“Hey, nice shorts!” Another voice calls out.
That small town feel is eating away at me and I’m ready to snap. The only thing keeping me grounded is the feeling of Melody’s wrist in my hand.
“Don’t listen to them, they’re just miserable bitches with nothing better to do but try and bring someone else down,” I say to Melody, pushing past the small group.
To Melody’s credit, she seems to be completely unaffected by the heckling. Or just really good at pretending.
“You good?” I ask once we’ve made it outside.
“Yeah. Let’s just get home.”
So, I do just that.
17
MELODY
It’s cold as hell out and I wish I brought a jacket. Thankfully, we don’t have far to walk. Especially since Chase must be freezing in those short shorts. I don’t know what I was thinking coming here, hoping to get someone to notice me just so I can get Chase out of my mind? Stupid. I know better than to need any guy’s attention or approval.
“So, what happened to your hand?” I ask trying to fill the silence.
He looks down at his hand as if he just now remembered it looks busted. “I punched a hole in our wall.”
“Oh.” I feel my eyebrows raise in surprise.
“I got some news about my mom’s case. The detective in charge is officially closing it. I mean I’ve heard rumblings that they were going to, and honestly, I think they fucked it up.”
“Can I ask what you think happened?”
He pauses for a moment, like he’s warring if he should tell me or not.
“I think my dad had something to do with it.”
“Why is that?”
He breathes out heavily, a small puff of air materializing before him into a wispy vapor, escaping up into the night. “He was the one that had the most to benefit from her death. They say to follow the money, and he has it now. And he doesn’t need her approval anymore. He took over the company. He took over the accounts. The only thing he can’t touch is my trust. But everything else my mom worked for? It’s all his. And no one will listen to me. I feel like I’m screaming into a void, and the void just laughs at me.”
The way he talks sounds like this has been eating at him for a while. He tells it to me like he expects me to tell him he’s crazy and invalidate his feelings. I know all too well what that feels like. Part of the reason I never open up about what I’ve been through is for the same reason. Having disclosed how hurt I was to my mom only resulted in her laughing in my face and calling me too sensitive.
“That has to be rough, thinking your own dad is capable of such evil.”
“Yeah, well. Having to walk around campus in short shorts might top that.”
“They do look uncomfortable. I’m pretty sure your ass crack is eating the fabric because they look even shorter now then when you first put them on.”
“You checking out my ass, princess?”
“No.” I roll my eyes and shove him.
“I know it must be hard not to when I’m wearing these.” He stops walking and bends, twerking his ass at me. I can’t help but bust out laughing at his antics. He’s surprisingly funny.
“You’re insane.”
He jogs over to fall back into step with me. “Maybe, but I think you like it.”
Our building comes into focus. “Fuck this, it’s too cold. Hold onto me,” he says, grabbing me about the waist and hoisting me over his shoulder.
“What the hell, Milford!” I cry out with a surprised laugh as he carries me like a sack of potatoes, running to our building.
