Page 70 of Escaping Our Reality

I rub my temples with my fingers, trying to make room in my brain for this explosive new information.

Harlan stands up, tossing the last of his trash. “Welp, I’m gonna head outside and smoke a cigar before the boys get here for poker.” He stops at my chair, flicking me on the shoulder. “Come on, honey, stand up. Give this old man a hug.”

In a zombie-like state, I do as I’m told, quickly resting my chin against Harlan’s chubby shoulder. He smells like grease, deodorant, and sweet chewing tobacco. “Now don’t go feeling sorry for the boy. This was all his choice. It’s how he wants to do things. You have to respect his wishes. Family means more to him than some piece of paper with a degree written on it. Shows a shitload of character in my book.” He pats my head. “And he doesn’t wanna be less in your eyes. You’re the first girl to ever treat him like a real equal. He wants to be the kind of man you deserve.”

I pull away, dabbing at the moisture in my eyes. “I’mthe one who doesn’t deservehim, Harlan.”

True story.

And what the hell am I supposed to do with these feelings? Because how can love uplift you and cripple you at the exact same time?

Chapter 30

CRUTCH

I’m an asshole.

And now, I’m a lunatic asshole.

I thought about it the entire drive back into town. I thought about it the entire time we kissed goodnight, leaning against her car in the school parking lot.

I was halfway home before I turned around.

And now, here I am, banging on her door in the middle of the night, like a straight-up lunatic. But I couldn’t wait another second, let alone wait until a reasonable hour. I want her with me. Ineedher with me. Now.

I hear rustling on the other side of the door. “Open up, Lulu. It’s me.”

She gasps. And doesn’t say anything.

I take a step back. Maybe I’m too close to the door and she can’t see me through the peephole. She should always check the peephole.

But still, the door doesn’t swing wide open.

What the hell?

“Lulu, I hear you. Open the door.”

“No.”

I take another step back and look at the door like it’s a talking spaceship. Like the word ‘no’ just came from the mahogany wood and not her mouth.

I lick my lips, not enjoying the joke. Where’s serious Lulu when you need her? “What do you mean no?”

“I mean no. I’m not letting you in.”

“And just why the hell not?”

“Because.” There’s more noise on the other side of the door, and it sounds like she bumps into a piece of furniture. Her whisper is louder than she intends for it to be. “Ouch, crap.”

My heart starts drumming in my chest at a faster beat. I don’t like this joke. My back starts to sweat, and my shirt instantly sticks to me. “That’s enough. Open the door, I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

“No, Ry. Go home. We can talk tomorrow. It’s late.”

Something’s wrong. Something has to bereallywrong. Is someone in there with her? Is someone hurting her?

My heart is beating so loudly now, I can hear it reverberate against my eardrums. “Lulu, you are starting to freak me out. I’m about to flip my shit, and I swear on all that’s holy, I will break down this damn door to get to you. Open. The. Fucking. Door.”

She grunts. Pissed. Frustrated. Hearing that actually calms me. Pissed Lulu can’t be Scared Lulu. Can’t be a Lulu who’s being held captive by some mass murderer on the other side of the door.

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