Page 105 of Still Beating

I shake my head through a sigh, riddled with giddy nerves. “It’s a mess, Lily.” I duck my head, stretching a smile. “Ahotmess.”

“Lord, it’s probablyfire. All that built up sexual tension with life and death situations thrown into the mix?” She releases a slow breath, fanning herself dramatically. “So, are you guys together? Like, official?”

Cue the ice water. “No.No. Of course not… it’s just sex.”

“How can itjustbe sex after all you went through together? There’s no feelings?”

Oh, there’s feelings. A crap ton of feelings. In fact, those feelings are climbing up my chest right now, lodging in my throat. “It’s… really complicated. There’s definitely feelings, but there’s nothing I can do about them. I’m sort of keeping him at arm’s length.”

Lily squints her eyes at me, as if she’s trying to read between the lines. “So, you just bang and bolt?”

“Your vocabulary concerns me,” I joke, avoiding the question.

Avoid, avoid, avoid.

But it’s kind of hard to avoid someone sitting a foot away, staring you down in Taylor Swift socks. “I guess that’s one way to put it,” I relent. “I basically show up on his doorstep a few times a week and we have crazy, amazing, rough sex. Then I skip out before sunrise and avoid him until the next time. In the beginning, he would try talking about it, but I think he’s just accepting our fate at this point.”

I worry my lip between my teeth, sounding like a giant hooker when I word it like that. I’m far from slutty—not that there would be anything wrong with that, really. I enjoy sex, but I’ve only been with three guys prior to Dean. Two of them were serious relationships with men who cheated on me, and then there was Troy Adilman, who was just kind of a drunken, weird, virginity-losing one-night stand. And Dean… well, he’s in his own category.

Lily’s eyes are getting extra squinty, which means she’s still trying to read meandtrying to conjure up some kind of best friend advice that will probably be terrible. “That sounds equally hot and depressing,” she says after a few minutes of consideration. “Does Mandy know?”

My stomach pitches at the sound of Mandy’s name, sending waves of nausea right through me. “She knows we had sex, but not that we’restillhaving sex. I haven’t even spoken to her since the hospital. I… don’t really know what to say.”

“What about your parents? Who’s side are they on?”

I shift uncomfortably on the couch. “They claim to be Team Both Daughters, which I’m sure is code for Team Mandy But Can’t Tell Cora. I’ve only seen them once over the last few weeks and it was an awkward dinner without much conversation.”

“You’ve always thought your parents loved Mandy more than you, but I’ve never gotten that impression and I’ve known you a hell of a long time. They probablyareon both of your sides.”

I try to squash the bitterness that tickles me. “Mandy can do no wrong in their eyes. She was the perfect prom queen with the perfect high school sweetheart, and I’ve always been the stubborn, nerdy kid who refuses to conform. Mandy always got the lavish birthday parties and the over-the-top praise: ‘Congratulations! Mandy learned to tie her shoes even though she’s nine. Oh, my God! Mandy got a B minus on her final exam. Wow! Mandy got her driver’s permit and only crashed once, and it was just a little crash’.” I pause to catch my breath, my resentment bubbling to the surface. “All I ever got was a pat on the back. Now, I’m the stain on the family—the daughter who gets kidnapped by a psychopath, the daughter who sleeps with her sister’s ex, and the daughter who overdoses on sleeping pills.”

Lily cowers away, holding up her hands. “Touched a nerve. Got it.”

“Sorry.” I cringe at my oversharing rant. “It’s the wine talking.”

She holds up the Kleenex box. “That’s why I brought these,” she quips. “And for the record, literally your only flaw has ever been liking N*SYNC over Backstreet Boys. Otherwise, you’re pretty perfect.”

We share a smile, the compliment washing away all of my inner turmoil for the time being. Before I can reply, my phone starts vibrating in my pocket.

It’s a text from Dean.

Dean:I miss you.

Lily yanks my phone away and reads the message, swooning instantly. “Dear God, that’s adorable. Guys only text me when they miss my vagina.”

“I’m sure that’s what he’s implying,” I shrug.

“It’s not.”

Lily starts texting back a reply and I panic, lunging for the phone. “Absolutely not. Give it back.”

She dives from the couch laughing, her thumbs frantically swiping over the keyboard. I chase her around the living room and almost tackle her like a linebacker.

“Okay, okay. Don’t be such a psycho. Here.”

Lily tosses me the phone and I check for damage.

Lily:I need your baloney pony.

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