CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Austin
“It’s so dark downhere. Don’t you leave any lights on?” Scarlett asks. If the thought of going home with a stranger didn’t scare her earlier, maybe it should right now. I wasn’t thinking the night would end up like this, or I would have left the lights on.
“Nah, the moon shows me the way home,” I tell her.
“Well, it’s cloudy out tonight,” she informs me.
“I guess I’ll never find my home tonight then,” I sigh. Scarlett groans then laughs quietly as she keeps up next to me. I carried her half the way home, but the bouncing motion was stirring up the tequila, and with another minute or so of that, things might not have ended well tonight. “Are you still feeling buzzed?”
“A bit,” she says. “So, is it the tequila, or do I see a small glowing light at the end of this path?”
“If it’s from the tequila, I’m more buzzed than I thought too.” I do see a small light.
“That makes no sense, Austin. Nothing in the tequila would cause a glowing light,” she says. Oh boy. Yeah, she’s buzzed.
“I was kidding,” I tell her.
“But there is a light,” she confirms.
We’re walking up the path to my front steps and I’m pretty sure we’re looking at the glow from a cell phone. “Who’s up there?” I shout.
“Just me,” I hear. Shit. Why does she have to keep doing this? I have told her a million times to call if she needs something. There is no reason to show up and wait for me on the front steps like some psychopath. At least she isn’t inside tonight—so there’s that.
“Who is it?” Scarlett asks.
“No one,” I tell her. “No one who should be sitting on my front steps right now.”
“Aww, you finally brought your new friend home with you. I was beginning to wonder if those rumors were true or not,” she says.
Scarlett seems hesitant to walk any further, so I run ahead past dumbass, open my front door, and flip the porch lights on.
“Laurie-Cate?” Scarlett questions.
“Hi, sweet-pea,” she says, cheerfully. Sweet-pea? She’s trying to smooth Scarlett over like butter, and it ain’t happening. “Austin, we need to talk.” Laurie-Cate stands up and clasps her hands in front of her waist.
“Uh, do you want me to leave? I don’t want to be in the way,” Scarlett offers.
“No, don’t go anywhere,” Austin says.
“Maybe sheshouldgo,” Laurie-Cate says.
Scarlett, being one of the least passive women I have met in my lifetime, meets up with us on the front porch. “Okay, so is there something going on here that I should know about? I’m not the type to get in the middle … if you know what I mean.”
I don’t know where Scarlett was going with that or if she knows how it sounded, but part of me wants to laugh because I know the tequila and rum are still impacting her thought processes.
“Say what you have to say, and get on your way, Laurie-Cate,” I tell her, ignoring Scarlett’s question.
“It’s a family matter that I don’t believe she needs to be a part of,” Laurie-Cate replies.
“I don’t give a damn what it’s about,” I argue.
“Seriously, are you two an item or something?” Scarlett asks. “Or were you?”
“Yes,” Laurie-Cate responds before I do.
“What?” I snap. “Cut the shit, Laurie-Cate.”
