Page 25 of Perfect Boy

“Nope, you’re wide awake, babe. And, yes, I did. Because I was tired of not being able to talk to my sister.” I tell her the truth.

Also, I’ve been so worried about her. My mom brings some seriously debatable people around our house. And my biggest fear is something happening to my Riley.

“It’s all set up. It’s on my plan. But before you ask me, it has social media blocks. So, yeah, no getting on the ’gram. No Facebook. At least not yet.”

“I’d argue with you, but I’m too freaking excited. Thank you, Ryann. Thank you times one million.” She sniffles. “This is the best day of my life.”

“You’re welcome. But you were so excited about the phone that you didn’t even look at the card.” I laugh. “I see how it is.”

The sound of tissue paper being crinkled, followed by silence, floats through her phone to my ear, and suddenly, she squeaks again. “Seriously, Ry! You gave me fifty dollars too? What are you, loaded these days?”

I chuckle. “I have a job. It pays decent.” I sigh. “I wish I could be there with you. But this way, maybe you can go get yourself a treat.”

Normally, I’d worry that Mom didn’t even get her a cake. But since she took her for pizza, maybe she did after all. I know that money and materialistic things aren’t what matter most in life. But when you’re a thirteen-year-old kid and the only one in your class without a cell phone…you feel different. I don’t want that for Riley.

“Thanks, Ry. I miss you so much.”

I wipe a tear that spills down my cheek. “I miss you too, kid. So much. But now, we can talk or text whenever.” A lump of emotion thickens in my throat, and I feel like an absolute failure for leaving my baby sister behind. “Now, go call your friends. I love you. Happiest birthday, Riley.”

“Love you,” she says quickly. “Oh, Ry?”

“Yeah?”

“Mom has been talking about getting your mailing address so that she can send you a letter. She said she’s tried to call you from Randall’s phone. That’s her boyfriend. But she said you don’t answer.” There’s a short pause. “So, she mentioned maybe sending you a letter. Is it…is it okay if I give her your mailing address?”

That familiar anxiety fills my chest, making my head feel funny. My mom has always had that effect on me; even just being in her presence will do it. She could be sickly sweet when she wanted to, but then…cold as ice.

“Uhh…su-sure.” I swallow. “That’s fine. Love you. Go call your friends before it gets any later.”

“Love you!” she singsongs before ending the call.

Even though I should be happy for making her smile, I feel empty and lost. Because I’m over here in the United States of freaking America and my sister’s in Canada, and up until a few minutes ago, I was scared she hadn’t been fed dinner yet.

I want my mom to turn a new leaf, but I don’t trust her. Not one bit. And now, because she’s giving Riley false hope, she’s going to fuck my sister up.

Just like she fucked me up. Making me…this person who can’t trust anyone.

Just as I consider getting into my sweatpants and eating a pint of ice cream solo while watching one of my comfort movies, my phone dings multiple times. I expect all texts to be from Riley. Just one of them is, and it’s a selfie of her blowing me a kiss. The other is from…Watson. Asking me to freaking hang out.

Just Watson: If you’re free, we should go get some pizza.

Just Watson: Or if pizza is too sexy, how about burgers? There’s nothing sexy about eating a burger. Shit is gross.

Just Watson: Fine. McDonald’s?

I stare at the three messages that came in a matter of five minutes. Finally, I type back.

Me: We don’t do dinner. We practice our routine. And we grabbed food. ONCE.

Just Watson: We also got ice cream once. But…who’s counting?

Just Watson: Also, what would you call what we did in the supply closet, Tiny Dancer? We were practicing something. But I’m not sure it was our routine.

I curse my vagina for literally tingling when I read his message. Just the thought alone of what we did the other night turns my brain into mush. I don’t want to go get a meal with this man. But I’m sad. And depressed over the fact that my sister is now a teenager and I can’t be there with her. Sutton is off with Hunter. Poppy is somewhere, probably being bitchy but I love her all the same. And I have no idea where the others are. So…as stupid as it might be, I respond.

Me: Fine. Pick me up in twenty. But just remember, there isn’t and will never be anything between us. And that thing in the closet? That was just a moment of weakness. I’m back to being water.

Just Watson: Yes. I get it. Can’t get to the center. The center meaning your vagina. See you soon.

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