‘You can be such a little bitch.’
‘Au revoir.’
“Oh, fuck off,” I mutter. “Now she’s going all French on me.”
I tie my belt, slide my phone into my pocket, and head to the kitchen.
Finally, I feel better.
I make myself a cup of tea, put everything on a tray, and take my peanut butter party to the coffee table in the living room.
Propped against the pillows, with my legs up on the couch, I munch on my sandwich, drink tea, and edit my pictures.
They’re cute. And I’m cute. I have a way of looking like I’m fully clothed even when I’m naked.
I hope he’ll like them.
Sighing, I check the time. The minutes fly away, and soon, it’s ten thirty.
I’m a little worried and anxious about doing anything right now.
So, I snatch up my phone and start toying with the idea of sending him some pictures.
‘You’ll look desperate for sex,’the voice inside my head mutters, and I plop the phone down.
She’s right again.
I hate it when she’s right.
A few more moments pass, and I’m sipping tea and staring at the ceiling when my phone rings.
I jerk up and swing my legs over the edge of the sofa, almost falling to the floor.
Shit.
I flip my phone over, my heart exploding in my chest.
It’s Terry.Terry?
Luckily, she’s not a fan of video calls.
“Hey. One quick thing,” she says. “Danny can take your car to the shop tomorrow morning.”
Danny is our fifty–eight–year–old neighbor, and I suspect he has a crush on my mother.
He’d do anything to score points with her.
“There’s no need to. I’ll take care of it.”
“I know. But he can help you. You have a lot on your plate. I hate seeing you take the bus or depend on other people for a ride.”
A pang of guilt swirls in my chest.
What can I say?That I’m a little liar and have a new car in front of my house? That I’m just being inconsiderate about my old car, which I should fix and sell? Although I can’t just do that now.
“Okay. Let him take it. I’ll pay for his time.”
“No need to,” she says, a smile lining her voice. “Besides, you don’t have money for it.”