Page 44 of Vicious Sentiments

Cape rolls his eyes and pushes out his chair. “Let’s go,” he says to Julian. “Before the superstition spreads and I change my mind about dodging around airport assholes.”

My bottom lip falls open as Julian pulls me into a hug and kissesthe top of my head. Cape is giving him a ride? I thought he wanted nothing to do with the business.

“Three days,” Julian says again and untangles himself from me.

“Today, lover boy,” Cape drawls.

I turn to watch them leave the kitchen as Cape throws an arm over Julian’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your girl,” Cape says, throwing a wink over his shoulder, and I’m not sure if I should shudder or melt.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Ithought Marney had been casting me odd glances all afternoon and through dinner, but I couldn’t tell, seeing as how I haven’t known her long. Now there’s a buzz to her that I’m sure I’m not imagining.

She’s cuddled up next to me on the lofty couch while the final scene for the second movie we’ve watched plays out. Dillon is kicked back on the corner chaise section of the couch, and Margo is sitting in a sea of papers in the decorative chair by the window. She keeps checking her phone every five minutes and then sighing.

Cape never came back after dropping Julian off at the airport, and while I’m relieved, I’m also suspicious, waiting for him to pop up around a corner. I would be lying though if I didn’t admit I was a little sad when he didn’t. Which only fuels my new theory that I don’t know how to let go of being dominated by men. And even further supports Cape’s statement that I’m fucked up in the head.

I snuggle up closer to Marney, tucking the blanket she coated over us tightly, trying to get out of my head and enjoy the moment. Margo has the french doors open and the cool sea breeze is the cleanest air I’ve ever breathed. The couch is also the most heavenly thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of curling into. And despite Dillon’s presence, it feels nice to just watch a movie, comfortable with Margo’s motherly vibe and Marney’s innocent enjoyment. It’s like the life I’ve alwaysdreamed of. A mother, a sister, women to feel safe with. No fear of impending abuse, at least if I can trust Julian’s assessment of his brother.

“Hey,” Marney whispers to me.

I look to find her cheeks bunched up and bright, vibrating with barely contained excitement.

“Don’t go to sleep when you get back to your room.” She leans into my ear. “I have an idea.”

I pull back, trying to figure out what she’s getting at.

“It’s going to be so much fun!” She throws a look at Margo but she’s checking her phone again, unaware of Marney’s whispering.

I glance at Dillon but I think he’s dozed off, still in his running gear.

“What is it?” I whisper back and she puts a finger up to her lips.

“Just don’t fall asleep.” She turns back to the TV, quickly pretending to be engrossed.

I frown. I don’t have a clue what idea she could have. Especially one that she would feel the need to be conspiratorial over. Are we going to watch a horror movie? Does Margo let Marney watch horror movies? Stay up late and paint each other’s nails? No. She gets hers done at the salon.

What could it be? I have no experience, not even my own experience, with tween ideas of fun.

By the time I’m in my pajamas and in bed, I’ve thought of a hundred things Marney could be thinking and none of them seem plausible. I find myself sitting up, wide awake even without her hint to not fall asleep, surging with excitement. I’m trying not to get my hopes up because we do have an age difference, but I think I’ve missed out on thirteen-year-old experiences and whatever she has in mind could be fun.

The clock on my phone, which has three texts from Julian checking in on me, says it’s just after eleven. I don’t think Marney has a bedtime,but I know that Dillon could barely keep his eyes open after the movie and resigned to his bed an hour ago. All that running must keep him sleeping deeply. Margo I’m not so sure about, but Marney probably knows her better and wouldn’t get us into trouble.

While I wait, I text Julian.

I miss you.

And then I backspace it. That sounds so cliche. Do I even really miss him? Yes. I miss what it feels like knowing he’s nearby and I didn’t even realize I had grown accustomed to it in our short time.

Waiting for you.

I backspace that too. I’m not good with this. I’ve never had another person that I wasn’t either indifferent to or afraid of. I’ve also never gotten to text before. Maybe I should send him a picture?

The idea sends a thrill through me. Maybe if I can get him bothered enough while he’s away, he won’t make me wait till my birthday to experience him.

I slide through the phone’s different screens trying to find the camera app and when I do, I flinch. It’s faced forward and the angle is awful. I get up and flip a light on and then unbutton two of the pearly beads on the silky pajamas. I tug it to the side and let my shoulder free. I hold the camera above me and frown. It doesn’t look good. God, how do girls do this?

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