Page 26 of Count On Me

Me

Have fun tonight. Be safe. Text me when you get home.

Me

Please?

I throw the phone onto the sofa and groan loudly. Why can’t I just say the fucking words to her. Mama knows how I feel about her. Her mom knows how I feel about her. Fucking Lockheart knows how I feel about her. So why can’t she know without me telling her?

A knock at the door drags me out of the pity party I’m throwing and I know it can only be Jordan.

“Come in, Jordan,” I call out, and watch as he slides into my living room wearing some ridiculous outfit that looks like silk PJs.

“What are you wearing?” His stricken look makes the laughter barrel out of my chest.

“This is Burberry.” He flicks an imaginary piece of dust off his shoulder as I roll my eyes.

“If you say so.”

“What you up to? Apart from not appreciating good clothes when you see them, that is.”

I shake my head and quickly retrieve the phone from the sofa, casually noting the no new messages on my screen. “Nothing. What are you up to?” I ask, distracting myself from worrying about Edie.

“I’m bored. Can’t go out. Coach will tear me a new one. Fancy a house party?” He grins like a twelve-year-old with mischief twinkling in his eyes. I know what he means by house party. He’ll invite a load of wannabe WAGs over, and have a full on orgy in his apartment before midnight. I don’t want to be a part of that.

“Nah, I can’t. I’m meeting up with Lockheart tonight.” Jordan laughs loudly and I frown at him. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. Just didn’t realise you were old as fuck nowadays.” I push his shoulder and tell him to fuck off. He laughs louder and bounces onto his feet and heads toward the door. “If you change your mind, you know where I am,” he shouts as he leaves my apartment.

As I walk into my bedroom to pack some stuff, I shoot a quick text to let Lockheart know I’m heading to his place for the night. I pick up the photo of Edie, knowing I won’t be able to sleep without it next to me, as my phone silently mocks me from the nightstand with no new notifications.

16

EDIE

I read his text again and frown at my phone as Angie places the vodka and cranberry drink in front of me.

“Stop mooning over his text. We’re on a date. Moon over me, Sweetcheeks.” She winks and clicks her tongue which makes me giggle.

“Stop with the dating shit. You’re not my type. Would make life less complicated if you were, to be fair.” I shrug a shoulder and pop the straw into my mouth, savouring the taste of the cranberry and the warmth spreading through me thanks to the Vodka.

“Nah, it doesn’t matter who you’re attracted to. Love comes with pitfalls, unfortunately. It’s how you know it’s the good stuff. If it were easy, we wouldn't want it as much,” Angie tells me and flicks her hair behind her shoulder.

“So what do I do now, oh wise one? Ignore him?” I ask as she rolls her eyes at someone behind me. I turn and see a bearded guy smiling at her. “If you want to go and talk to him, you can. I don’t mind.” I jump as she laughs loudly at my suggestion.

“As if, babe. Have I taught you nothing? What’s the golden rule of being out together?”

“We enter together and leave together. No sister left behind.” I recite back to her what she’s drummed into me since we first met at university and I’m met with a triumphant nod.

“Besides, he isn't my type at all. Too much hair on his face for my liking.” She grimaces and I frown at her.

“I thought you liked the whole bearded look?” We’ve argued constantly about this. I prefer a little stubble, but she full-on worships the beard. So much so, I thought she’d flip her lid when she met Jenson, Jaxson’s brother, a year or so ago. He rocks that look. But nothing ever came of it.

“Nope. I’m over the rugged, bearded, alphaholes phase. More trouble than they’re worth.” Her eyes narrow slightly and she shakes her head, grabbing her drink for a sip. “Now I’m looking for a chiselled pretty boy to take my mind off things. If one of those comes in, you’re on your own.” She grins and I know even if her chiselled pretty boy did show up here, she’d still be leaving with me. After she got his name, number and where he lives, that is.

“You know I thought something would happen between you and Jenson? He fit the bearded look to a tee.”

She gags and coughs on her drink, shooting me a very effective stink-eye. “Ew, gross. Nope. Not for me, I’m afraid. I’ll leave the Bradys to you.” She takes another sip of her drink, and I swear there’s a slight twinge of pink in her cheeks, but I must be imagining it. Angie doesn’t blush. “Besides, that’s like some weird type of friendcest or something. I’ll stick with a nice, hairless, cinnamon-roll who’ll spank me and tell me I'm a good girl, please.”

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