“Hey,” I greet from her doorway. “Mom, wake up. You hungry? I can make you something.”
She lets out a yawn, stretches out her limbs, and shakes her head. “No.”
“Can we talk? I feel like we never talk anymore.”
“What’s there to say, Canny?”
Her words sting. I know she means her marriage and Dad leaving us, but it feels like I’m somehow included when I didn’t do anything but try to hold what was left together.
“For one, how you’re feeling,” I say softly as I approach her bed. “Why you’re so out of it all the time.”
She shrugs. “I’m tired.”
“From what?” I clip out, anger bleeding into my tone. “You don’t do anything but sleep. How could you possibly be tired?”
“You’re such a child,” she snaps back. “You don’t know anything about pain and suffering.”
Her words are a slap in the face. As though me and Carrie haven’t been struggling as well. I want to be pissed, but mostly I’m trying to keep my emotions at bay. My throat aches and my eyes sting with unshed tears.
“I think you should see a doctor—”
“Canyon,” she barks out, sitting upright and pinning me with a severe glare. “That’s enough. I will not have you waltzing in here pretending to be your dad. You are my child. I know what’s best for you, not the other way around. Quite frankly, it’s insulting to be questioned at every turn.”
My lip trembles and I bite down on it hard enough it distracts me from doing something embarrassing like cry. “Mom…”
“If you must know, I’m on medication because of your father. It makes me sleepy, okay?”
“Maybe the doctor can give you something else for it—”
“Jesus Christ, I said that’s enough!”
I flinch at her outburst, feeling like a child who screwed up. “I’ll, uh, make you something to eat.” My voice is hoarse and barely audible.
She flops back down on the bed with an aggravated growl. Slipping from the tension in her room that’s nearly suffocating, I head back to the kitchen to heat her up something to eat. While the soup cooks in the microwave, I text Naomi.
Me: Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning.
The dots move immediately.
Nae: Don’t go under. Need me to stop by? I’m leaving work now.
An ache forms inside my chest. I miss her. Not because we dated for a year but because she became my closest confidant. I’d grown reliant on having her available when my emotions were going haywire.
Me: Please. It’s unlocked. I’ll be upstairs.
After texting that she’ll see me soon, I shove my phone back into my pocket. I grab some crackers, a bottle of water, and the piping hot bowl of soup, carrying it all to Mom’s room. She’s in the bathroom, so I set it down on the end table, leaving to avoid any conversation with her. Upstairs, I hear Carrie’s violin playing in her room, which makes me think of Alis.
Fuck, he’s hot.
His lips on my dick nearly drove me wild. The kiss he gave me in his driveway, though quick and secretive, had me yearning for more.
I make it into my bedroom and pick up the mess I’d left earlier after my meet. Knowing Alis would approve has me smiling. Turning on the television, I find an old favorite episode of Mubōna Ikari and wait for Nae to get here.
Instagram chimes with a notification of a private message from Alis.
Speak of the white-haired devil with the magical tongue and beautiful dick piercing. My elation vanishes at the rudeness of his message.
Alis: I don’t understand your play here.
Me: What play?
Alis: How hot and cold you are! The vague messages!
Last I checked, we were hot. Our kiss made us both hard, based on what I felt rubbing against me, and it was incredibly difficult to part ways.
Me: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Alis: Fuck off, Voss.
Fury swells up inside me like a volcanic wave.
Me: Did you get your period, Wonderland, because I don’t understand why you’re being a moody bitch?
Alis: Don’t text me anymore.
Anymore?
Me: I don’t have your number, loser.
He sends me a bunch of middle finger emojis.
Me: Alis, what the hell is going on?
Alis: You’ve been texting me weird shit all week!
I send him a confused gif because he’s not making any sense.
Alis: Answer when I call.
Me: Okay.
I send him my phone number so he’ll have it and wait for my phone to ring. It doesn’t. I can tell he’s read the message, but he never calls.
Me: Still waiting…
Me: Everything okay?
Me: Did you fall asleep?
Me: Whatever, man. We can talk when you’re done being a douchebag.
I plug my phone in on the charger and toss it on my bedside table. I’m still stewing about his words when Naomi peeks her head into my room.
“Hey, stranger.” She smiles, bright and happily. It’s a reminder I haven’t seen this particular smile in a long time. I really was making her fucking miserable.
“Hey.” I pat the bed beside me. “How was work?”
“Boring but then a friend came to visit, so that passed the time.” She shifts her gaze to her feet where she kicks off her tennis shoes. Then, she pads around the bed and hops onto it beside me. After stretching out and seeing what’s playing on the television, she groans.
“Really?”
“Did you expect anything less?” I roll onto my side so I can look at her.
“Unfortunately, no.” She quirks a black brow at me. “He really cleaned your room? For the record, I’ve never seen it look like this.”
“Neither have I,” I tease, earning a snort of laughter from her. “I should get some credit. I picked up my dirty clothes off the floor before you showed up.”
Her features soften as she studies me. “You didn’t call me to impress me with your clean room. What’s up? Something’s wrong. You’re sad.”
Her words are a punch to the gut. I swallow down the pain from earlier, giving her a clipped nod.
“My life is really fucked up right now,” I admit, sighing. “Great in some ways, but also confusing, and stressful as hell.”
“Your parents or the boy you stalk?”
A laugh bursts out of me. “Both.”
She reaches forward, smoothing my hair back. “Which one is great?”
“Fuck,” I murmur, fighting a grin as I scrub my palm over my face.
“Alister Sommers.” She playfully gasps. “Did you kiss him?”
“Yeah, and some other stuff.”
“Scandalous.”
“You’re not mad. You sound amused.”
“We talked about this. We’re cool, Canyon. Friends, remember?”
Relief floods through me. “We made each other…” I trail off, letting her fill in the blanks. Based on her wide eyes, I’d say she has.
“Wow. So, uh, it’s kinda hot in my head now that I’m picturing it.”
So hot. So very fucking hot.
“Something happened?” she questions. “Now you look troubled again.”
“He confuses me sometimes. One minute he’s into it and the next he’s not. It’s all weird, but before he got weird, it was fucking intense.” I frown at her. “I went over there ready to kick his ass because I was so pissed. But…”