by Emma Hart
Especially not when my heart is still stuttering in my chest at my recent closeness to Cain.
I swallow and push off the door, turning back to lock it. That can’t happen again.
Because I’m a little afraid of what he meant when he said I drive him crazy.
FIVE
LIFE TIP #5: A good haircut can change your life. So can online porn and masturbation.
I drop into the chair at Cain’s mom’s salon and tug the towel around my shoulders. I haven’t spoken to him since he turned my power back on two nights ago, and honestly, despite the fact Carly is sitting herself in the chair next to mine, I feel a little lost.
I can’t remember the last time we went over twenty-four hours without even sending a text. I’m seriously trying not to be butthurt over it, but I’m failing miserably. Coming for a haircut was supposed to make me feel better, but I don’t think it’s working.
It’s awkward. Me and Cain. I’m used to the status quo of our relationship—I hate his girlfriends, he’s skeptical of every guy I date, we joke with each other, and then we eat pizza and watch movies.
This new... level... where I want to kiss him all the time when his face is close to mine is unnerving.
Don’t get me wrong. I’ve wanted to kiss the guy as long as I can remember. I’ve loved him for, like, ever, but this needing to kiss him? This temptation? Yeah...that’s new.
The only good thing in this entire situation right now is that his mom isn’t heading up the Nina Groupie Club either.
Mandy Elliott is three things: protective, fierce, and loyal. She has the permanent mindset that nobody will ever be good for any of her three boys, no matter how beautiful or sweet or successful they are. She especially isn’t a fan of Nina, mostly because she embodies the things she hates most. She’s selfish, needy, and dependent on Cain for just about everything, despite the fact they live on opposite sides of town.
Yes, I am aware I’m dependent on Cain, but not like Barbie Boiler is. I’m a damsel in distress. She’s a damsel on her freaking deathbed.
Besides, if I ever get over the guy, I’ll have someone else to flick my breaker for me.
Both literally and figuratively.
I’m aware I sound like a bitch. Truly, I am, and maybe my view of Nina is wildly distorted, but if anyone can look me in the eye and tell me they’ve never thought anything similar about the girlfriend of someone they deeply care about, then they can judge me.
Until then, settle down, Betty, because your opinion isn’t needed.
“Did you change the theme for your party?” Carly asks Mandy as her stylist, Ronnie, grabs her comb.
“Oh my gosh, yes! Didn’t Cain tell you?” Mandy meets my gaze in the mirror, a slight frown marring her bra. “We decided yesterday morning to change to a fifties theme.”
“Oooh, fun!” Carly squeals, clapping her hands.
Ronnie taps the top of her head with her comb. “Sit still, woman. Unless you want three inches off instead of one.”
Carly immediately stills, and Ronnie flashes me a wicked grin. Don’t mess with Carly and her hair.
“No, he didn’t say anything,” I answer Mandy as she works out a knot.
“Hmm.” She tugs extra hard on a particularly stubborn knot.
“Owwww!” I wince, yanking myself away from her. “What was that for?”
“Whatchu do?” Her tone is demanding as she grabs me and sets me back straight in the chair. “Y’all talk every day.”
“Hey!” I say, wrapping my hand around the back of my hair where she caught the knot. “Why are you assuming it was me? Never in the history of our friendship has it been me.”
“She has a point,” Carly adds, taking my corner. “Ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time, it’s Cain who messed up.”
“Thank you.” I’ll ignore that zero-point-zero-one percent of the time thing.
Mandy rolls her eyes and moves my hand so she can get back to cutting. “Now, his bad mood makes sense. Nina came around for dinner last night, started talking about the kids in her class to nobody in particular, and after ten non-stop minutes, Cain snapped at her to give it a rest and went to his apartment.”
Ah, yes—just in case I didn’t mention it before, Cain lives in an apartment above his parents’ garage. Not because he doesn’t have the money to move out, but because the apartment was already there and he wants to build his house, not buy it.
I know. I don’t get it either.
“He yelled at her?” Carly asks, raising her eyebrows. “He never yells at her.”
