Page 29 of Forging Chaos

She laughs. “They probably won’t understand either of us. Between the Pittsburgh accent and our lack of refinement…” I stifle a burp and laugh. And then all my feelings settle in alongside the heavy peanut butter in my belly. “Seriously, though,” she says, “You’ll be an hour away. We won’t have part-time jobs in grad school, you know. For one thing, we won’t have work permits…”

That draws a laugh from me, but I suppose she’s right. I willonlybe working on academic labor for the first time ever. Part of my brain immediately tells me I can always seek out under-the-table work in a pub. I entertain brief fantasies about sending money home to my mom so my parents can maybe cover their expenses without me.

I shake that away and quietly fantasize about walking over the Tower Bridge arm in arm with Fern, both of us in yellow raincoats. Because that’s what I imagine people wear in London.

Fern takes my plate from me, sets it on the coffee table, and turns to face me, arms crossed. “Something else is up with you, though. What happened?”

I purse my lips. I guess it does no good to avoid telling her I slept with Odin since she’s basically married to his cousin. I stare at the ceiling and blurt, “I went to the Stag apartment last night after you got on the bus.”

When I look at her again, her eyes are wide and wild, and she’s grinning like a weirdo. “How was it?”

I roll my eyes. “You know it was great.”

“Seriously? It’s never great for you with someone.”

I grab a throw pillow and clutch it against my middle. “Yeah, well, I guess these guys know what they’re doing in that department.”

Fern flops back against the couch next to me again. “They really do. Or Wyatt does…”

“I told you he was the one to give your flower to.”

She whacks my arm. “I told you to stop calling it my flower.” We watch Rory and Lorelai Gilmore try and fail toprepare frozen pizza until Fern adds, “But if it was so good, why do you feel glum?”

“Because I like him. There. I said it.” I sigh. “He’s funny, and he gives me shit in a good way, and, well, he knows how to make me come, and now I’m leaving the freaking country.”

“So?”

“What do you mean so? This is exactly the worst time to get involved with someone, Fern. I should be focused on my future. I need to work double shifts so my mom can watch me be the first person in my family to get a diploma. I don’t have time for romance.”

“Hmm.” We’re quiet again as the Gilmore gals have a similar discussion on the television. Fern points at the screen. “It’s just that…so what if the timing sucks? Why not have a fling and enjoy yourself before you go?”

I consider this because I’ve been considering it since I left Odin’s blue gaze late last night and felt the sting between my legs with each step I took today, reminding me of how he worked with me to find a way to make my body sing.

He wrote back at some point, reminding me he still has my dress and to let him know when I want to grab it from him. I should respond. I should say something about him wanting a booty call…keep things light. I should take Fern’s advice and ignore my emotional connection to him while enjoying the pleasure sensations he knows how to strum up.

Fern continues, saying, “Enjoy it while it lasts. And maybe he’ll visit Wyatt in London, and you can have a vacation booty call this fall.”

Maybe she’s right, and I can keep things light with Odin. Perhaps we can keep playing card games for sexual stakes, and if he gets a different cast, he can take me tubing in a river and make me come on a rock in the woods like a forest fairy. Or maybe all of that is a fantasy because nothing is easy like that. Not for people like me.

When the episode ends, I hug my friend. “I gotta go,” I tellher, standing and stretching. I’m working close tonight at the bar.”

“Slutty tank top,” she says, clicking off the television and walking our plates toward the sink. “Make lots of tips, friend.”

She blows me a kiss as I back out the door to her apartment and make my way to work.

CHAPTER 23

ODIN

Mom

Have dinner with your father and me…

I leaveMom’s text unread all day Friday while my cousin drives me to and from physical therapy. I also leave it unread while I shower for the first time without a boot on my leg. I mean…obviously, I don’t take my phone in the shower. But the whole thing is a huge process I really shouldn’t have tackled alone, and I’m not sure why I don’t respond to my mom or call on any of my roommate-relatives to help me out.

Instead, I bite back moans of pain as I balance my ass on the tile and scrub my itchy-ass leg. I try not to look at the scar and bruising at the incision. I try not to think about what Thora might think if she saw me now, hobbled like an injured bird trying to scour lint from between my toes.

Thora.

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