Page 90 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Tripod

“I mean, even the comedies were…” Natalie trails off with a look of disgust.

“The comedies are funny,” I argue. “I was in a couple in high school.” Thinking back, it’s rather surprising that an Oklahoma school was allowed to do a play with crossdressing like The Taming of the Shrew.

“Oh,” Natalie mocks, “I’m so smart, I read Shakespeare.”

“I was in them in high school,” I repeat, but Natalie ignores me.

“Look at me, I read Shakespeare for fun.”

“I’ve never read Shakespeare for fun.”

“Oh, lah-dee-dah.”

I roll my eyes, giving up as Natalie hangs the calendar in its place and rejoins me at the stove.

“Seriously, if one of those boys even looks at you the wrong way, I’m throwing an axe athiminstead of a wooden target.”

I giggle and press a kiss to her cheek.

“Throw one of your crystals at him. That’ll do some damage.”

“Maybe I’ll do a reading for you while you’re out tonight. Figure out if either of them even deserve you.”

“Sounds perfect.” I dash away to hop in the shower, shouting behind me. “Love you!”

“Fuck off!”

I’m frozen to the spot. I’ve turned to stone. I can’t fucking move. My hand is still on the handle of the front door, halfway to pulling it shut, but my eyes are fixed on my windshield. The note isn’t from Janey. I watched her walk past my car, her hands full with her things. It wasn’t there when she left, which means it was put there in broad fucking daylight and our doorbell camera didn’t catch it.

Again.

Attempting to swallow the fear in my throat, I finish closing the door and lock it behind me. It’s been over a week and like an idiot, I let myself start to think that maybe it was just a prank. Something a random teenager had left to scare someone they didn’t even know.

With a trembling hand, I reach out to pick up the folded note. When I open it, I see one word scrawled in all caps. It’s poorly written as if someone–Caleb–used his left hand. His non-dominant hand.

“I’m not his,” I whisper to myself, trying to will the tears pricking my eyes not to gather. “I’m not his,” I repeat.

I’m not his.

I’m not moving again.

I won’t uproot my life again.

Not again.

Scrunching the note tight into a ball, I take it to the trash and drop it in, brushing my hands off when I’m done. They’re still trembling when I slide into the driver’s seat and start the car, ready to leave for Brody’s.

By the time I reach his house, I’m a little calmer. My breathing has returned to normal, my face has regained its color. I’m not sure what Caleb’s endgame is. Is he just trying to scare me? Make me come running back to him for some unknown reason? Does he think that will work? He can’t possibly still want me after all the things he said to me. Can he?

Brody answers the door with a warm smile and my heart lifts.Wow. The bar isn’t just low, it’s embedded in the fucking ground. He’s happy to see me and that excites me? Not to mention that I haven’t even seen this man naked, but I can already feel that burning in my core because I know what he can do with his tongue and his fingers.

“I hope you’re hungry,” he says, allowing me inside.

Yeah, for something other than dinner.

“Of course. I like food,” I giggle before his arms slide around my waist.

I let my head fall to one side as Brody’s lips connect with the tender skin at the base of my neck. At first, his touch is light, almost tickling, but as his lips trail further up, the pressure grows. I hum in response before turning my head and he captures my lips in a kiss filled with need and desperation–a combination I’ve come to expect when his mouth is on mine.

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