Logan called the first time today.”
“Oh my heck! I don’t know how you tolerate her!”
But Boston shook her head. “Let’s not talk about it. Worrying about Steph occupies too much of my time anyway. Tell me about the guy at work.”
Danielle’s face brightened. Her smile was so broad Boston wondered if her face might crack clean in half.
“His name is Theo, and he’s so cute! He wears these little bow ties that are so adorable and—” Danielle began.
“Danny!” Vance interrupted. “Are you kidding me? Bow ties?”
“Yeah! He sort of looks like Harrison Ford in the Indiana Jones movies. He even wears
glasses. He’s just the cutest handsome I’ve ever seen!”
Boston giggled as Vance put a hand to his forehead, rubbing his temples with a thumb and index finger.
“What’s the matter? You don’t go in for bow ties?” she teased.
“Not necessarily,” he said. He chuckled a little and added, “I’m just worried.”
“About what?”
“I’ve only been here one day…and with all you girls around—with no guys in my corner—what will I be like after a month of this? My estrogen level must’ve already gone out of sync.”
“Estrogen levels? Why do you say that?” Boston asked, giggling.
“Because right now, as I’m sitting here, the thought is running through my mind that Harrison Ford is kind of cute wearing glasses and a bow tie.”
Boston and Danielle erupted into pealing laughter. They laughed and laughed—then laughed harder! Boston couldn’t catch her breath. Her lower back began to hurt with the force of the laughter. Danielle was out of control, rocking back and forth, gasping for air.
“It’s not funny,” Vance grumbled.
But as Danielle and Boston continued to laugh, Vance growled with disgust. He stood, taking his bowl of ice cream with him as he sauntered over to the couch.
“You’ve got satellite, Danny, right?” he asked, depositing himself on the couch and picking up the remote. “Let’s hope the Military Channel or something with a little testosterone is on.”
Boston’s and Danielle’s laughter was renewed, and Boston stamped her feet on the floor trying to gain control of the painful laughter.
“Well, I’ll say this for you and your friends, Danny. You sure are easily entertained,” Vance said, shaking his head.
Kiss in the Dark Page 3