Mandy shrugs and unclips a section on my hair. “I guess he’s getting fed up of her rabbitin’ on every damn second she can. Lord only knows I am. I had to pray for strength to deal with her before dinner, and I raised three boys born three years apart.”
She has a point. We were teens when they moved to town, and those boys put her through absolute craziness. It was as soon as one left a stage, the next one started it, so on and so forth. I imagine she prayed a hell of a lot during that time, but I’ve never known her to pray for strength to deal with one of their girlfriends.
And Cain’s brothers have dated some floozies.
Then again, Mandy never assumed said floozies would last. Is she praying because she thinks Nina might?
Jesus, she’s not the only one who needs to pray...
“Maybe he’s getting fed up of her shit. I know I’m fed up of hearing about her shit from Brooke,” Carly continues.
“I’m going to sit on your head next time you stay with me,” I warn her. “And I’m going to bounce. Hard.”
Mandy’s laugh as she combs my hair is loud. “You girls,” she chuckles. “Don’t ever change.”
“I don’t plan to,” Carly answers. “But Brooke could use some work.”
“That’s it. I’m farting on your head too.”
Mandy laughs again, cutting through our dumb exchange. “Now, y’all know I don’t like to gossip...”
Ronnie bursts into a conveniently-timed coughing fit, making Mandy whack her with her comb.
“Of course not,” I say to her with a perfectly straight face. “Never have I ever heard you gossip.”
“Don’t you sass me, Brooke Barker,” Mandy says, snipping some of my hair.
“Sorry.”
She rolls her eyes. “I heard on the Barley-vine that Nina is hoping for a little...more...than Cain is ready for.”
Carly and I both frown in sync. Not just because of what she’s saying, but because the Barley-vine—the aptly named gossip train in Barley Cross—isn’t always, shall we say, accurate?
“More?” Carly asks. “Like...a ring?”
“Not like a ring,” Ronnie answers. “A ring. She wants to get engaged, but Cain isn’t ready.”
“Of course he isn’t ready. Cain doesn’t have a girlfriend. He has a limpet.” The words explode out of me before I can say anything.
“As opposed to how wonderfully unattached to him you are,” my best friend shoots back dryly.
Mandy drops my hair so I can turn my chair and kick her. The side of my foot makes contact with Carly’s lower leg, and she yelps.
“You asked for that.” I glare at her. “He’s my best guy friend. I’m supposed to be attached to him. He’s supposed to do all the stuff my eventual future boyfriend will do. It’s in his job description.”
“Or you could just go on a second date with Simon and have him do that stuff.”
“Maybe I don’t want to go on a second date with Simon.”
“Who’s Simon?” Mandy and Ronnie ask us in unison.
Carly launches into an explanation almost identical to the one she gave me a few days ago when she was trying to talk me into the double date.
“You sound like you’re trying to sell a television set that is really reliable but has no satellite or cable capabilities,” I say the second she shuts up. Lord, she could sell shit to a dung beetle if given half a chance.
“Simon is a perfectly nice guy,”
Carly protests.
“And that’s what you say when you think the TV looks good but will perform like crap,” Mandy summarizes. “Carly, girl, you know Brooke will do what she wants, with who she wants, when she wants. And we all know that until she stops being hung up on Cain, no amount of dates—bad or otherwise—are gonna convince her otherwise.”
“I am not hung up on Cain!” My denial comes out a little too shrill.
Mandy raises one eyebrow, catching my gaze in the mirror. “Honey, believe me when I say there’s nothin’ more I’d like than for my son to come to his dang senses about you. Everybody knows you got feelings for him.”
“Everybody except him.” Ronnie snickers.
I huff and slide down in my chair. A quick, sharp tap from Mandy’s comb has me sitting back upright again as the door opens. “Y’all’re so cruel to me. If I could get over that pain in the damn ass, I would.”
“Get over who?” Cain’s soft voice travels through the salon.
My eyes widen, and thanks to the mirror, I know I look like a deer in headlights.
