Page 63 of The Masks We Wear

Stacy’s eyes bulge out from her face, spit narrowly missing me as she shrieks, “If Iwantto be? You said that spot was mine!”

“If everyone hates you, you won’t have shit to lead,” I snap. “Go get cleaned up.”

Grabbing the bag of fruit my aunt packed me, I follow Amora, leaving Stacy still whimpering behind us.

Mina’s been with me for two weeks, refusing to leave now that she knows I’m alone, and packed me the best lunch every day, forcing me to eat more fruit.

It’s been strange, to say the least, but in a good way. It almost feels like having a mom, but better. Every day we talk more about the past, and each time, I let a little bit of the hurt go. According to my aunt, none of what happened had anything to do with me. A narcissistic mother and a busy father. The affair my mother had was bound to happen, and I got caught in the crossfire.

Mina told me that even as a kid, my mother needed everything to be about her and claimed having kids was her literal nightmare.

“She looked me dead in the eyes before her wedding with your father and said if he ever wanted kids, she would leave. She couldn’t imagine sacrificing her body, let alone her time, to take care of something as soul-sucking as a child. Some people are just like that, mija. It has nothing to do with you.”

“ And your father. He was a nice man, but he wanted a family after a while. When your mother had you, she handed you off so fast your dad’s head started spinning. He didn’t want to be a single dad with a wife in the next room. But then she started drinking.” My aunt paused, taking a deep inhale before continuing.

“Your father still loved her back then, so he took her away to some rehab, I’m guessing, out here in Washington. They said her triggers were family-related, so he kept me away. Thinking I would come and cause your mother to relapse. I guess after your mother’s affair, he left, and since he was the only way I got to talk to you, I lost you and had no way to find out where you were. He sure as hell wasn’t answering my calls.”

I’d questioned a lot, but was most curious as to how she finally got my number. Turned out it was as simple as seeing a real estate ad on TV with my father’s face. She saw it and called right away. He didn’t tell her I was alone, probably because he doesn’t know.

The man may have loved me once, but now it only extends to monetary gifts. Which honestly, I would take any day over having two people like my mom.

I yawn, stretch my arms, and walk into the locker room. Soon enough, the girls clear out, leaving me to soak under the hot water and breathe the steamy essence of my lavender soap.

After we shower, Amora convinces me to visit a new coffee spot up the street. Something about a hot college guy she wants to sink her teeth into. When we get there, I find a place in the back, slightly secluded. It’s a dark shop lit by low-hanging lamps that bounce the light off dark brick walls. It’s pretty cozy with old worn sofas and chairs instead of plastic ones, and the smell of fresh ground coffee beans swirls in the air, calming my racing nerves.

I’ve decided to tell Amora a few things. Mainly about Spencer and me. After everything that happened in the pink room, I could use a little of her carefree yet frank advice.

My heart flutters at the thought of our mouths connected, his warm body pressed against mine. What it would be like to give in. Could we really come back from how far we’ve fallen?

“Earth to Lily. Girl, what the fuck are you thinking about up there?” Amora sets my drink down, flopping into the seat across from me. Her long ponytail swings behind her, slapping against her shoulder.

“Sorry,” I murmur, wrapping a hand around the warm paper cup. The heat burrows into my skin, skirting up my arms.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Amora lifts her coffee, taking a tentative sip.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, wondering where I should start, what she might say. But her support has always been ironclad, even more so after the incident with my mom.

Butterflies take flight in my stomach, coasting around until I feel nauseous. “Erm. Spencer.”

Amora’s rose lips curl, her perfect pearly whites peeking through.

“About fucking time, bitch.”

ISTARE ATAMORA,whose mouth has yet to close. She’s stayed relatively quiet the entire time, only asking questions sparingly for clarification. The barista sets a second steaming coffee cup next to her, but she doesn’t move to touch it.

Just as waves of unease unleash like a tidal wave through my gut, she huffs, leaning back into the soft upholstery. She runs her tongue over her teeth before tilting her head to the side. “So, all this” —she waves a hand around— “was because you think he didn’t reciprocate your feelings, and you thought he was using you for a little summer fun?”

I chew on the inside of my lip until a bitter metallic taste coats my mouth. “Yes.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “And what did you think when he asked to move here?”

“Well, I figured he was eating his words since I” —framing my face, I give a tight lip smile— “Got a little sexier.”

Amora scoffs, picking up her now tepid drink, icy blue eyes rolling dramatically into her head. “I see. Well, honestly, Lil, I think it was a legit misunderstanding. And I got to say, he’s handled all the shit you’ve thrown his way really well. Any other guy would have had you gutted like a fish by now.”

I cringe inwardly at everything I’ve done—all the wasted time. Things could have been so different…

“What are you going to do?” She takes a sip, wrinkles her nose, and lifts a finger to beckon the barista.

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