Page 100 of Faking It with the Forward

There’s an underlying question here that isn’t about chips. She really wants to know how long I’m planning on staying. The truth is that I don’t know. I can get away with keeping up with my classes online for a few days, but I have some big decisions to make and only a few days to make them.

Reese’s declaration to me on the dance floor sent me on a spiral. I’d barely been able to keep it together for the rest of the ride home or when Logan kissed me on the front porch of the house.

Yeah, Logan kissed me and then asked if I wanted to go to the New Kings concert with him.

It wasn’t until I said no to a chance to go see my favorite band with a really great guy, who happened to also be a pretty good kisser, that I realized everything in my life was upside down.

I needed space from Wittmore, my internship, but most of all, Reese.

My mom is gone no more than four minutes when my sister comes in the door. It’s this thing they do when they’re worried about me, communicating about me not being alone. They’re worried I may fall back into old habits and do something harmful. I get the fear, but I hate the babying.

“Hey,” Ruby says, grabbing the chip bag off the table and sitting on the other end of the couch. She looks into the empty bag. “Seriously? I work a nine-hour day with a group of kids I’m certain are spawned straight from the devil and you don’t leave me a single chip.”

“In my defense,” I say, keeping my eyes on the TV, “I had no idea you were coming over.”

She kicks off her shoes and draws them under her body. “Oh, is this the one where four people were in the house together and one died and there’s zero evidence who did it.”

“Yep.”

“Have you gotten to the part about the cache of sex toys?” she asks casually.

“No!” I press pause on the remote and whip my head toward her. “Don’t be a spoiler.”

“Sorry.” She holds up her hands innocently. “I figured you’d already seen it.”

I turn back on the show and do my best to ignore her, but she’s restless, shifting around until I finally look over and snap, “Okay, what’s going on? Why are you here?”

“Me?” She shrugs. “I just wanted to hang out with you while you’re in town.” She pushes her feet out, crossing the imaginary boundary line on the couch. Her toes brush against Bertha, who stretches lazily and gives her a side eye. Thank you, Bertha. “So, how long are you going to be in town?”

Again, I pause the show. “Mom made you ask me that, didn’t she?”

“She didn’t make me. I’m wondering. She’s wondering.” She pins me with a look. “Fine, tip-toeing around it isn’t working. What the hell are you doing home in the middle of a school week?”

“I needed a break to figure some things out.” I scowl at her. “Everything’s under control.”

“Mmhm,” she hums. “And is that why you didn’t tell Nadia you were leaving?”

“You talked to Nadia?” Well, that rankles me even more. “Did you call her?”

“No,” she says matter-of-factly. “She called me. Worried, by the way. She said you just took off, left your classes and your internship. No one knew where you were!”

Bertha startles at her loud voice and I run a hand down Bertha’s head to settle her. “I emailed my teachers and had a meeting with Coach Green. He knew I needed a few days off.”

“Isn’t the first game of the season this weekend?”

“My advisor found someone to cover for me.” I press play on the TV, but she reaches out and snatches the remote out of my hands then turns it completely off. “Hey!”

“Twyler, what’s really going on?” She sighs. “You can tell me or Mom, but she’s going to find out.”

“Somehow I’ve fucked everything up.”

“That sounds a little melodramatic.”

“Oh yeah?” I launch into everything–all of it. What really was going on with Reese. The warning from Coach Green. How I was so distracted Pete got seriously hurt from my negligence. The fundraiser and Nadia and Logan. When I finish, she stares at me unblinking, so I go ahead and add, “There’s something else.”

“Okay,” she says warily.

“Logan invited me to the New Kings concert, and I said no.” Her mouth opens, but no words come out. “Say something,” I tell her, pulling at the fringe on the edge of the blanket.

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