I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on with her. Was Bodie in such bad shape after his accident that she’d had to stay at the hospital with him? Or was she still clinging to yesterday’s claim that she was sick? When Leo and I went to see her yesterday afternoon, she’d seemed fine, if not a little more peculiar than usual.
I wanted to trust her. I still believed she was a good person. My first, second, and third impressions couldn’t be that far off. But there was no doubt she was hiding something.
Then again, unless what she was hiding had to do with the Sharpes, it wasn’t any of my business. She was entitled to her secrets. We all had them.
I considered texting her but ultimately decided against it. At this point, she might believe Tristin, Leo, or Hayle was responsible for her brother’s accident. Maybe all three of them. And it wasn’t something I wanted to try to explain over text message. I’d just have to wait until she showed up for class again.
When I met Petra outside of Carlson Hall after Western Civ, my day finally started looking up. My petite friend was wearing white shorts, a black sweater with a cat’s face embroidered on it, and black ankle boots. The stripe in her shoulder-length blonde hair was lime green today, and she was wearing red-framed glasses that I knew she didn’t actually need.
In spite of myself, I smiled at the sight of her. It wasn’t that she looked silly—her quirky, girlish attire worked for her. She just made me happy.
I’d never had a girlfriend like her. Had never understood what I was missing. Now, I finally got it.
“There you are,” she exclaimed. “I can’t believe you ditched me yesterday.”
“Sorry. It wasn’t planned.”
“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows. “Were you doing something—or someone—interesting?”
I ignored her overt reference to my screwed-up love life. And she didn’t even know the half of it. “Only if you call getting dragged down to the police station interesting.”
Her bright green eyes widened. “I do. I really, really do.”
It didn’t take long to update her on everything that had happened in the last two days. Minus the important parts about Tristin. I hadn’t told her about getting it on with him on his boat yet, and I couldn’t decide if I wanted to.
A month ago, there wouldn’t have even been a question. I was used to keeping my feelings bottled up. I was good at it. If I needed to release emotions, I did so through my drawings. I definitely didn’t spill my secrets with a girlfriend over mochas.
But that’s exactly what I found myself doing.
As soon as we settled into our usual table in the corner at The College Grind, I blurted, “I had sex with Tristin.”
Petra paused with her mug halfway to her mouth and blinked at me. “Come again?”
“That’s what he said.”
She didn’t even smile at my juvenile response. “Seriously. You had sex with Tristin Sharpe?”
She’d kept her voice low, for once. Thank god.
“Yes.”
With a calm I didn’t even know my vivacious friend was capable of, she carefully placed her mug on the table and watched me expectantly. “And?”
“And, what?”
Petra huffed out a sigh. “And, how was it? Where was it? When? I need details.”
“It was incredible. On his boat and then my bed. Saturday afternoon and Monday night.”
She shook her head at me, her hair flying around her face. “It’s like you’ve never told a story before.”
I bit back a smile at her obvious exasperation. “Well, I’ve never told any sex-related stories, so...” I shrugged.
Her jaw dropped. “Never?”
“Nope.” It’s not like I would have had much to tell. Before Tristin, the entirety of my sexual experience could be summed up in one word—uninspiring.
She patted my hand. “It’s okay. I can walk you through it. We’ll start off easy. When you say on his boat, be more specific. Were you in the marina or on open water? In the stateroom or on the deck?”
Stateroom. That was another nautical term for me to tuck away for future use. If Tristin ever invited me on his boat again. Right now, that didn’t seem too likely.
“Open water, and we did the deed on the deck.”
My skin warmed as memories of him laying me down on the sunbathing platform flooded back. Though we’d been anchored in a cove, anyone who happened by could have seen us. Yet, I’d thrown caution to the wind, in more ways than one.
When I allowed my preoccupied stare to connect with Petra’s once again, she was grinning. “Oh, yeah. It was good. I can tell.”
Good didn’t even come close, but...
“It doesn’t matter. It’s never happening again.”
“Um, why the hell not?”
I fiddled with an empty straw wrapper that someone had left on the table. “He’s done with me.”
“Did he say that?”
You can leave me the fuck alone.
I wanted to scrub my mind of not only the words, but also the look Tristin had given me right after saying them. I’d convinced myself that there was actually a heart beating under that thick layer of steel armor. But now I wasn’t so sure.
“Not in those exact words, but I got his drift.”
Petra slid her precious blueberry muffin my way, offering it to me. “Then, fuck him. Any guy who can’t appreciate how awesome you are doesn’t deserve you.”
I broke off a piece of the muffin and popped it in my mouth before pushing the plate back to her. “Spoken like a true bestie.”
Her face broke into a grin that was halfway between ecstatic and smug. “Are you finally admitting that we’re besties?”
My thoughts shifted to Tobias, but only for a second. He was in Kansas, and I was here. Surely, he wouldn’t begrudge me a girlfriend to take his place.
“Well, you did hand over your blueberry muffin. If that’s not friendship, I don’t know what is.”
“I knew it was only a matter of time before you converted.”
“Converted? What is this, the Church of Petra?”
She laughed. “More like the Church of Staying Young and Beautiful Forever. I’d happily worship at that altar every freaking day.”
“You’re nuts.”
Petra proved her newly minted role of bestie by distracting me with tales of her antics from high school for the rest of our break. The girl was my opposite in almost every way. While I’d done my best to remain antisocial, she’d been the life of the party. She’d been all about embracing her youth and freedom before she was even old enough to beg for independence.
But we were alike too. Though she’d yet to reveal much of her past to me, I sensed pain beneath her layers of pluck and exuberance that reminded me of my own heartache.
Also, neither of us cared about popularity. She hadn’t shown up at all of those parties to be seen. She’d done it to have fun and be free.
And that was why we worked as friends. Whether Petra would ever admit it or not, there wasn’t a shallow bone in her body. Whatever altar she was worshipping at, it wasn’t about physical beauty. There was something else behind her need to savor her youth. Hopefully, someday she’d tell me.