“Her vibrator,” Carly answers without missing a beat. “She dropped it in the bath this morning and it’s dead.”
I peer at Cain in the mirror. His eyebrows are raised so high they’re an inch from disappearing into his hairline, and his lips are twitching up at on side.
“She’s really buzzed off about it,” she adds, literally adding insult to injury.
Mandy chuckles behind me.
“You need to get over your vibrator?” Cain walks around the back of my chair and stands on the opposite side to his mom. “Brooke, that’s dramatic, even for you.”
I open my mouth but nothing comes out. I set my lips into a thin line and drop my gaze as my cheeks flame.
God damn it. See? This is why you don’t fall in love with your best friend. If I weren’t hopelessly and pathetically in love with him, I’d have been able to answer that question completely honestly and we’d all have moved on by now.
“Are you done yet?” I ask Mandy, ignoring Cain. “I don’t feel like taking Carly’s shit anymore today.”
My traitorous bestie laughs.
“Nope.” Mandy grabs the hair dryer. “Have to dry it.”
“I can take it wet.” I make to stand.
Cain grabs my shoulder and pushes me back down into the seat. “You look like a drowned rat. Sit down.”
“Rather look like a drowned rat than a human mothball,” I mutter, taking in his dusty appearance.
He laughs, taking the chair next to me.
I joke, but under all the dirt, it’s really quite unfair how good he looks. Sure, there’s a thin layer of dust covering his clothes and a few specks in his hair, but he really doesn’t look like a human mothball.
I, however, look like Golem in a Wednesdsay Addams wig sitting in front of this mirror.
I’m pretty sure I only look this bad in front of a salon mirror. Either that or I’m deluding myself normally. It’s probably the latter. It’s already well-established I’m a walking disaster.
I want to sit grumpily as Mandy does my hair, but it’s incredibly hard to be grumpy when someone is blow-drying your hair. The warmth from the dryer combined with the strangely satisfying feeling of having your hair lightly tugged as it’s brushed is too soothing to ever be mad.
By the time my hair is dry, I look like a real person again, with shiny, bouncy hair.
I sigh happily, smoothing my hands down my hair. “Honestly, a good haircut is just like sex.”
“You’re sleeping with the wrong guys,” Cain says under his breath, standing up.
“I’m not sleeping with any guys,” I shoot back at him.
He pauses. “At all?”
“At all.”
“This escalated quickly.” Carly stands up and grabs her purse. “Here, Ronnie. Here’s forty bucks. Keep the change. I need to escape the awkward.”
“No!” I say too loudly. “We have to go shopping. I have nothing to wear this weekend and you need to find me something.”
She sighs, leaning on the counter and burying her face into her hand. “Of course I do. Otherwise you’ll end up coming like a twenties flapper and not a fifties pin up.”
“It’s not my fault I’m era-challenged.”
“You’re everything challenged.”
“I beg to differ.”
She quirks an eyebrow. “On what basis?”
“I sold three weeks to Disney World this morning and didn’t kill the screeching twins.” Okay, so the last part is touch and go...
“Brooke, if that’s the best thing you have to say about yourself, Carly’s gonna have to do more than take you shopping.” Mandy laughs, stepping behind the reception counter. She scratches out my name and takes the money I hand her.
“This weekend?” Cain asks, mug of coffee in hand.
“You got nothin’ better to do than drink my coffee, son?” Mandy questions, unamused.
“No,” he answers before turning back to me. “This weekend?”
“Yes,” I say slowly. “Your mom’s birthday party. Remember that? The big five-oh? It’s only been planned for, oh, four months.”
“Ha, ha, ha.” His tone is dry. “Of course I remember. I just didn’t think you were going.”
I frown at him, zipping up my purse. “Why wouldn’t I be going?”
“Because Nina is,” Carly stage-whispers to me.
Slick. Real slick. Idiot.
“Brooke, can I talk to you?” Cain turns to me with his jaw clenched. “Alone?”
