Page 15 of Rope Me In

To “us”? There hasn’t been an “us” for over half a year. And if I’m honest with myself, there hasn’t been an “us” for even longer than that.

I roll over in the twin bed, springs creaking as I press my face into the pillow and scream. Anxious energy crawls in my gut, and I scream again, trying to release some of it. I don’t work until later tonight, so the only natural thing for me to do is doom scroll on social media and listen to my ex rip me to shreds.

There’s also the fact that I can’t stop thinking about the backroom incident with Kade last night. I keep seeing that little upturn of his lips when he found out I was watching him make out with that girl. So embarrassing!

I scream into the pillow again. It’s times like these I wish I wasn’t such an awkward turtle. I wish I was more confident and didn’t care what people thought of me.

I flip over in the creaky bed so I’m staring up at the ceiling. The yellow paint is peeling off around some watermarks I assume came from the roof leaking after some rain, and there’s a chip that creates a tiny crack in the off-white ceiling lamp. I fling my arm over my eyes and try to stop myself from crying.

What the hell am I even doing here? Why did I leave my life for this? Why couldn’t I just deal with my shitty ex and bandmates? If I could’ve only been stronger, at least I’d still be playing fiddle, doing what I love, instead of laying on an old bed staring at a ceiling that needs a fresh coat of paint while questioning my life choices.

But I guess in the end, I have nobody to blame but myself. No matter how much I want to blame Derek and every outside force that influenced me in my journey to this moment,Igot involved with him when my friends were telling me he wasn’t a good guy. I let myself get wrapped up in his attention and lead me away from my goals, even if, at the time, I thought he was only helping me. God, I was and am such an idiot.

A cow moos loudly in the distance, like they’re agreeing with me. Great. Now I’m taking a cow mooing as a sign of my failures.

A knock on the door startles me, and I wipe my tears away.

“Are you in there, Presley?”

I sit up at the soprano voice of the Delgados’ daughter, Lyla, outside. I’ve chatted with her a few times since I’ve moved in, and she’s the first person I met when I arrived in Randall. She made me feel at home from the moment I unloaded my suitcase.

Not wanting to make her wait, I get up off the bed and open the door to find her standing there, wringing her hands nervously. Since she always appears to be in a good mood, her demeanor has my stomach churning.

“Everything okay?”

She tucks a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. “Can I come in for a quick chat?”

I glance behind me at my mess of stuff on the floor. I didn’t have many belongings with me, but what I do have hasn’t been put away yet. Not that this little studio has a lot of space for me to unpack—just a small dresser and closet. But I’m determined to make it work.

“Um, sure. It’s a mess. I’m still unpacking,but—”

She waves me off, stepping around me to come in before I have time to fully open the door. “It’s not a problem. You should see my room!”

I smile a bit and close the door. When I go to shove my hands in my pockets, they slice through air because I forgot I’m wearing leggings. Lyla pretends not to notice, but I can see the amused glint in her eye.

I clear my throat and fold my arms over my T-shirt-clad chest. I should have thought more about what I was wearing before I opened the door. I’m not even wearing a bra. Thankfully, this is when having small boobs is optimal. I don’t have to worry about them flopping in the breeze.

“What’s up?” I ask, unable to wait to hear what she’s going to tell me. By the look on her face and the way she’s still fidgeting on her feet, it can’t be good.

“I’ve got some bad news.”

I worry my bottom lip, wondering what the hell the bad news could be. I’ve barely lived here a week, and I paid her my rent for the full month. And I’ve hardly left the space since I got here besides to work at the bar, so it’s not like I’ve done anything that could label me a bad tenant.

“Okay, hit me.” I cringe at my awkward phrasing.

“I really hate to do this. I just feel so awful.” She takes out a wad of cash from her back pocket and hands it to me. “I have to give you your rent back.”

My eyes bounce from the money to her brown eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I’m so sorry, Presley, but my brother is coming back from Mexico early. He was supposed to be there for another few months, but…well, he had to come home. It’s complicated. I’m so sorry. I feel terrible. My entire family feels terrible. We would never have rented this space to you if I thought it was even a possibility.”

Bile burns my throat. “Really?” I want to smack myself for that response, but I don’t know what else to say. She does seemapologetic, and her body language screams that she’s telling the truth. I didn’t sign a lease, so it’s not like I can take it up with the management company or something. I found this place via a listing on a corkboard at the general store.

“Again, I’m so sorry, Presley. I feel so terrible. We wouldn’t have even put the place up for rent if we knew he’d come back this early. But the house is full with some of my cousins here to help with the fall season and…” She trails off, her eyes shining with tears.

I reach out to squeeze her shoulder. I’m not normally one for comforting people, but I can tell she needs it. And she does, because before I know it, Lyla is throwing her arms around me and squeezing me into a hug.

My entire body stiffens, not used to the feeling.

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