“Oh. Hmm.” There was a pause. “Do you think it’s possible he gave you a fake?”
That thought had occurred to me and I hated it with the burning heat of a thousand suns. That thought sucked. A lot. “Why would he bother? He could have just rolled out of here before I even woke up. It was like five in the morning.”
“Because guys don’t want to seem rude. So they lie. It’s stupid, but it happens. Why did he have to leave so early anyway?”
“He said he had to get home before the nanny woke up.”
“Why?”
This was not how I had pictured this conversation going down. “I don’t know! Maybe she’s judgmental. Maybe it’s her day off. It is Saturday, after all.”
“Or maybe nanny is just another name for girlfriend.”
That had never even entered my head and I was seriously annoyed that Isla had put such a cynical idea in my mind. “I hate you,” I told her. “And I refuse to believe that until I have proof otherwise.”
“Sorry, just trying to consider all possibilities.”
“I don’t like that possibility.”
“I guess it doesn’t matter, because you’ll never see him again.”
“Ew. Harsh.” I tossed my half-eaten donut down on the kitchen counter. “That’s very disappointing.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t sound sorry. You sound like a woman with a boyfriend who thinks I’m being dumb.” I sipped my coffee, feeling very, very sorry for myself.
This wouldn’t be such a big deal if I were rich. But I was the opposite. I’d gotten another email rejection for a job just thirty minutes ago and I wasn’t sure how I was going to pay my rent, let alone the two hundred bucks I still owed for being five days late with February’s rent. I had just wanted this.
“I don’t think you’re dumb. What the hell are you talking about?”
“I just wanted a win,” I said. “Like that it couldn’t just be an accident that he reappeared in my life, on Valentine’s Day of all times. Like it was meant to be a victory for all the bullshit I’ve been going through lately. I’m so broke and yet I just bought a six-pack of donuts because this sucks. I should have never quit the cheerleading squad. It was a nice side income. Damn Dante. He wanted me to quit because of the alleged conflict of interest and I let him talk me into it. I hate six-months-ago-me for being an idiot.”
“Can’t you just audition again?”
“I guess. But I’m old now.” I picked the abandoned donut back up and bit it viciously. “There will be twenty-year-olds trying out.”
“But the cheer coach knows you. Don’t be so negative. That’s not like you, D.”
She was right. It normally wasn’t. “I know. I’ll be fine.” I sank down onto my couch and pulled my knees up to my chin. “I guess I’ve just been lonely and worrying about money a whole hell of a lot.”
“If you need a free meal and some company, come to the restaurant tonight. I don’t have to work, but Sean will be in the kitchen. I’m sure I can talk him into serving us something amazing. He kind of does what I tell him to.”
There was commotion in the background, obviously Sean objecting to her statement. She laughed. “Stop, Sean. I don’t owe you a blowjob for a meal in a restaurant where I’m assistant chef. Your negotiation skills are terrible.”
The banter depressed me. I wanted to banter about blowjobs with a guy. With Brandon. I mentally groaned. “Sure, I’d love that. Just tell me what time.” I did not need to be sitting around my apartment feeling sorry for myself.
“Seven?”
“Perfect. I’ll see you later. I need to get dressed. I’m still in my shower towel.”
We said our goodbyes. I did need to put on real clothes.
But instead, I spent the next thirty minutes trying various combinations of the digits on the envelope Brandon had left.
After getting lots of “who is this?” texts back and a belligerent woman telling me to fuck off, there were only two possible conclusions.
Either I had mysteriously become dyslexic overnight and was misinterpreting the numbers or Brandon had given me a fake.
I didn’t want to believe that. I clung to the hope that it wasn’t true, given that the area code was a Seattle one. Yep. I looked it up.
That’s when I knew I’d gone too far. I was trying to justify and sleuth my way to an explanation.
The reality was it didn’t matter.
I wasn’t going to see Brandon again.
Donut number four basically winked at me seductively. I picked it up and flicked my tongue across the glaze. “It’s just you and me, kid,” I told it. “How sad is this?”
Turns out I was totally wrong.
Brandon wasn’t perfect.
Chapter Six
Six Months Later
“How does it feel to be back in uniform?” Jessica asked me.
“It actually feels really good,” I told her. We were in the tunnel ready to run out onto the field for the first home game of the football season.
When I had second thoughts in the winter about having quit, I had called the cheer coach, but she’d let me know I’d missed auditions for the upcoming season. But then one of the girls blew out her knee and the alternate who had been practicing with them got arrested for driving under the influence, so Coach Teri had called me because I knew all the regular routines. I just needed to quickly learn some new choreography she had created for the season and here I was, back at it.
I needed both the cash and the boost to my confidence.
The last six months had been rough. Worse than rough. An absolute complete and utter disaster. I was barely making it financially and I had destroyed the remnants of my savings account. My rent was almost three months behind and even my general optimism was feeling a little bruised.
Being back with the girls was a huge lift to my mood.
Jessica had been on the team for three years. We had started at the same time and she was easy to get along with. She was also insanely beautiful and talented and looked way better in her uniform than I did. “You look amazing,” I said. The contrast of the white uniform with her dark skin tone was stunning. “I feel like I’ve gained five pounds. My gut looks enormous and I have no tan.”
“Thanks,” she said. “But don’t downplay yourself. You look amazing, too. There is no gut, sorry.”
Liana, who was only nineteen, shook her poms at us and changed the subject. “That new coach is so hot.”
“Shouldn’t you be looking at players, not the coach?” Jessica asked. “A couple of those rookies are like twenty-two years old. That’s your lane, honey.”
“I have a daddy thing,” Liana said with a grin.
“Who’s the new coach?” I asked, curious. I had paid zero attention to what was going on with the team, having been super preoccupied with starvation and the prospect of having to move back in with my parents.
“Are you for real?” Jessica asked. “How can you not know that? He got hired toward the end of last season after we sucked so hard. He’s in his thirties, used to play professionally.”