“Hey!” I yelled, ready to defend Drew’s honor until my mother shot me a dark look for interrupting that quite frankly scared the shit out of me.
“Oh, um, well, ahem, I…I guess that could perhaps be interpreted as wrong.”
“Could perhaps?” she repeated, arching an eyebrow at him in such a way that defied the laws of Botox.
My dad threw a desperate glance around as if magically there was someone else here who might have a life raft to throw him.
“Well?” my mother asked, her hands cocked on her hips, making her look like some kind of designer schoolmarm.
My father did a dying fish impersonation for a minute before his eyes narrowed. “How do you know about the money?” he asked me.
“He told me.”
I briefly wondered if the fact that I was back in contact with Drew was news I truly wanted to break to them right then. It was a much stronger tactic to keep the attention focused solely on my dad, but I didn’t have it in me to deny Drew either. It had taken us long enough to get back to where we were, and I wanted to celebrate that we’d finally made it.
I also wanted my dad to know his plan to break us up hadn’t worked. Well, hadn’t worked for long.
His lips pursed. “I should’ve known when he didn’t cash the check right away that he wouldn’t be able to keep up his end of the bargain. A kid like that has no scruples.”
“Are you really bashing someone else’s integrity?”
My dad looked unimpressed by my comment but didn’t dwell on it, probably because he wouldn’t have been able to adequately argue it.
“You honestly think it’s pertinent to continue to spend time with someone who can be so easily persuaded to stay away from you?”
“Can he? Tell me, Dad, when did he cash the check you gave him?”
His face was unreadable except for a slight tic in his jaw, but that tiny muscle movement was enough.
Game, set, match.
Everything he’d been telling himself about who Drew was came down to one irrefutable fact: Drew hadn’t taken the payoff. He’d been offered a better life on a smarmy silver platter, but he hadn’t taken it. That wasn’t who Drew was. And if my dad had taken a single minute to try to get to know him, he would’ve seen that.
But as it was, my dad had only seen a problem, and it was my dad’s MO to, when all else failed, throw money at something until it was resolved. But this issue wouldn’t be resolved, because it wasn’t actually a problem. At least not for me.
As for my parents, they could get the hell over it.
I dug my hand into the pocket of my jeans and withdrew the check, flattening it on the island and pushing it toward him.
“Drew would never cash this. He’s a better man than that.”
My dad cocked an eyebrow. “Then why’d he keep it?”
“Insurance,” I replied calmly. “So you could never claim differently.”
“You do realize you can direct deposit a check from your phone nowadays, don’t you? His having this doesn’t prove he didn’t cash it.”
“That’s true,” I replied, keeping my voice even despite his words throwing me a bit. Because I hadn’t thought of that. Not that it mattered. If Drew said he didn’t cash it, then he didn’t. “But we both know, for different reasons of course, that he didn’t. Don’t we?”
He looked at me for a second before he spoke again. “What reason do you have for believing him?”
I shrugged. “I know him.”
My dad scoffed. “Hardly incontrovertible evidence.”
“Maybe not. But it’s enough for me.”
“And if it’s not enough for us?” my mom asked.
I’d almost forgotten she was here in this detente with my dad, and her words jolted me slightly.
I looked over at her and was relieved to see only concern on her face. She wasn’t making harsh judgments. Well, she probably was, but she wasn’t letting those things make up her mind for her. And while I wasn’t thrilled at having my judgment questioned, I’d take that over someone who made decisions for me without ever consulting me about them.
“Then maybe you should get to know him so it can be.”
My mom nodded slightly before smoothing a hand through her hair. “Did you want to stay for dinner?”
“Not particularly,” I answered.
“That’s probably best. Your father and I have a lot to discuss.” Her tone sounded like she was a CIA agent preparing to torture a confession out of a terrorist, and I felt immense satisfaction at the prospect.
“Then I’ll leave you to it.” I walked toward the door, collecting my things on the way. After I pulled on my coat and opened the door, my dad’s voice stopped me.
“Sophia.”
I turned and looked at him expectantly.
“He’s not living at the apartment, is he?”
“Of course not,” I snapped before slamming the door closed and hurrying to the car.
As I put the car in reverse and pulled out of my parents’ driveway, I assured myself there was no harm in telling one tiny white lie.
Chapter Nineteen
S O P H I A
The coffee table in the sorority house was covered in different polishes, removers, and cotton balls—most of which had been tossed back onto the table after they’d been used to take off whatever polish we’d had on.
Most of the girls were stationed somewhere around the living room on furniture, the floor, or even the edge of the wooden stairs. The night consisted of pizza, soda, and so many ice cream toppings, I was actually concerned I’d need an insulin pump before the night was done.
I wasn’t sure whose idea it’d been to have a middle school–style sleepover, but I was happy someone had come up with it. I hadn’t spent much prolonged time at the house since I’d started helping Drew, and though I did miss him—and for some strange reason, Brody too—it felt good to hang out with the girls. It was a strange paradox where I felt relieved that I didn’t need to be responsible for them but also wished they were both here.
