I open my eyes just as she comes into view, a bowl of popcorn tucked into her chest, held there by her forearm, and two glasses of wine occupying her hands.
She catches my glance to the second glass and shrugs. “I probably should have asked if you like wine or not. If you don’t, I’ll happily drink it.”
I sit up, grabbing the drink from her outstretched hand. “Surprisingly, I’ve never had wine.”
“Never? Not even a sip on the holidays at family dinners?”
Fidgeting, I say, “Family dinners weren’t popular around my house.”
“Oh.” I glance over at her, waiting to hear the familiar I’m sorry speech. “How come?”
I try not to let my surprise show. No one’s asked me why before. They apologize and move on or stand around awkwardly until I change the subject.
Now I’m faced with two options: tell her or avoid it.
If I tell her, how much do I want to tell her? All of it? Bits and pieces? Or should I just avoid it? Since we’re having such a nice evening, avoiding it sounds fantastic. Yet there’s something biting at me, encouraging me to tell Haley my secrets…or at least some of them.
I don’t know if I’m ready. Then again, I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.
Don’t lie, Gaige. Don’t brush it off. Give her a simple yet honest answer and move on.
Sounds easy enough.
“I, uh…” I lift my free hand, rubbing at the back of my neck. “Family anything wasn’t a big hit. It took my parents a lot longer to grow up than I’d like to admit. I don’t have many fond memories with them.”
“Ouch. That’s…” Here it comes. “Unfortunate. But, hey, at least you’re alive and kickin’, right? You made it as far as—hey, wait. How old are you?”
“Twenty-four.”
“See? That’s an accomplishment! You made it twenty-four years without getting yourself killed. Kudos!”
Her smile is big, like she’s proud of herself for turning my shit childhood into something positive. I have to admit—it works. My lips mirror hers, stretching into a wide grin.
“Are you always so happy?”
“You forgetting I cried the first night we met?”
“Yeah, but that was a drunk cry. A lot of people do that.”
“Do you?”
“Nah. I don’t ever let myself get that wasted.”
“I usually don’t either, but it was a special occasion.”
She’s not looking at me anymore, her attention strictly on the wine glass in her hands. She swishes the liquid around then raises the glass, tossing back its contents like a shot. I’m impressed with a side of worried.
I say nothing as she sits back, curls her legs under her ass, and points to the popcorn bowl on the table. “Pass?” she asks.
I oblige and take a sip of my white wine. “Shit, that’s sweet.”
“And tastes like heaven, I know. You’re welcome.”
Sitting back, I grab a handful of popcorn myself. “How is it the other night you were drinking vodka sodas and throwing back shots like they were going to run out of tequila, and now you’re drinking this?”
“I knew you were watching me,” she says smugly.
Popcorn falls from my now open mouth. “W-what?”
Turning to me, she shrugs, saying, “I knew you were watching me the other night.”
“How?” I demand.
Another shrug. “I felt it.”
“When?” My ability to speak has been reduced to one-word questions, apparently.
“Before and after we talked.”
“Is that why you came over?”
“Possibly. I also needed a break from my friends. It was easy to see you were interested, so I took the chance.”
“You used me.”
She doesn’t look apologetic as she says, “Yep, but look how great it turned out? You’ve warmed my bed—”
“And floor.”
“—for the several nights now. Now we’re having dinner together and snuggling on the couch. Is it really using you if you get so much out of this?”
I bark out a laugh. “Is that your logic? If the roles were opposite, I’d be a creeper, a jerk, an asshole, and whatever else society would call me. Why is it okay if you’re the one using me?”
“It’s not, Gaige. I never said it was okay. I only offered a positive outlook on it.”
Shaking my head, smiling, I stare at her in shock. “You truly are something else, Haley.”
Her own smile turns…serious, if a smile can be serious. Maybe it’s the way her eyes dim, or the way her body stiffens, but something just shifted around us. The air is thicker, the mood darker, not so carefree.
“A good something?” she asks quietly.
I nod. “A good something.”
Two AM.
We’ve been sitting wrapped around one another for hours. I’ve lost track of what episode we’re on, but the show is growing crazier and crazier. Now that I’m actually paying attention, I love it.
Haley’s curled under my arm, tucked in sideways and propped up on pillows so her legs are slung over mine. She’s practically sitting on my lap at this point, and I don’t mind at all.
I idly run my hand over her legs, playing with the hem of her pants as she grips my shirt tighter, pulling me closer into her while a suspenseful scene plays out in front of us. As intimate as this seems, it doesn’t feel that way. All my earlier thoughts of sex have gone right out the window, floated elsewhere, and we’re firmly planted in a friendly area. I don’t know what changed. Is it how comfortable this feels? That this is the first time I’ve felt normal and relaxed in a long time? Or maybe it’s how easy this is?
