Page 74 of Escaping Our Reality

I’m spooning with Luella Margaret Hill. Little Miss Prim and Proper. Bitchy rich girl with the missing sister.

And I’ve never been damn happier.

Chapter 31

ELLA

Three nights. Three nights I’ve slept with Ry.

Actually slept.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s been orgasms. Mind-blowing, earth-shattering orgasms. But no sex.

Ry was right. I’m still not ready. Hell, I still haven’t even seen his cock yet.

Something I plan to remedy real soon.

The warm Spring Break weather has held steady, and the forecast says it will keep for the rest of the week. That means we should be able to keep sleeping at the homestead. He told me that we’ll sleep at the garage or drive back to my house if the temperature dips down too cold. I wasn’t sure how I would like sleeping on a blow-up mattress in a tent in the woods. But it’s nice. Especially since Ry made me pack the goose down comforter from my bed and the lavender sheet spray.

The one thing I miss is my shower. We shower at the body shop. Although, Ry is a neat freak and keeps everything spotless, it’s small. And there’s no ledge for me to hike my leg on when shaving. Yesterday, I cut the back of my knee with my razor when I slipped, and he had to play doctor with salve and a Band-Aid.

Plus, I always pop a breaker with my blow dryer. But Ry knows better than to ask me to go without my fixed hair and makeup. It’s hard to stop that routine. When you’re always told that you have to look perfect, that you have to look completely polished and presentable, it’s a hard habit to break. Momwouldn’t even let Carrie and me run to the grocery store for a loaf of bread without full makeup.

Ry says he doesn’t mind me taking forty-five minutes in the morning to shower and get ready, because at night I take it all off for him. He says it’s like a butterfly breaking free of her cocoon.

Walking back through the garage from the kitchenette, I holler to the boys. “I’m gonna go get us some fresh snacks. There’s not much in the cupboard. I’ll be back soon.”

Ry is hidden underneath the hood of a vehicle, but that statement quickly garners his attention. “Go to the dollar store.”

I pretend to busy myself, grabbing my wristlet. “The gas station is just right here.”

He pulls the white towel from his back pocket, wiping the grease from his hands. His warning is low and deathly serious. “Lulu.”

I flicker my eyes over to the customer waiting in the corner of the garage, playing a game on his phone. Whatever Ry is fixing isn’t going to take long, so the guy opted to just wait. I use the spectator to my advantage. Speed walking into the sunshine, I wave over my shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’s fine.”

He definitely doesn’t like that.

The gas station is crowded today, but it is the lunch hour, so some people are probably just buying fried chicken.

Some people are also probably buying other things.

The doorbell chimes when I walk in, and Trash’s eyes instantly meet mine. He smirks, flashing me a glimpse of his cigarette-stained teeth. He’s seen me over at the garage numerous times since our last run-in, but he has kept his distance. He may be more afraid of Ry than he is of that Trey guy. Although, I doubt it. I grab a small basket by the door and wander the aisles, grabbing some chips that Harlan likes, some protein bars that Ry likes, and some sour candy that I like. Istock up on some bottled water and sodas, pausing when I get to the specialty drink area.

Slayton’s Southern Blackberry Tea stares at me. Mocking me. Mocking my sister.

I’m not sure exactly when I decide to buy drugs. I would like to say it was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but the fact remains, I’ve been thinking about it since Ry gave me the ‘cheat sheet’ for my birthday. Opening the cooler, I grab the bottle, holding it tightly in my hand. I have to wait on two people to check out in front of me. Trash starts laughing when it’s my turn at the counter. I’m not exactly sure what the hell he finds so funny.

I guess it’s me.

“You slumming it again, princess?”

“You’re sorely mistaken if you think keeping company with your brother is in any shape, form, or fashion ‘slumming it’.” The words taste like bitterweed coming out of my mouth.

“Egh, at least it’s kept him out of my hair for a while. He’s always been a buzzkill.” He shrugs. “I keep him around for the ladies. When he turns them down, they seek comfort in the arms of the next best thing.”

It’s pretty obvious he thinks he’s the next best thing.

The woman standing in line behind me snorts. Just like me, she probably considers a bridge troll a better hook-up than Trash.

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