I look ridiculous.
I feel ridiculous.
I am ridiculous.
Not sure what I was thinking when I decided screwing Zane de la Cruz was remotely a good idea. Guess that was the problem – I wasn’t thinking. This is what happens when I let my body steer the ship.
I hear his voice from down the hall, and I hear him tell someone he’s alone.
Hot tears fill my eyes, and I know I’ve officially been lied to. Betrayed.
I trusted him. And yet all along, I knew better.
Sneaking out the back door, I run toward Aunt Rue’s, and I thank the stars in the night sky above when the code on the back door works on the first try.
Once I’m inside, I tear his clothes off my body and climb into the hottest shower I can stand, rinsing him off of me, out of my hair, from my skin, off of every part of me he touched. All of it drips off my body and swirls down the drain, going right where it belongs.
Zane de la Cruz will never touch me again.
* * *
When I come out of the shower, I hear the clinking of keys from the kitchen.
“Aunt Rue?” I call out.
“Yes, sweetheart. Down here.”
I’m wrapped in a thin bath towel, her AC has the house feeling like a chest freezer, and my fresh face is still stained with tears, so I’m hoping this will be brief.
The grandfather clock in the hall reads ten o’clock.
“I thought you were staying out late tonight?” I ask.
“Sweetheart, this is late. I’m usually in bed by eight. You know that.” She steps out of low, chunky heels and plugs her phone into its charger. “I’m exhausted. It’s been a long time since we cut a rug like that. I might need to see my podiatrist in the morning.”
She limps down the hall before stopping and turning to face me.
Oh, shit. She notices.
“You have a nice evening?” she asks.
I exhale, forcing a smile. “Yeah.”
“I worry about you, you know,” she says. “You came here to help me this summer, but you don’t seem like you’re having a good time.”
Aunt Rue moves closer to me.
“Listen, I know I have an active social life, but I have no intentions of slowing down anytime soon. Why don’t you call one of your sisters and see if they want to come out and stay for a bit? Maybe the two of you could borrow the car and take a trip down to South Beach? Somewhere young and hip?”
I laugh. I may be young, but I’m far from hip. I’d stick out like a sore thumb in South Beach. I’d need a whole new wardrobe too.
“What’s Daphne doing this summer? Is she home from Paris?”
“Yeah, she just got back a few weeks ago.”
“Call her up. Get her down here. My treat.” Aunt Rue gives me a wink. “You’re far too young to live like an old bitty. I want you to have fun this summer while you’re here. Can’t sit around and wait for the house to sell, you know. That’s Taylor’s job.”
“I’ll give her a call.”
“All right, darling. I’m going to bed now.” Aunt Rue turns, limping the rest of the way to her room at the far end of the hall.
When I return to mine, I drop my towel and step into the warmest pajamas I can find before grabbing my phone and crawling under the covers.
I smell like mandarin verbena soap, but I swear I can still smell him.
I fire off a text to my twin sister, Daphne.
“ARE YOU UP?” I write.
Two minutes later she responds with a phone call.
“Of course I’m up,” she says. “It’s ten o’clock. What’s going on?”
“Got any plans this weekend?”
“You sound bored. Are you bored down there?”
“Kind of.” I sigh and slink back. “I mean, the weather is great, and Rue lets me borrow her car anytime I want to do anything, but showings are few and far between, and there aren’t a lot of people my age here. It’s not like when we were younger and we just made our own fun. It’s kind of lonely here now.”
“You want me to come stay for a while?”
“Will you?”
“I was already planning on it,” she says. “I owe Rue a visit anyway.”
“Good. How does Friday look for you?”
“This Friday?” Daphne laughs.
“And how long can you stay? I was thinking a month or two.”
She blows into the phone. “Sorry. Drying my nails. And no, I will not be staying a month or two. I can stay a week. Max. I’m starting a new job at some farmhouse café that just opened in town. They wanted me to start next week, but I can tell them I need another.”
“You went to art school and lived in Paris for a year and now you’re going to work at a farmhouse café? Are Mom and Dad pissed? I think they thought you’d be working at MoMA by now.”
“I’m painting murals for them.” Daphne clears her throat. “It’s just for the summer. They’re not open for business yet.”
“My bad.”
“Anyway, you book my tickets and send me the info, and I’ll be there. But I’m only staying a week.”
“You’re the best sister in the world.”
“Don’t tell Demi that.”
We giggle.
“I’d invite Demi down here, too, but she’s all wrapped up in Royal still,” I say.
“God, I know. They’re inseparable. I don’t think she could handle a week away from him. She’d be on the phone the whole time.”