Page 36 of Unlikely

“We are not obligated to tell her anything about that night,” I say. “I didn’t know you and you didn’t know me. So no, I’m not telling her I fucked her friend, just to tell her.” I keep my voice steady, my eyes fixed on hers, using her own crass words to get my point across. “I’m telling her I fucked her friend because I’d like to do it again.”

12

CLEM

“Earth to Clem.” Remy nudges me.

We’re lazing about at Frankie’s rental, something we all do now that Lennox has moved in with him after his accident. Like Remy said the other night in my bed, our house is quiet now that this place has become the epicenter of our family. But I have to keep telling myself, it doesn’t matter where we congregate, just that we all, at some point, are together.

“Where are you right now?” he asks.

“I’m right here,” I lie, staring at my cell.

Truthfully, I’m on day five of imagining what a repeat with Zara would feel like, her words from the car making meache.But I’m also on day five of giving her complete radio silence because I’m stupid and stubborn and maybe a little bit scared.

She was so willing to tell Raine, that it freaked me out a little. She was so certain and so sure of herself and whatever it is between us, I’d be lying if it didn’t unintentionally make me feel a whole lot less put together. She was my first for so many things, and I need to make sure I’m not confusing the newness of it all with my feelings for her and vice versa.

And then there’s my friendship with Raine. What if she’s mad or disgusted or just doesn’t like it? She’s not going to choose me over her mom, nor would I expect her to, but where would that leave me? I don’t want to lose Raine, but I also don’t want to lose whatever this is with Zara either.

“Seriously, where are you?” Remy repeats.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been sitting here for ten minutes, completely lost in your own head. And every two minutes you’re sighing. Loudly.”

“Well, I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I retort defensively.

“You mean you’ve got Zara on your mind,” he whispers conspiratorially.

I elbow him in the ribs. “Shut up Mr. I Take Photos Now.”

Nobody is paying Remy and me any mind, most of the conversation lately focused around Lennox and his adjustment to life without his hearing. He’s surrounded by his friends Samuel and Rhys, the three of them texting and practicing makeshift signs, while Arlo and Frankie are in the kitchen.

Thoughts of Raine and Zara aside, it’s been a tough couple of weeks for all of us; life changing before my very eyes. I thought as a child of the foster system I was very accustomed to change, adaptable, but I didn’t realize how change hurt differently when you loved and cared about the things that were changing.

When my phone vibrates against my thigh, I expect it to be more messages from our family group chat, but Zara’s name on the screen makes my heart skip a beat.

Surprising me, Remy snatches the cell off my leg. “Jesus, Clem, why haven’t you gotten this screen repaired?” he scolds.

“We’re not all rolling in Benjamin’s, my love,” I quip. “I’ll get it done when I get it done.”

“Let me just buy you a new phone,” he suggests. “Or at the very least get the screen repaired.”

“I’m not in the market for a sugar daddy, and unless something’s changed, I don’t think you bat for my team, but thank you.”

He hands me my cell back. “You’re ridiculous.”

Carefully, I swipe at my screen, Zara’s message on the display almost immediately.

Just checking in. I hope you’re well.

Guilt surges through me. I should’ve never ignored her. Not when a simple conversation could’ve made it all right. Feeling fed up and deflated, I rise up off the couch and glance back at Remy. “Do you want to go?”

“Sure.”

Remy asks no questions, and it’s what I love about him the most. After saying our goodbyes to everyone else, we drive home in the car he told everyone was his friend’s—aka the Range Rover itself.

It’s only a twenty- minute drive from house to house, but it’s enough to make me feel jittery and unsettled. I feel like I’m punishing Zara for something that is completely out of our control. Determined to make it right, I opt out of responding and choose to call her once I’ve showered and climbed into bed.

---