I roll my eyes. “Outside.” I push off the counter and walk through the salon to the sound of Carly’s tutting. Yeah, I don’t get it either, but whatever.
I step out onto the pavement into the blistering midday heat, shuddering as the humidity slams into me. Cain follows, shutting the door behind him.
“What do you want?” I meet his gaze. “Considering you haven’t spoken to me for two days.”
He scrubs his hand through his hair, looking sheepish. “What time are you going to Mom’s party?”
“Why? You want me to avoid your girlfriend?”
He doesn’t answer. Ironic how that is the answer I’m looking for.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Cain!” The words explode out of me. “Are you kidding me? You want me to spend less time at your mom’s party just so I don’t run into your girlfriend?”
“Okay,” he says quietly. “It sounds bad when you say it out loud.”
“You mean that sounded good in your head?”
“Maybe.”
A sound that’s similar to a growl escapes from between my lips. “That’s unreal! If your girlfriend doesn’t want to be around me, then that’s fine, because I don’t want to talk to her either.”
He winces. “Brooke...”
“No.” I step toward him and jab my finger against his chest. Both anger and hurt swirls inside of me as the distance closes between us, and I hit him with a hard stare. “Listen to me, Cain. She and I will never get along, and that’s fine, but don’t ever try to push me out again because of her. I was here before she was, and when y’all break up, I’ll still be here. I’m going to be at the party and if that’s awkward for you, tough shit.”
“I wasn’t trying to.” He grabs my shoulders before I can turn away. “Damn it, Brooke,” he says much more softly.
I wriggle out of his hold, then yank at the salon door. “Carly, let’s go! I need a dress for this party that will piss off my mother.”
“Hell yes!” She fist bumps and spins on her heel. “Now you’re talking.”
I grin and step away from the door, letting it fall closed as Carly hugs both Mandy and Ronnie.
“Brooke.” Cain steps in front of me and takes my face in his hands. My skin tingles as his palms connect with my cheeks and his fingertips tease my hair. His green eyes search my face before he settles on meeting my gaze and speaks quietly, “You really think I’d push you out for her?”
My heart thump
s loudly.
I ignore it and bat his hands away, instantly feeling the loss of his touch in a way that’s far too intimate. “Do I? Maybe. I’m not sure I know who you are right now.”
SIX
LIFE TIP #6: Sometimes being cruel to be kind is a real bitch. Oh no, wait. The bitch is you.
“Damn it, damn it, damn it!” I kick the washing machine and a sharp pain shoots through my big toe and along the top of my foot. “Double fucking damn it!” I hiss, leaning back against the kitchen counter and grabbing my foot.
I should have known better than to buy a second-hand machine.
Granted, I also should have known better than to kick the freaking thing too, but alas.
Why did I buy a second hand washing machine? I’ve had it barely a week and it’s already broken. I have good credit—you know, for someone with, like, fifteen thousand dollars of school fees to pay—so I should have just bought one on that.
Now, I can’t wash my panties.
And now my phone is ringing. Fifty bucks says that’s my mother. Why would it be anyone else?
I limp through my apartment and grab my cell from the sofa. Yep. My mom. Wonderful!
“Hi, Mom.”
Holy shit, that was a bit too cheery.
“Hello, Brooke,” she answers suspiciously. “Why aren’t you at work?”
“I finished an hour ago. Why did you call if you thought I’d be working?”
She sniffs. “I was hoping I could leave a message.”
Oh boy. Not as much as I wish you could have.
“Oh, well, sorry to disappoint you.” Again. “Since we’re here, what’s up?” I drop onto the sofa.
“I spoke to Mandy earlier. She said you got your hair cut.”
“Mhmm.”
“She said you and Cain are fighting.”
Damn it, Mandy.
“We’re not fighting,” I say slowly. “I don’t get along with his girlfriend and it makes it awkward.”
“Brooke.” My mother says my name with all the exasperation of dealing with a stubborn two-year-old. “You’ve never been friendly with his girlfriends. You never will be.”
“It’s not my fault he picks hookers and assholes.”
