Page 51 of A Little Jaded
“Because lasagna’s the big guns,” Finley points out. “Did he let you help?”
I hesitate. “Why do I feel like this is a trick question?”
“Come on. Answer it,” Dylan pushes.
My lips purse, but I give in anyway. “Yes?”
“Damn,” Dylan sits back in her chair and folds her arms. “I’m impressed.”
“Why?”
“Because my brother’s hella controlling. If he let you help, it’s because he wanted to be around you. Wanted to give you a glimpse of his world instead of keeping you at arm's length like he does with…basically everyone.”
“I think you’re reading too much into things,” I decide.
“And I think you aren’t reading into them enough. But don’t worry. We’re the queens of over-dissecting situations, so…maybe keep it in mind,” Ophelia teases. “But first, I wanted to ask if you’re okay with Maverick crashing our party since all the guys are at practice.”
She isn’t looking at Dylan or Finley. She’s only looking at me. And I hate that I think I know why. “Why would I care?”
“Because you were kind of weird around him the last time you two were in the same room,” Finley chimes in.
Pressing my lips together, I stay quiet. I could tell them the truth. I could also deflect. But for some reason, I like these girls. I like their banter. Their chaos. Their inside jokes and innocent teasing. It’s a little pathetic to admit I don’t have many friends who are girls. And the few I collected over the years all kind of fell off the face of the earth after I started dating Drake. Or maybe it was me who fell off the face of the earth. Regardless, it’s nice. Nice joking about riding guys’ dicks and tasing boyfriends by accident. It’s nice opening up and chatting about…anything, really.
Finley pops the bag of Cheetos open and offers it to me. “You can fight it all you want, Rainey, but wewillbe friends one day.”
“And friends talk,” Dylan adds.
“Which means you should, too.” Finley nudges the bag toward me again. “Come on. Give us a chance.”
Reaching into the bag, I take a Cheeto and toss it into my mouth as Finley grins back at me like she just solved a cold case.
“Fine,” I concede. “My family doesn’t know I was dating Drake.” I hesitate. “Okay, they knew I was dating someone, but they didn’t know how serious we were or that we were living together or that he left me on the side of the road in the middle of the night?—”
Finley scoffs. “Yeah, he’s a real gentleman, that one.”
“Exactly,” I tell her. “It’s why I was acting weird around Mav. I didn’t…Idon’twant him to tell them about…everything.”
Ophelia reaches across the island and puts her hand on mine. “I think if Maverick’s learned anything over the pastyear, it’s the understanding that sometimes people keep things close to their chest for a reason, and it isn’t fair to pry until they’re ready.” She leans closer. “But he’s also learned how much easier it is to carry a burden with help than by yourself.”
“Subtle,” Finley notes dryly.
Ophelia ignores her. “I’m just saying…”
“Yeah, I know,” I murmur.
“But for now, what do you say? Do you mind if he comes if he promises not to pry?”
“This isn’t my house.”
“Yeah, but it’s your safe space,” she argues. “At least for a little while, so you definitely have a say in who is and isn’t allowed to walk through those doors.”
A safe space.
I’d laugh if it wasn’t so pathetic.
Since when is a stranger’s house more safe than your own apartment? Oh, I know. When you’re dealing with an asshole like Drake.
What’s worse is knowing I made this bed all on my own. I’m the one who isolated myself. Like a frog in water, like I described to Everett, I took something for granted and replaced it with toxicity, and now I'm the one who boiled to death.