Page 36 of Heart Sick Hate

For more reasons than I can say out loud.

“We have an arrangement,” is all I can offer.

Maren taps her fingernails on the box in her hand and quirks an eyebrow. “Whatever works.”

I fold another shirt. “That’s it?”

Maren shrugs. “I’m not one to judge. You do you, girl. As long as you’re happy.”

Our eyes lock, and I’m pretty sure my answer gives everything away, but I force a smile, trying to bury the truth likely painted on my face.

“Besides…” Maren leans against the table. “Someone’s clearly keeping you happy.”

I freeze. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on girl.” She nudges my arm. “You’re the most relaxed I’ve ever seen you this morning—apart from when I bring up your dingbat, holy boyfriend. Someone fucked the nerves out of you last night. I just don’t know who.”

My jaw goes a little slack. I’m not used to having girlfriends, and Maren constantly surprises me by always seeing through everything. Things I don’t even notice myself. Because she’s right. I haven’t chewed a piece of gum or smoked a joint in hours. I can’t remember the last time I was this calm. And even if I hate him, there’s only one person to thank for it.

“I didn’t have sex last night.” I turn my face so she can’t catch the blush running my cheeks.

Maren scans me anyway, down and up. A lie detector in action. “Fine. But you did something.”

Smirking, she bites her lip and continues watching me. We both know she’s right. I did more than something. Ididn’t know a person could come that many times in a row and survive it.

“Mm-hmm,” is all she hums as she walks away in her five-inch heels with a stack of folded clothes.

“Hey, babe.” Hands find my shoulders and squeeze.

I spin around to find Rhett standing behind me, wearing the mask he’s perfected so well. Preacher boy. Golden boy.

My friend, I remind myself.

It’s not his fault I’m letting his brother get to me. Crew only wants what he can’t have. He’s impulsive and territorial. While Rhett is safe—expected. He’s security, and that’s something I can’t help but need.

Rhett plants a chaste kiss on the side of my temple—the extent of our sexual relationship. It’s never bothered me. If anything, the fact that he’s never pushed for more is one of the reasons I’m as comfortable around him as I am. But after last night, hearing his conversation with the girl on his phone, I see it from his side for the first time. I’m a chore.

Even if he wants the benefits of us, that’s the extent of it.

“What are you up to today?” He tips his chin up at the boxes behind me. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

We don’t really communicate outside of staged gatherings. And we don’t update each other on things happening in our lives, but maybe we should. Having the title of boyfriend or girlfriend is one thing, but if people are going to believe it, he shouldn’t have to ask me questions like this one.

Glancing around the room, I wonder if they see through the roles we’re playing as I paint a fake smile on my face. I wonder how many of the women here are dating my boyfriend and know the truth. I wonder if it makes me inhuman that I don’t care.

I should burn up on this holy ground.

Instead, I roll my shoulders back and draw on the cool confidence Rhett radiates. Like the earth isn’t shaking beneath our feet. Like all of this doesn’t feel one wrong move away from breaking.

“Maren and I are going to get our nails done, and then we’re heading to Fusion for a few drinks.”

He nods, but the slightest downturn of the corner of his lips indicates his disappointment. His eyes skim me over and land on every visible tattoo like they’re burning my flesh.

“Want to join us?” I almost choke on the offer, painting the best forced smile on my face.

Rhett shakes his head, thankfully. His hair so polished and gelled it doesn’t so much as shuffle with the movement. “No, I’ll let you ladies have your girl time.”

Sometimes I wonder if anyone else sees past the veil of our excuses for our lack of spending time as a couple. Sometimes I wonder if I should care.

---