Page 39 of Not Fooling Anyone

LEXIE

Stupid freaking needles.

Why didn’t they put that on any of the forms we filled out initially? Was it there and I glossed over it? Did they purposely withhold the information so it would be a surprise?

Or am I the only person it’s a big deal to?

Mom laying on the couch, arm outstretched on the coffee table, a syringe dangling from her blue fingertips.

I squeeze my eyes shut, pausing on the stairs as I grip the railing. Not here. It was bad enough reliving that stuff in the lab.

I push the memory away, continuing down, shoving open the bottom door with more force than necessary as I exit.

While I’d normally head over to the computer lab to get some work done, I’m not up to it today. I drive home and review my notes from class earlier, eyeing the doorstop of a book I still need to finish for Russian Lit, but I can’t focus enough to fully comprehend it right now.

Rushing over and placing trembling fingers on her neck, unable to find a pulse, lips blue too. Her skin pale, a fresh puncture wound next to the scabbing along her inner elbow.

I slam my notebook closed, standing and pacing my room, past the mattress on the floor, the desk and chair that Travis’s last roommate left behind, to the window with a sheet tacked up over it, and spin around, repeating the path until the image leaves my mind.

It’s in the past. It can’t happen again.

I grab my bag and head out of the apartment, thankful Travis isn’t home yet from class. He would know something was wrong.

The same as Ethan did.

No, I’m not thinking about him either. Even though I stupidly told him where I’d be tonight, like it was an invitation. Even though I owe him an explanation for earlier. And an apology. And gratitude.

Ugh.

Could I have done anything more embarrassing in front of him? Maybe only if my lunch had come up the way it had threatened to.

And yet, he had still stuck by me, willingly helping, despite not asking him to. Was it just for show because of Justin? It was definitely the kind of stuff a boyfriend would do. Especially when he had pressed that lingering kiss to the back of my hand.

Wait, didn’t I just tell myself I’m not thinking about him?

I make my way to Marty’s Boxing Gym earlier than I intended to go, but Marty only said to be here tonight, not a specific time. I ignore the male interest that greets me as I walk in, not making eye contact with anyone. You’d think they’ve never seen a girl before.

Even so, I can’t help taking a second look every time I pass a tall guy with dark hair, searching for a matching beard and mischievous green eyes.

But no such luck. He must not have cared about seeing me tonight. And why would he after I practically ran from him in the Psych building?

I just couldn’t handle much more then. I’d been too exposed. Too weak. Too raw.

All right, for the last time, stop thinking about him.

I knock twice on Marty’s glass door, waiting till he raises his gray head and signals for me to enter.

“You finished with that ledger yet?” He’s not one for preamble, is he?

“Almost.” It was a lot of grunt work, but breaking it up over a few nights this past week made it more manageable. “Once I record everything, I’ll start reconciling and see where we stand.”

“You doubt my bookkeeping skills?” His tone is gruff, but I’m used to that.

“I’m just doing my due diligence.”

“Good. We need more people like that around here.”

“Um, thanks.” I’m not sure it was even a compliment.

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