Page 15 of Fifty-Fifty

“Yeah?” Noah replies. He sounds exasperated to be having this conversation, only piquin’ my curiosity.

“How old?” the other voice probes.

Noah shrugs. “I dunno. A few years younger than me, maybe?”

“She hot?”

“Excuse me?” Noah growls.

“Just answer the question.”

Noah pauses before grippin’ the back of his neck and squeezin’ it. I hold my breath as I wait for his answer. I don’t know why it even matters to me. I shouldn’t care what he thinks.

“Yeah.”

The stranger’s bellowing laughter echoes through the quiet yard, and I catch myself chewin’ on my lower lip, unsure how I feel about Noah’s confession.

“Dude. I have the most genius idea ever,” the stranger says through the phone.

“And that is?”

“You pretend you like her to get her to see things from your point of view.”

Noah’s shakin’ his head before his friend is even finished spewin’ his horse shit. “That’s a terrible idea.”

Amen to that!

“And why’s that?” the voice argues.

“Because she’s a human being, Shane. And what happens when she decides to sell the place, and I leave her high and dry?”

Apparently, I don’t hate Noah as much as I thought I did. And it’s nice to know that his asshole friend has a name. Shane. The bane of my existence.

“You won’t be leaving her high and dry. Your grandpa owns the land outright, doesn’t he?”

Noah’s posture slumps. “Yeah.”

“Then that means she’ll have plenty of dough to spend on her next not-boyfriend. It’ll be perfect. Plus, she’s already got a kid. She’ll need the money to get a guy to stick around. Trust me. Why would anyone else want to play daddy?”

I hate him. Whoever this Shane guy is, I hope he gets an STD or something. I would wish an unwanted pregnancy just so he knows what it’s like, but no child deserves an asshole father like that.

And when Noah doesn’t defend me, I kinda start to hate him again, too.

He pauses, like he might actually be considering the idea. The silence is stifling, making me feel all itchy as I wait for his verdict.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he sighs after a few tense seconds of silence. But his rebuttal is weak. He’s waverin’ to the idea. I can see it right before my eyes. The thought sits like a stone in my lower gut, makin’ me sick to my stomach.

“No it’s not,” Shane argues. “It’s a great idea. Plus, you can show her what it’s like to be with a real man instead of another redneck from Georgia, am I right?”

My eyes well with tears.

That bastard.

He knows nothing. Neither of them do.

“Man, I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole. I don’t do messes, and screwing around with her? It wouldn’t end pretty.”

I’ve heard enough. Standin’, I march to the window and slam it closed, makin’ a point of bein’ loud. I don’t look out the glass to see if he ended his call or not. Frankly, I don’t give a damn either way.

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