Belonged on the team.
Belonged in Missarali.
Belonged with…me.
“You like butt play or something?”
I freeze, staring at Mae standing on the other side of the kitchen island. “What?”
She laughs, nodding toward the chicken my hand is stuffed in, the lemon still in my palm. “You’ve had your hand up that chicken’s ass for the past few minutes.”
I remove it, not realising how I’d let my mind wander. “Watching me or something, princess?”
She hums, keeping her voice hushed. “Oh, always.”
And as I let my eyes flit down to her curved lips, having to resist the urge to pull her to me and tell her how fucking perfect she looks standing in my house, I realise that I’m in over my head when it comes to this girl.
21: Mae
“Thanks again, Mae!” Sheila from the Missarali City Animal Shelter says as she takes Radish’s leash from my hand. He’s worn out from our hour-long walk across the fields, ensuring we stayed away from the farmer and his crops this time.
I missed him too much to never come back, so I’ve offered to volunteer twice a week for as long as I’m in the city.
Radish has had a few potential adopters turn their noses up at him. Even though he’s a boisterous character, he doesn’t show much interest in anyone who comes to meet him.
I told the centre that it’s his way of letting them know they weren’t suitable adopters for him.
I give Radish a gentle boop on his damp nose as a farewell before leaving the shelter—the rental place repaired my car free of charge. The crackly radio plays a song from one of our cheerleading routines, and I mentally run through the moves, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment that Sophia’s now back from her honeymoon, which means I don’t need to take her place any longer.
She bought me a big box of chocolates to show her gratitude for stepping up while she was gone, and I invited Flo over to my place to indulge in them over a hefty glass of wine.
My mother adores Sophia. I think she sees her as the daughter she never had, which stings when I’m right here in front of her. But comparing myself to others doesn’t help me when my mom does it enough for both of us.
Sophia is Sophia.
And I’m me.
I’m perfectly fine with that.
As I step into the house, my mom’s floral perfume hits me. She stands in the kitchen with her hands on her hips, the setting sun rays streaming through the window behind her.
“I’ve been watching back the last two performances without Sophia,” she says as she prepares herself a green tea—the kind I think tastes like swamp water. But she enjoys its health benefits.
“Okay.”
“You were out of time for the final eight counts.”
I roll my eyes. Trust Renee Bexley to flip something I’ve done that I’m proud of and turn it into something negative. But she’s not the glass-is-half-full kind of woman.
“I don’t think I was half bad for a rookie who only agreed to do this last minute because she lost her job.”
My mother stirs her tea. “That’s what Sophia said.”
“Wait, what?”
She cocks her head, but her eyes linger on me with faux surprise. “Sophia. She agreed that you—”
“No, no.” I hold my hands up to stop her. “I heard what you said. Did you just tell me that you told Sophia I lost my job?”
