“I love you,” I said quietly, my heart aching for the crack forming in our relationship. “But I’ve made my choice. I choose Asher.”
Aunt Ciara’s expression hardened, her lips thinning with disapproval. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t have to. I felt her disappointment. It permeated the air, making it dense and oppressive. But then my cell phone blared to life, drowning out our tension. I ignored it, trying to think of how to smooth over the crack forming between us.
“You should probably answer that.” She bit out when it blared again.
“Fine, I’ll be up in my room.” I marched out of the kitchen, desperate to hear Asher’s voice, only to be disappointed when I saw Shona’s name flashing on the screen.
“Hey, this unexpected.”
“A girl can’t call her girlfriend no more?”
“Shona, it isn’t even like that.” Closing the door behind me, I dropped down on the edge of the bed. “How’s it going?”
“How do you think it’s going? Jermaine about damn near lost his shit when he found out you’d left… again.”
“I told him—”
“Don’t matter what you told him. He isn’t going to let this thing go.”
“He has to. I’m done. I’ve moved on. I…” Asher’s infectious smile flashed in my mind. “I’m seeing someone.”
“The white boy JT lookalike?”
“And he plays football,” I teased, trying to lighten the tense mood.
“Damn, girl, it’s like I don’t even know who you are anymore.” Silence lingered over the line.
“He’s a good guy, Shona.”
“Whatever you say. I just don’t want to see you get hurt again,” she let out a heavy sigh. “Listen, I was calling to tell you Jermaine came around asking about you. I didn’t tell him nothing, but I don’t think he’s going to forget you anytime soon.”
“He has to,” I repeated unsure who I was trying to convince more.
Her.
Or myself.
“My life is here now, Shona. He doesn’t know I’m in Rixon. He can’t ever know.”
“Chill, girl. I ain’t going to say nothing. But I can’t guarantee Jesse won’t get involved if he keeps coming around here.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Nah, you’re not. But I get it. You had to get out. Stay safe, girl.”
“You too,” I whispered. Shona hung up and I clutched the phone to my chest. Jermaine wasn’t going away. Even though I’d changed my number and told him we were done, he was still there. Haunting me like a ghost.
I didn’t expect Aunt Ciara and Shona to understand my relationship with Asher, but it sucked that I had to constantly defend it to the people closest to me. Aunt Ciara had her reasons, but Asher wasn’t her ex. He wasn’t going to make false promises only to break my heart and leave me bloody and bruised and alone. And Shona… well, she didn’t get it. Where we came from you didn’t date white boys.
Even though their disapproval didn’t surprise me, a small part of me had hoped they would see things from my perspective. That they would at least try to understand what it was like to be an eighteen-year-old falling headfirst for a guy who made her laugh and feel safe and cherished. A guy who wouldn’t bring pain and danger and heartache to my doorstep. But the louder their warnings got, the quieter my conviction became, the two halves of me at war.
Asher wouldn’t hurt me. I didn’t doubt that.
But trying to live in Asher’s world with him, that might just destroy me.
“Not that one,” I said, cringing at the thought of myself in the floral print dress Felicity was holding up against her body.
“You’re right, it’s too… happy.”
“Happy? Are you saying I’m not happy?”
She glanced over at me, fighting a smirk, as I lounged on her bed, surrounded by clothes. “Do you think you’re happy?”
“I’m happy with Asher. He makes me happy.”
“You are so cute right now. He’d love it.”
“Don’t you dare tell him I was sitting here making googly eyes. I have a rep to protect. A thunderstorm rep, apparently.”
“I didn’t say you were thunder but you’re definitely not sunshine either.”
I poked my tongue out at her and picked the silky dress—the one I’d worn to the Bennets’ party—off the pile. “I could wear this again.”
“No, he’s already seen you in that. Besides, that was parental approved. This is New York. You need something… more.”
“More, right.” I rolled my eyes, letting the soft material flutter through my fingertips, remembering how Asher’s eyes had widened when he saw me in it. The way his breath had hitched. The hunger in his expression.
“Show me what you brought over again.” Flick beckoned at me.
Digging out the bag of worn jeans, denim skirts, shorts, and tank tops, I pulled a face. “This is definitely not going to cut it.”
“It’s okay, we still have time. I must have something in here.” She began sifting through her wardrobe again.
My eyes flicked to the dress Flick planned to wear. It was a deep shade of green, cut low in the front and even lower in the back. Her mom had bought it specially for her, wanting her daughter to look the part for our big trip to New York.
I couldn’t deny jealousy had simmered in my veins when she’d told me. I wasn’t jealous of her, or even the dress, but I couldn’t ever remember a time my mom had taken me shopping. And for as strong as I tried to be, I couldn’t pretend my friend’s sparkly new dress wasn’t a reminder of everything I’d lost.
Everything I never had.
“Okay, I think I’ve got it. Show me those jean shorts again. The dark wash ones.”
“These old things?” I’d breathed life into an old pair of jeans by cutting off the legs, but they hardly screamed New York club vibe.
“I think they might work with this.” She spun around, presenting me with a sequined black halter that was too short to be a dress but long enough my midriff wouldn’t be on display. “The back is cut low, so you won’t be able to wear a bra.” Flick flipped the hanger so I could get a look.
“Not a problem.” I climbed off the bed. “Can I try it on?”
“Uh, yes! I need to see it. Try it with the heeled boots.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind me borrowing all this stuff?”
She gave me a pointed look. “As if you even need to ask.”
“Thank you.” Snatching up the shorts and boots, I disappeared into her small bathroom and stripped out of my clothes and shimmied into the outfit. The girl staring back at me was taller, thanks to the killer heels, but she was also older somehow. Wiser.
Felicity was right. I didn’t look like a picture of happiness, my resting bitch face making my expression too serious. But I saw the subtle change in my eyes. The little sparkle. And I knew the root of it. The girl beyond the door, determined to make me look the part for our big night out. The boy I’d be walking hand in hand into the club with. Rixon was changing me and it wasn’t all bad. In fact, some of it was good.