Page 45 of Houston, We Have a Problem
“Sorry.”
“I’m just saying you and I worked so well because we both knew it wasn’t going to go anywhere. As soon as things become real, it’s easy to start looking for reasons why it will fail.”
Frowning, I watch the way Derek poses with the women so naturally, no traces of discomfort in his body language. He clearly loves the spotlight, but I know Bonnie doesn’t. She’s in it more for the acting than the fame.
“So, what’s the deal with you and Riley?” I ask. “Is it complicated or easy?”
Bonnie’s smile shifts, still firmly in place but far less real. “Things with Derek are complicated. But not for the reasons you think.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Better yet, do I need to have a talk with the movie star and make sure he really is treating her right?
“Easy, Hou. I don’t need you fighting any battles for me.” Snickering, Bonnie pats my chest again and then rejoins Derek in front of the camera, giving him a thorough kiss as the partygoers around us cheer. She seems happy, at least, though my heart still feels heavy in my chest.
Am I complicating things with Darcy when I don’t need to? I could just ask her about Jesse. But I’m not sure I’m brave enough for that, and I fear what the truth might do. What if she’s lied to me about other things? I barely know her, and the thought that some of the things I think I know might not be real brings an uneasiness to my stomach.
“Let’s get Briggs in this one,” the photographer says.
I return to Bonnie’s side and paste on my smile, but as soon as the picture is done, I slip away, sneaking onto the back porch to have a moment to breathe. Hopefully Micah doesn’t mind, but my ability to remain cheerful is dwindling the longer the night goes on.
Right as I get out into the cool night air, my phone buzzes with a text.
Darcy: My arm is so sore after throwing that ball today. Is that normal?
I settle against the railing on the deck, gripping my phone. A couple of people sit around the gas fire pit, but I’ve got a corner relatively to myself. Which is good when I’m this frustrated. I don’t even know why I’m frustrated! Honestly, Darcy’s text makes me that much more attracted to her because she’s just so real. Unapologetic.
There must be a reason she called Jesse her brother when she first moved in. Darcy doesn’t seem the sort to lie.
Tapping my phone against my palm, I consider the best response to her text. I’ve got a lot of things I would love to say:Who is Jesse and should I be worried that you’re living with him? I’m mad I didn’t kiss you today. If I knock on your door with ice cream tonight, will you answer?
I for sure can’t say that last one because it’s after nine o’clock, which means even if I left now I wouldn’t get back to Sun City until after eleven. As much as I’ve come to love my late-night conversations with Darcy, they’re dangerous.
The text I do send feels sterile and impersonal.
Me: Alternate ice and heat and find some stretches online. That will help.
She answers quickly, and I can almost hear her sarcasm.
Darcy: Yes, Doctor.
Darcy: My sister is a physical therapist, remember?
Right. I learned that just today, which means I was probably a bit too distracted by thoughts of kissing her to bother paying attention.
My thumb hovers over my phone, though I don’t like this urge to tell her that my arm is sore too. She likely won’t think anything of it, but putting my pain out into the world feels dangerous. What if she tells someone? I don’t know who she would tell, but I can picture someone like Tamlin Park getting wind of my arm going out and using the rumor to take me down before I’m ready.
I groan as flashbacks from Thursday fill my head. Flashbacks of Tamlin going from an annoyance to someone genuinely impressive. She’s too smart for her own good, and that, plus her beauty, make her feel so untouchable. Like she’s not real. And yet she’s still in my head, a constant pressure in the back of my mind that’s too hard to ignore even though I’ve got my sights set elsewhere. While Tamlin is every man’s dream, Darcy is down to earth and approachable.
But Darcy keeps secrets, and Tamlin isn’t afraid to tell the truth.
“Are you seriously comparing the two of them right now?” I mutter to myself. I have spoken to Tamlin exactly three times in my life.
And that’s different from Darcy how?
Though I haven’t responded to Darcy’s last text, I pull up Jordan’s number and hit the dial button. I need a distraction, and he’s always good for that.
He answers at the last second, sounding out of breath. “Hey, what’s up?”
I frown. “Uh, you okay?”
