I make my way to the door but stop before I open it. When I peek back over my shoulder, he’s watching me.
“Don’t make it out to be more than what it was, rich girl. It was just sex.”
“It was,” I lie.
He smirks as if he knows I’m lying. Grabbing my keys from my handbag, I pull it over my shoulder and turn to leave. The whole drive home, my mind replays every single scene, as if it’s a movie playing rent-free in my head.
Was that a stupid thing to do? I mean, technically, it’s only been a few weeks since I split from Anderson, even though I’d been trying to get rid of him for a lot longer. I was with Anderson for years, so shouldn’t I feel like this is all kinds of wrong?
I know I shouldn’t be moving this fast.
I need to slow things down.
But oh my God, the sex was so good.
Fuck.
On the drive home, I am constantly in my head. The visions of August fucking me won’t leave me. After what feels like only a few seconds, I arrive home and pull into the driveway, jump out of my car, and run inside.
“Rylee.”
I pause at my sister’s voice.
I didn’t even notice she was there when I stepped into our apartment.
She looks me up and down and the tips of her lips turn up into a wide grin. “Where have you been?” She wiggles her eyebrows as if she already knows the answer to the question.
“I need to sleep,” I reply, totally ignoring her question.
“I think I know who made you so tired. Oh, by the way, your Indian came. I guess you got so busy, you forgot about it.” She yells the last part as I walk into my room, shutting the door.
Rhianna has a larger room, but that doesn’t faze me. Living here means everything to me. I can do whatever I want whenever I want and not worry about coming home late or being concerned I may wake my parents.
I’m not sure why I waited so long to move out. It seems I needed a wake-up call, and Anderson has supplied that in bucketloads. I simply had to build the strength to displease my parents without having that fact weigh on my conscience too heavily.
Working in the family business makes this all the harder, but I had to build the fortitude and simply go for it. Now, I breathe easier, knowing I don’t have to deal with their disapproval and criticism of absolutely everything I do. Sure, I hear it at work, but at least I get a breather when I’m home. Living with Rhianna has so many perks, and I finally feel free—free from my parents and free from Anderson—free to live my life any way I want. And the feeling of freedom is so liberating.
“Beckham called. He’s coming to spend the day with you tomorrow.” She bangs on my door as I close my eyes.
He’s been away for the last week at camp, and now he’s back. I’m guessing because I’m not home, he needs to discuss what happened.
I love my brother.
When Rhianna moved out, Beckham and I grew closer.
He trusts me with the secrets he doesn’t tell anyone, and I appreciate him and help where I can.
My phone dings next to me, and when I go to reach for it, I see Anderson’s name flash across the screen.
Goddammit! I turn it off because I do not need him ruining a perfectly good night.
Instead, I go to sleep with dreams of August.
“Wake up.” Banging on my door rouses me from sleep. I somehow manage to slide out of bed and pull it open to see Beckham standing on the other side, dressed in his football jersey and some jeans. I let him in, and we walk back to my bedroom and lie on my bed.
“Mom asked about you today. Asked if I could see you, which she already knew I was going to, and that if you could give her the courtesy of coming home to arrange dinners.”
“Rhianna only has to do one,” I tell him.
“Rhianna isn’t the golden child.”
“I heard that,” Rhianna yells out from her room.
“Like it’s something you didn’t already know,” Beckham yells back. Then he turns around to me. His face is bruised, and his lip is split. I reach out to touch it, but he shakes his head.
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” he says, defensively.
“Beckham.”
“Anderson has been telling people things about you.”
“Of course he has. It’s his M.O. to do that shit. You need to ignore him.”
“He said that you prefer trailer trash over him.” I harumph at his words. “August is better than him anyway, and I don’t even know the dude.”
“He is better,” I say. “But don’t fight over it or me. Leave Anderson to run his mouth, it doesn’t affect me.”
Beckham scratches his head. “You know then?”
“Yes, I know he knocked some skank up.”
He sits on my bed next to me. “Actually, she’s nice. Jacinta’s her name. She stopped me last week and asked about you. Asked for your number, but I didn’t give it to her.”
“Good. I want nothing to do with either of them. I don’t know her, and I don’t want to,” I tell him. “Beckham, please… stay away from Anderson and everything that goes with that man.”
He takes his baseball cap off his head and shakes his hair out. “Mom is mad… you know… that you called it off with him.”
“She can stay mad. I don’t care.”
“You do care, though. You aren’t like Rhianna,” he points out.
Beckham is right, but maybe if I tell myself enough times that I don’t care, it’ll be true.
Probably not, though.
Beckham’s phone starts ringing. He answers it, and I overhear my mother’s voice on the other end.
“Tell your sister to come for dinner, please. I need to talk to her.” Beckham looks at me helplessly, raising his eyebrows, and I take the phone from his hand.
“I have to catch up on work tonight, Mom.”
“It’s just for a bit. Come on… you have to eat. Don’t be silly, Rylee. I’ll see you at six.” She hangs up, and I pass the phone back to Beckham.
“Do you want me to tell Rhi?” he asks. Knowing full well she’ll come and be the bouncer I need between our mother and me.
“No, it’s fine. Now, what do you want to do today?” I ask with a genuine smile.
“Go-karting.”
“Go-karting it is,” I say, standing and pulling on my joggers.
“You came,” my mother states as if she knew I wouldn’t come as we walk inside.
Beckham goes straight past her and up the stairs to his bedroom.
We had a good day. I needed it, and I think he did too.
“You asked me, did you not?”
She nods and steps off to the kitchen, so I follow her. When we get there, I see Anderson’s parents sitting at the table with Anderson as well.
Oh, fuck no.
No. No. NO, I scream in my head.
Really? I glare at my mother, who’s grinning like she’s won some sort of competition as she pulls out a chair for me to sit on. I check around for my father but don’t spot him anywhere.
“I must have come at the wrong time,” I say to my mother with a forced smile. “I see you have company. I’ll come back another time.” I go to leave, but Anderson’s mother calls out to me, “Don’t be silly, Rylee. Sit, we have things to discuss.”