Page 66 of Play With Me
“I wanna talk to you. Answer phone. Answer me.”
I don’t. I don’t call him back either. I’m afraid that if I do, I’ll give my feelings away, and I don’t want to be vulnerable like that. If I just make it seem like I don’t care, like it doesn’t matter, then I can move on with some dignity.
I have self-respect.
So, I don’t respond. I just tuck my phone under my pillow and make my way out to the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee.
My sister, Maya, is there, glasses on her nose, her fingers clacking on her computer. Coffee is already brewed, and she has a steaming cup right next to her.
She glances up at me and pushes out her bottom lip.
“Yeah, you sit down, baby bro. Let me get you a coffee, and you can tell me all about it.”
I must look bad, but then again, Maya has always seen right through me.
I do as she suggests, sinking into the chair and staring at the rain coming down outside.
A moment later, a mug of coffee is set before me, and I pull it between my hands, blowing across the top.
“Spill,” she says.
“Nah.”
She stays silent, knowing I will open up in a minute. I take a tentative sip of the coffee and sigh when I taste the Baileys.
“It’s too early to drink.”
“Not when you’re upset. Then the rules don’t count.”
I nod and take another sip.
“Don’t tell anyone else, please. Cone of silence?”
“Cone.” She mimics putting something on top of her head—a cone, I assume—and then takes her coffee in her hands and waits.
“He’s visiting family. Hates them, obviously. Told me not to believe anything I saw online this weekend.”
“That’s weird.”
“Yeah, I’ve never looked him up before, and that just made me curious. So I did, and I saw him on a live last night, kissing a girl.”
Maya glowers, murder in her eyes. “I hate him.”
“Maya…we aren’t even together. He can do whatever, or whoever, he wants.”
“Nope, that’s not how it works. Unless he has a good reason to kiss someone else, then I don’t buy it.”
I take another sip of the coffee, feeling my stomach churn.
“I don’t know what to do. I feel sick.”
Her hand reaches out and squeezes my arm. “I get it. Hate it when someone you like hurts you.”
“I don’t like him.”
“You clearly do.”
I can’t lie anymore, so I just sit there sipping my coffee, and Maya does the same until she starts squirming in her chair.
