Page 67 of We Are the Stars

10

Elliott

If you askedme right this second what the hell is going on between Carsen and me, I’d tell you this:

I.

Have.

No.

Fucking.

Clue.

It’s been nearly a month since I stayed over at his house.

At work, we’re strangers. At night, we’re not. We talk until the sun rises. We spend time at his place or at the graveyard with Faith. We have dinner with the boyfriends. I stay over at his house at least three times a week. We’re near inseparable.

But at Down the Lane, we communicate via text, grunts, or hand signals. It’s so stilted and awkward that even Bryan’s asked if there’s an issue between us.

No, Uncle Bryan, not at all. In fact, your number one worker over here had his hand down my pants just last night. Nothing wrong at all.

I can’t even begin to label what it is we’re doing. We talk, kiss, give one another pleasure, and then we pretend to be strangers.

“You busy tonight?”

Carsen’s words cause me to jump and I nearly drop the phone that was carefully balancing in my hand. He grins and raises a brow, waiting for my answer.

I stare back blankly. “You’re talking to me.”

He tilts his head, confused. “So?”

“In public. At work.”

“Repeat my last question back to yourself.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Carsen, you’ve ignored me at work from almost day one and have talked/kissed/whatever-ed with me at night whenever you pleased for at least the last month. Why is that changing right now?”

He peers around the bowling alley and I follow his gaze.

We’re alone.

Bryan’s gone, Cal isn’t here, and there are no customers.

That’s it.

We’realone.

“Are you embarrassed of me?”

His face burns a bright red, and I’m not certain if it’s out of anger or humiliation.

He doesn’t answer.

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