Easy. That’s something I haven’t experienced in some time. I’ve always had difficulties to overcome in any relationship I’ve ever had. With Hudson and Tucker, I was on the cusp of changing my life for the better. With my parents, it was not having a relationship for ten years then suddenly being thrust into being a so-called family after they had Gia. With Horton, it was getting past the fact that I tried to break into his house and he caught me. With Harold, it’s simply opening up. My siblings? That’s easy: it was my abandoning them. Mercy? That’s a whole slew of issues. And with any girlfriend I’ve ever had, it was not distancing myself and learning to trust them.
Maybe that’s what it all boils down to—trust. It took me years to trust Hudson and Tuck. I didn’t have an option with Horton. It was either trust him and work for him or he’d turn my ass over to the cops. My family? I have no excuse for what I’ve done to them. Harold? I trust him, always have; I’ve just never trusted him not to give up on me. That’s a whole different kind of faith, the kind of faith I can already feel stirring up in Haley.
Something feels right about her. Pure. Whole. Honest. She seems like the type of person you spill all your secrets to and she smiles and tells you to keep on kicking ass. I barely know her, but true judgment seems like something she rarely passes, which is exactly what I need considering the shit I’ve done.
“No way. Is it really two in the morning already? Crap. I have to be up early tomorrow.”
I glance down at her, her eyes sleepy. “Today.”
“Huh?”
“You have to be up early today.”
She groans and sits up. “Don’t be that guy, Gaige.”
“What guy?”
“The technical guy.”
“It’s just who I am.”
“I may need to re-evaluate our friendship then.”
“Friendship, huh? So we’re friends now?”
“Don’t be daft, Polly. We’re best friends.”
I hold up a finger. “First, did you just say ‘daft’? No one says that. Second, did you just admit we’re best friends? Already? That’s moving kind of fast, Hales.”
“I don’t snuggle with just anyone, Gaige.”
“Good to know.”
“So, yes, now we’re best friends.”
“Besties share secrets.”
/> “Secrets? I don’t think so.” She pushes herself off the couch, grabs the blanket we’ve been snuggled under, and switches off the television. The only light filtering into the room comes from the bathroom light reflecting into the hallway. She shoves her hand out to me. I take it without thought and she pulls me up. “Come on. Bed.”
I follow behind her, still holding her hand as she leads us to her bedroom. “You share one of yours and I’ll share one of mine,” I offer.
She glances back at me, and even in the dark I can see the quick panic that dissolves into nothing. “I can do that, but you go first.”
We enter her bedroom and she flips on the light. My eyes instantly go to the notes I left now tucked firmly into her mirror corners. It’s cute, reminding me of high school when the girls used to all decorate their mirrors with notes and photographs. Still uncertain about how normal this feels, I watch her for any cues. She simply crawls into bed, tucking herself under the blankets just as she’s done every night.
This time, instead of leaving my shirt on, I strip it off, doing everything in my power not to look at her. I don’t want to see her reaction to what she sees. I don’t want to see the concerns or questions in her eyes. Instead, I watch the floor as I make my way to her bed and crawl in on “my” side. I hear her expel a heavy breath as my head hits the pillow.
“Gaige…”
“I got them from falling through a broken window.”
“Oh,” she says so softly I almost don’t hear her. “Is that your secret?”
“No, but the fact that I fell through the window of a house I was breaking into and planning on robbing is.”
She’s quiet. For the first time in my life, I hate the quiet. In my head, I beg her to talk, to tell me what she’s thinking—hell, judge me if she must. Anything. The silence is hurting my ears.
“Did you get caught?”
“I did.”
“Did it hurt?”
“The window? Yeah, it hurt like hell.”
I feel her shake her head against the pillow. “No, getting caught, finding out you weren’t as skilled as you thought you were.”
I do this weird cough/laugh as I choke on my surprise. “That’s the strangest thing anyone’s ever asked me.” I roll over to finally face her. She’s watching me closely, and I see nothing but curiosity in her eyes. “Yes,” I tell her. “It hurt. Back then, it’s all I had going for me. To know I failed at that sucked, but what hurt the most was discovering I had fallen that low.”
“What happened after you fell?”
“I was picked up by a man who helped shape my future, the man whose house I broke into.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously?”
“Irony, huh?”
“I’d say. It sounds like something from a movie.”
“It does. Just skip the scenes where he offers to let me live with him free of rent and tries to adopt me, and instead gives me a job, docking my pay every week to repair the window and pay for the hospital bills. He was a brilliant, kind man. I couldn’t have picked a better house to bust into.” I give a short, humorless laugh. “Wow, never thought I’d say that.”
“You were incredibly lucky.”
I nod. “I know.”
“Do you still work for him?”
“Kind of. I still work at the shop, yes, but the previous owner died a few years ago. My best friend owns the shop now. We met there when we were sixteen and working together as little errand boys.”
“Really? Which shop?”
I hold my breath, knowing I’ll reveal now that I know her sister in some sort of way. I just don’t know how she’ll react. It shouldn’t matter at all, but it could. I still haven’t told Hudson I’ve been sleeping over at his girlfriend’s house the last few nights. I should probably bring that up.
I roll over onto my back, not wanting to look at her as I tell her. Her stucco ceiling provides me a distraction as I count my confidence in the little ridges.
