Page 77 of Your Coffin or Mine
I scream and whirl around to look up at him bathed in the kitchen light, like there’s a halo around his body.
“Hey,” I croak, hoping he didn’t hear any of our conversation.
His arms are folded, but I can’t see his face. I get the feeling I was overheard, but at least he wouldn’t have heard the insanity that is my best friend and her illegal computer actions.
He makes his way down the steps and heads straight for the wall opposite the stairs. The lights flicker on.
“Why would anyone put the light switch there?” I murmur.
He turns, grinning like he’s happy to see me, and it settles me. My heart melts at the smile, reminding me of the picture George took and how someone called him “hot man meat” in the comments.
I smile and pray it doesn’t look like I’m panicking. Fuck me and fuck Chad, but mostly fuck George and his cute, cuddly face. Burnie, too, for freaking me out. My stomach somersaults with dread and I suddenly remember the reason I’m in here in the first place. The room is lined with so many shelves, all filled with old bottles, some with bright-red stoppers. I eye a crate just to the right inside the door that looks like a label I recognize.
“What are you doing?” he asks, stepping closer, and I try to move away without making it obvious.
“Umm, I needed wine ’cause, uh, yeah. I really need to talk to you.” My shoulders slump, and I squeeze the first bottle I grab ahold of to my chest.
“What’s wrong?” he says, concern lining his voice. It makes me want to kiss him.
Focus, Aubrey.“It’s about some stuff that’s been posted online, and I just wanted to give you a heads up about it.”
“If you want to speak to me about what is bothering you, we should find somewhere more suitable than the cellar.” He frowns, his face going all broody.
It reminds me that there are possibly millions of women salivating over him and wanting to punch me in the tit right about now.
“You’re viral,” I blurt. He needs to know, and the longer it takes me to tell him, the more of an asshole I will feel.
“I’m what?” he asks.
“George snapped a picture of us and posted it.”
“Oh.”
“Yes,oh, and now you are viral.”
“So, this has nothing to do with the shithead?” he asks, his forehead crinkling as he does.
My mind blanks. What shithead?
“Oh my god, are you still on that?” I whine. “No, it doesn’t have anything to do with Chad.” He grips my arm to help me up the stairs like a gentleman and I spiral. “Well, I say that, but it kind of does.”
“It’s okay.” God, why doesn’t he sound concerned?
I shake my head. “I didn’t even think about that. Fucking George! Chad will probably try to make this ugly, too. Not that I mind anyone knowing about you. Shit, I am saying this wrong. You’re not a dirty secret.” My words die off as he forces my lips together, squishing them between his fingers to give me a duck mouth.
“Aubrey, stop worrying. I am sure everything will be fine.”
“Okay,” I say, the sound muffled behind his fingers.
“Will you listen for a moment and not speak?”
I nod and he smiles, his hand still covering my mouth. “Are you sure? Because I don’t want to interrupt your incessant rambling.”
I glower at him and roll my eyes.
His hand moves to cup my cheek. “Good. I don’t care about that weasel, Chad, and truly I don’t care what George does, as long as it doesn’t upset you. To be perfectly honest, George probably assumed this would fix the issue after I asked him for his help. So, if you want to blame anyone, love, blame me.”
I stand, blinking up at him like an owl. “Wait, what?”
