“About sleeping with a fifteen-year-old boy? Please, do explain it to me, because I’m having a really hard time understanding what the hell you get from the relationship. I can see the appeal for my brother. You’re cute. He gets bragging rights—”
“Oh, fuck you, Ayda. You don’t know shit.”
I spun on my heel and stared her down, but she wasn’t looking at me. She was rocked back on her heels, her toes banging together while her hands gripped one of the shelves behind her. She looked as though she was in pain the way she held her lips. There were some days I really hated being as empathetic as I was, because I shouldn’t have felt guilty about what I said or for the way she seemed to cringe at the thought of her own response of cussing me out.
“I’m s-sorry. That was out of line, and I didn’t mean it. You have every right to be upset, but I need you to know that I like him. Tate, that is. I’m only eighteen, and the girls invited me in to help around the place.”
“Wait. You’re eighteen?”
“Yeah, but I ain’t slept with any of the guys or nothing. I just served drinks so the girls didn’t have to. The others said it was like an initiation or something, but it was more like free labor.”
“Now that I believe,” I said, ripping at the cellophane on the packaging. I continued to work, dropping the bubble at the bottom of the washing machine before starting to pile the clothes on top. I was struggling to find something to say. It was almost as bad as talking to Tate. “Why’d you stick around?”
“I didn’t have anywhere else to go. My mom kicked me out, and I was staying with one of the other girls. If I backed out, I had nowhere else to go. So I stayed and did what I had to. The guys were really sweet. Then you showed up, and—”
“Everyone participated in hating me?”
“Something like that.”
“What about you and Tate?” I asked, slamming the door and pressing buttons to start the wash. I gave the girl acontemplative look and slipped onto the washer, folding my legs under me. ”When did that start and how?”
“When?” She looked up at the ceiling with a small, wistful smile before catching herself and looking back down at me. “A couple days after the fire. He was pretty low and had taken a bottle of bourbon from behind the bar. I found him in the kitchen at two in the morning, hunting for munchies, and we started talking. Next thing I know he’s kissing me. Tate’s a force of nature, Ayda. I’ve never known anybody like him. I swore I wasn’t going to see him again, but he grabbed me one night and pulled me in his room, and I couldn’t say no. You don’t see what I see. He’s so mature and respectful. He loves to talk about anything, and he knows all this stuff from reading books. He’s passionate about everything, including me, and I guess…”
“You’re asking me not to stop him from seeing you.”
Libby’s shoulders slumped, her hands swinging around in front of her as something in her nails was somehow suddenly very interesting.
My brother the heartbreaker… Jesus, I was in trouble with that one. If it wasn’t Libby, it would be someone else, someone who wouldn’t give a shit how I felt about him screwing them, someone who just wanted to use him as a prize and would think nothing of breaking his heart.
Rolling my eyes, I patted the top of the dryer next to me in a request for her to join me. For a second she looked unsure, but moved anyway, sliding up onto the metal surface and swinging her legs against the front as she leaned back and turned her head to look at me in question.
“I’m taking a stab in the dark here and saying that Tate is just outside. He can’t hear us. We both know that, but he’sthere to step in if needed. Am I right?”
“I told him it was a stupid idea. You’re protective, not clinically insane.”
“Gee, thanks!” I huffed with a quiet laugh. “ And get used to stupid ideas. He has a lot of them.”
I picked at nothing on my leg and looked at the girl who seemed to be holding her breath. She obviously liked Tate or she wouldn’t have been the one in the room with me. He would have been here yelling and screaming like the child he was. With Tate about to turn sixteen in just under two months, I felt as though eighteen wasn’t such a big leap. He was smart, and he was passionate. He wore his heart on his sleeve and still believed he had the world at his fingertips. Maybe he did, which was why this idea of Drew’s seemed more and more like a good plan of action.
I wasn’t asking Tate to give up a future that he wanted. I understood the draw of the club and even, to an extent, the draw of Libby, but I needed him to see what else was out in the world. I felt obligated to show him the decisions he still had in front of him, not make them for him. Who the hell was I to take away something that he wanted now?
“Tate!” I shouted, throwing a small wink at Libby. She seemed confused. Her eyes were narrowed and focused in my direction as she tried to read me. I wished her the best of luck with that. Tate had been trying to read me for years and he still couldn’t figure me out. I was a perfect blend of our parents.
When the door finally opened, I schooled my face into a serious look and raised my eyebrows at him in question. He shuffled deeper inside and pushed his hands into his pockets, a sheepish smile aimed at Libby. Needing to grab his attention, I coughed once.
“What?”
Worked every time. “You know what.”
“I really don’t, A.”
“Yeah. You really do,T. Why were you lying to me?”
“I wasn’t lying.”
“Like hell you weren’t,” I said, slipping down off the washer and approaching him. I looked up at him and smirked, shaking my head slowly as I finally let my smile show. “You sent a girl to talk to me.”
“I know. I figured it would be less awkward and there was a chance you’d listen to her. Because let's face it, you sure as hell wouldn’t have listened to me.”