One… Two… Three…
“Want to hear a funny story?” I don’t wait for her to respond before continuing. “I sort of know your sister.”
“Rae?” I nod. “What? How?” She’s up on her elbows now, staring down at me with curiosity.
“Has she told you about the new guy she’s dating?”
“Henry?”
“Huh?”
“Isn’t that his name? Or something like that. It starts with an H at least.”
“Hudson?”
She slaps her forehead. “Duh. That’s it. Hudson. Yeah, she’s told me some. She really likes him.”
“He’s my best friend, and boss.”
She’s quiet, eerily so. Then she’s all noise and movement.
“No, no, no,” she chants she flops onto her back, dramatically throwing an arm over her face. “There’s no way in hell this is happening.”
I peek over at her and frown, taking up the position she abandoned. “It bothers you?”
“Yes! But no.” She winces. “Yes. Is that bad? I just wanted something to myself, you know? This is going to sound weird, but I want to be able to be me with you. Not Rae’s sister, not the schoolteacher—”
“You’re a teacher?” I interject.
A brief glance. “You’re the worst best friend ever.” An eye roll. “Yes, I’m a teacher of sorts. I own a childcare center, from infants to afterschool care up to grade six.” She waves a hand through the air. “Never mind all that. I didn’t want to be the teacher with you. I just wanted to be Nikki.”
“You really use her as your alter ego, huh?”
“Sometimes I have to,” she whispers.
Wow. Haley as a teacher. In a way, it’s surprising. In others, it’s not. It’s clear to see she’s a naturally happy person—usually—but a teacher? From what I can see, she’s messy, eclectic, spunky. I don’t know why, but when I think teacher, I think uptight, boring, clean. Trust me, I know it’s not accurate by any stretch of the imagination, especially since I know teachers have lives outside the classroom, but that doesn’t mean it’s not hard to wrap my head around. Seriously. Think back on one of your teachers. Where do you see them? At home drinking wine, watching American Horror Story, inviting strange men over to their house? No? Yeah, that’s what I thought.
However, based on the light that shines from her, I would bet she has a job where she makes people smile a lot, so what she does for a living fits.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about knowing Rae.”
“How many times have you met her?”
“A few. She’s…interesting.”
“Tell me about it,” she mutters. She rolls over to face me, tucking her hands under her head. “Please don’t judge me based on her.”
I drop down to mirror her pose. “I wouldn’t. And I promise to only think of you as Nikki from now on.”
One side of her mouth twitches. “No, don’t. I like being Haley. I just sometimes wish there were a happy medium.”
If she only knew how much her words are resonating with me right now. I want that, to find a place between my past and my present, between the two versions of me that exist, and then center myself there permanently. I just can’t get a good grasp on where the middle is.
“You can make your own,” I offer.
She stares up at me, her eyes glazed over with unshed tears. “That’s what I’m trying to do with you.”
Reaching over, I brush away the tear that’s beginning to fall. “Good.” She rolls away, turning onto her back again, pulling the blankets up to her chin like she’s attempting to protect herself in some way. “Is that your secret?” I ask.
She shakes her head as she reaches over and turns off the bedside lamp. “No, but we can say it is and call it a night. I’m beat.”
She settles back down and I do the same, getting as comfortable in a still unfamiliar bed as I can. I’m moments away from sleep when I hear Haley call my name.
“Yeah?” I answer sleepily.
“Can we not say a
nything to my sister and your friend?”
I open one eye to find her propped on her elbow again, hovering over me expectantly. “You ashamed of me, Hales?”
I’m teasing her, but she drops her head. My stomach plummets. Did I just hit the nail on the head? My fight-or-flight instincts kick in, wanting to save myself from potentially hearing anything that could tear me down further.
“No,” she says. “I’d just like to have something for me, you know? Something I don’t have to explain or share. Is that okay?”
Is that okay? Do I want to sneak around like this with someone I’m not even sleeping with? Technically you are sleeping together, annoying version of myself says. Yeah? Well technically my ass, I tell it.
I understand where Haley’s coming from, fully. I’m a private guy. I’m not much of a talker, but somehow she’s managed to get more out of me these last few days than Hudson and Tucker could after years of knowing them. But this? I don’t know. I could do it. I have no problems being sneaky. Only…it feels like it cheapens our friendship in a way.
Or does it make it that much sweeter, bind you two closer in a way?
Oh. Good point, annoying Gaige. It does. And I’d like someone to get close to, especially a friend that doesn’t complicate anything going on outside all the other shit I have to deal with right now.
I hear rather than see her lick her lips. “We don’t have to. You can tell anyone you want about the crazy girl who invited you into her bed.
“No,” I tell her. “I’d actually like that. It’d be nice to have someone that’s just there and doesn’t expect something out of me.”
She smiles, and the dark room instantly brightens. “We’re going to be great best friends.”
“I hope so,” I tell her honestly. “I hope so.”
A few hours later, still feeling bleary from the lack of sleep, I quietly make my way around the room, trying not to wake Haley.
“You’re not being as stealthy as usual this morning,” she says groggily. “Your footsteps sound like bricks.”
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