I figured this must be what it felt like to have a girls’ night out when you have kids. Only in my case, my two boys were in their mid-twenties. After finishing with the top coat on my toes, I closed the bottle and put it on the end table next to my chair.
“Emma, can you toss me that wine-colored one?” I asked, pointing at the nail polish that was sitting in front of her.
Emma grabbed the small bottle and tossed it to where I was seated about five feet away.
“Wait, the lid’s not on all the way.” I tried to shield my head with my arms while still trying to catch the bottle, but the result was some of the polish splashing onto my jeans as well as the old recliner I was sitting on, which I cared significantly less about.
“Sorry,” Emma said, cringing. She grabbed a roll of paper towels from the floor and chucked them at me without warning. “Did it get on your clothes?”
I sighed as I tore off a paper towel and poured some nail polish remover onto it.
“Yeah. It’s okay. It’ll probably come out,” I told her, even though I didn’t think it would.
I didn’t want her to feel worse than she already did, and it wasn’t like I didn’t have other pairs or the ability to get them.
Aamee hadn’t even bothered to look up from her nails when it had happened, but once she’d heard about the polish staining my jeans, she took interest.
Craning her neck from her perch at the end of the couch, she said, “You’ll probably have to throw those out.”
“Or we could just tear them where the spot is,” Sam suggested.
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it look like the rip was supposed to be there, though.”
“Take ’em off,” Sam said, already standing in excitement. “I’ve done mine before. My mom thought they looked trashy, so she’d never buy me ripped jeans. I used to do it myself.”
“Didn’t your mom flip out when she saw you cut up the jeans she bought?”
I tried to imagine what my own mother would’ve done if I’d taken scissors to an item of clothing she’d purchased for me, but I decided I didn’t want to ruin a good night with thoughts of my mom and her murderous rage.
“I just told her I bought them with my own money. She had no idea they were the same ones she’d bought.” Sam went into the kitchen and came out with scissors and a razor blade. “They’ll look better than they do now. I promise.”
She made a motion with her hand for me to stand, so I did. I figured the jeans would be ruined because of the stain, and they were currently wet from where I’d tried to scrub it out, so I thought it would at least be more comfortable without them on. And it was a sleepover, so what the hell?
I removed my jeans slowly, careful not to smudge the polish on my toes, which I didn’t think was dry yet, and handed them to Sam. She began immediately, spreading my jeans out on the floor and describing in detail what she was doing as if she were a surgeon instructing a roomful of medical students.
We watched her work, paying more attention to that than we were to painting our nails. A few minutes passed before the doorbell rang.
Aamee jumped up to answer it. She’d already pulled the door open before I remembered I didn’t have any pants on, so I quickly grabbed a blanket that was draped across the couch and pulled it over my lap.
From my chair, I couldn’t see who was at the door, but I recognized the voice immediately.
“Someone order a Nite Bites package?” Brody asked, clearly trying to sound smooth but sounding creepy instead.
Or maybe it just sounded creepy to me, because the rest of the girls seemed to light up at his words. They combed their hair with their fingers—careful not to smudge their nail polish—adjusted their clothing, and gazed at him.
“Come on in.” Aamee pulled the door open farther so Brody could enter.
“That’s a big package you have there,” she said.
Brody put the box down on the ground before replying, “Yeah, I get that a lot.”
Aamee was right beside him, and as he returned himself back to an upright position, he grabbed a handful of her hair and brought it to his nose to smell.
“You smell so good. What is that?”
I was sure the way he looked at her as he inhaled her smell must’ve seemed sexy to her. But to me it was predacious—reminiscent of that scene from Jurassic Park where the raptor gets the scent of the kids hiding in the kitchen and chases them around, snarling and drooling.
“Thanks. I haven’t washed my hair in two days.”
It was, no doubt, a strange response, but Brody just laughed like she’d been kidding. I thought I saw Aamee blush, which made her seem more innocent than usual. She always exuded such dominance, so it was strange to watch how a male could affect her.
Not to mention disgusting. It was a struggle to keep the vomit from rising up my throat, but I managed. Aamee and Brody were clearly into each other, but I didn’t know if the mating ritual was for show or thoroughly authentic.
“What’d you order?” Gina asked, nodding at the box.
“Oh, just some things for upstairs. Body wash, shaving cream, stuff like that.”
“You know you don’t need Nite Bites to deliver things you can easily get from Amazon, right?” I said.
Sure, people included those types of products in their orders, but they were usually combined with some sort of alcohol or local food.
Aamee put her hands on her hips and gave me a glare she’d probably perfected on an elementary school playground over a decade ago. “Amazon doesn’t guarantee hot delivery guys.”
Sighing, I pulled the blanket up higher. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” I asked Brody.
He laughed and ran a hand over his messy hair before shoving both hands in his coat. “I’m going, I’m going. Relax, I have more orders to deliver.” He began walking backward to the door, giving the rest of the room a smile and a “Bye, ladies” on his way out.
“Thanks for bringing me your package,” Aamee said.
Brody winked and replied, “Next time I’ll stay long enough to help you open your box.”
