Page 29 of Wilder Love
“Did you take Tylenol or anything?” I asked, looking toward the bathroom.
“No. I checked the cabinet but couldn’t find any.”
Of course not. They probably didn’t have a first aid kit either.
* * *
“You can stop playingnurse now and get back out there,” Remy said after I’d cleaned the gash on her head—she’d barely winced—and gave her Tylenol.
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“How did you guess? You’ve eaten your weird breakfast. Now you’re just being a slacker.”
“Avocadoes aren’t weird.”
She bit into her green apple. “They are when you smash them and stuff them into a sweet potato.”
I watched her eat the entire apple, core and all. “And that’s not weird.”
She shrugged and held up the stem. “It would have been weird if I ate the stem.”
I laughed and shook my head. “So, how do you know Tristan Hart?”
“From school.”
There was more to it, I could tell she hesitated, not wanting to tell me everything.
“I didn’t realize you knew him,” she said.
“I don’t know him. His dad owns HartCore.”
“Of course, he does. I should have figured that out.” She sighed.
“Does he hassle you?” I asked, remembering his words. What I really wanted to know was if she had ever hooked up with that douche.
“No. I have nothing to do with him.”
Why did I get the distinct impression that she was lying?
Remy was cagey sometimes. She kept a lot of secrets. Peeling back the many layers of Remy St. Clair was a challenge. She only shared small parts of herself but unlike a lot of girls, she didn’t go out of her way to only show herself in the best light. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone or pretend she had her shit together.
No. Remy was unapologetically herself. She didn’t flirt. She didn’t act coy. She didn’t give the impression that she gave a shit what anyone else thought about her. I loved that about her. Even though she kept secrets, she was the most honest person I’d ever known. She wasreal.
“Well, as much as I’d love to hang out and watch you eat acai bowls or whatever is next on your menu, I have to get to work.” She stood to go.
“You should rest.”
“You’re great at giving advice and not taking it, aren’t you?” she asked as we walked down the stairs.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Hossegor. Your rotator cuff. How’s your shoulder?”
“Good as new.”
“Sure it is.”
After I dropped off Remy, I headed back to the break. Tristan Hart was gone.
