Page 8 of The Love of My Next Life
I also don’t want to sleep on the twin air mattress in her bedroom, or share the Jack and Jill bathroom with her and Macon. And I definitely don’t want to be in the room right next to Macon’s, so I can hear him sneaking out in the middle of the night.
Or worse, sneaking Samin.
I suppress a shudder as his words at school pop back up in my head, and my thoughts are invaded by a visual of Macon screwing some faceless girl in the janitor’s closet. Right next to a mop bucket and one of those large brooms the maintenance crew push around.
In my mind, Macon is still fully clothed, but the ragged breathing coming from him as he pumps into the girl, and the way his one hand presses into the wall for balance, makes my heart race and my cheeks heat.
“...pick up your stuff after school on Friday.” Claire’s voice regains my attention, and I blink out of my daydream...day nightmare?
“Sounds good,” I say, and Claire hops down from the counter and tosses her apple core in the trash.
“We’re gonna go upstairs for a bit, Mom. You work tonight?”
I put my uneaten apple back in the basket, then follow Claire toward the stairs, keeping my attention on Andrea.
“I am closing and have inventory tonight,” Andrea says. “I have to leave in twenty and will be back late, but I’m off tomorrow.”
Andrea is a manager at a large department store. She’s worked there for as long as I’ve known the Davises, but she started as a retail clerk. She worked her way up and was promoted to manager two years ago. Macon bought her flowers and cupcakes to celebrate. It’s literally the only kind thing I’ve ever seen him do.
“Don’t work too hard,” I tell her, and she winks at me.
Claire tells her mom she loves her, and we head upstairs to her room. As soon as we cross the threshold, she shuts the door and hits me with a guilty look. My back goes rigid.
Not again.
“What?” I ask nervously.
“Don’t be mad,” she says, nose scrunched in an attempt to look apologetic. She’s not. She never is.
“Just tell me,” I demand.
“Promise you won’t be mad, first.”
I tip my head to the ceiling and close my eyes.
“Fine,” I say into the air, “I won’t be mad.” And even if I am, I won’t tell her.
She claps excitedly, and I bring my eyes back to her face. Her triumphant grin sets my teeth on edge.
“Josh invited us to a party, and I told him we’d be there.” Her words are rushed, her eyes so wide and giddy that I can’t help the upward turn of my lips.
Claire has been crushing on Josh since eighth grade. They made out once sophomore year after a football game, but he acted like nothing happened the next day. I don’t like him at all, but Claire does.
I’ll give it to her, he is gorgeous. Quarterback of the football team with a dazzling smile and thick eyelashes. He’s a regular small-town American hero. And of course, he’s a jerk.
“He invitedus?” I push her, and she scrunches her nose up again.
“C’mon, Len. Everyone knows we’re a packaged deal,” she says, all but confirming my suspicions. Josh didn’t inviteme. He invitedher. I’m just being dragged along...
“And I suppose you want me to be DD?”
“Lennon,” she whines, “you don’t drink anyway. I’m not saying I’ll get wasted, but I’ll need a drink to take the edge off my nerves. You know how I get around Josh.”
I snort a laugh and she glowers at me. She’s not kidding. She’s a tongue-tied, bumbling mess around the Golden Boy.
“Claire,” I try to reason, “it’s aMonday.”
I don’t know why I bother even pointing it out. She won’t care. Not like I do. As if on cue, she waves her hand in the air, dismissing my statement.