This time I wasn’t sure the vomit would stay down.
D R E W
I’d woken up to an empty apartment for the first time since…well, probably since last semester when I’d first moved into Brody’s place and pretended to be him. It felt strange to hear the silence that came with being the only one home. I had no idea where Brody was, but I knew Sophia had stayed at the sorority house last night, and I wasn’t sure when she planned to be home.
Against my better judgment, I texted her to see. I didn’t want her to think I was trying to rush her or that I was trying to give her some sort of misplaced curfew, but I wanted breakfast and thought if she was planning to be home soon, I would wait for her. Plus, there was something I wanted to ask her, and I thought it might be harder for her to say no if she had food in her mouth.
Taking out my phone as I waited for the coffee to brew, I leaned against the counter. I hadn’t even started typing when I heard the door open, and a weary-eyed Sophia shuffled into the apartment.
She groaned as she crashed onto the couch and pulled the blanket over herself.
“Didn’t get much sleep, huh?”
I took down a mug from the cabinet and pulled out the coffeepot, stopping it mid-brew so I could pour her a cup. I put in a splash of whole milk and a teaspoon of sugar—just how I knew she liked it—and then headed over to the couch.
She was nearly asleep by the time I got there.
“I have coffee,” I practically sang, leaning down to place a soft kiss to her temple.
She let out something that could best be described as a growl of appreciation and slowly pulled herself upright enough to take the cup from my hands and drink a little.
“Thank you,” she said. “It was a long night.”
“Long good or long bad?”
“I’m not sure. Just long, I think. Is Brody still asleep?”
“Nah, I don’t know where he is. If he came home last night, I was already asleep. If he made it home, he was gone again before I came out here.”
“Huh,” Sophia said, looking more thoughtful than I’d expected her to.
“Aww,” I teased. “You’re not worried about your big brother, are you?”
“Of course not,” she replied.
The look of concern on her face made me wonder if she was telling the truth. I knew Brody drove Sophia nuts, and vice versa, but lately I’d been sensing that their sibling rivalry had been losing its fire. Though I’d never explicitly say that to either of them.
I was pouring myself a cup of coffee a few minutes later when Brody walked in. He looked like he’d gotten about as much sleep as Sophia, but he didn’t look nearly as pretty.
“Where were you?” Sophia shot at him.
“Out,” he replied casually as he tossed his keys onto the table by the door and kicked off his sneakers.
“All night?”
“Yes, Mom.” He rolled his eyes at her, and though he was already heading for the kitchen, I was pretty sure Sophia didn’t miss the gesture.
“With who?”
“Jesus, what’s with the interrogation? I didn’t think I needed to let you know what my plans were.” Brody poured way too much cream and sugar in his coffee and tossed the spoon into the sink with a loud clang.
“I was just asking.”
Sophia’s voice had softened a little, and the exchange made me wonder why she was suddenly okay with showing her concern. She usually acted like she didn’t give a shit if Brody might by lying in a gutter somewhere bleeding out from a stab wound, and suddenly she was questioning him about where he was and who he was with.
I had to admit, it confused me too.
Brody drank a little more of his coffee before he set it down and smirked. “’Kay.” Then he headed down the hall and into the bathroom.
Once I heard the shower turn on, I couldn’t help
it. “So are you gonna tell me what that was about?”
Sophia looked like she thought about trying to tell me it was nothing but then thought better of it. I knew her better than a lot of people, probably her brother included, and I knew for sure she wasn’t asking about his night because she was interested in actually hearing about it.
I sat down beside her on the couch and raised my eyebrows. “Out with it.”
“Fine. This is like…God, it’s like the stupidest thing ever.”
“I don’t know. Remember, I once kissed a guy in the middle of campus to keep up the illusion that I was gay.”
Sophia laughed. “Okay, so maybe not as dumb as that. I don’t even know why I care about this, but last night Brody delivered something to Aamee, and they were all lovey-dovey and flirty. He stayed a few minutes and then said he had to make some more deliveries.”
I thought she’d have something more to add, and when she didn’t, I said, “And?”
“And there’s no way he delivered all night.”
“Okay,” I said slowly as I tried to process the importance of what she was saying.
“So where was he?”
“I feel like this is a rhetorical question since I already said I don’t know.”
“It is a rhetorical question. For you. I wish Brody would’ve answered me, though. Why the hell is he acting like he wants to get in Aamee’s pants every time he sees her and then staying over at…who the hell knows where he was?”
My brain was turning over the pieces of the puzzle as Sophia talked, but it took me a while to put them together into any sort of picture.
“So you care about Aamee?”
“No! Of course not.”
“What am I missing?”
She released a sigh that sounded like it stemmed from annoyance. Whether it was because I asked if she cared about Aamee or because Sophia had to explain herself because evidently I was too fucking dumb, I wasn’t sure.
“I don’t care what happens to Aamee, but if Brody’s acting all Netflix and chill when he’s with her and then sliding into some other girl’s”—she gestured wildly—“DMs—”
Truth or Dare You (The Love Game Book 2) Page 14
