I automatically wait for the banging on the wall we share with Mrs. Rosenthal to start, but nothing comes. Maybe she’s asleep? Or gone to the grocery store? Or dead in her apartment? There’s no telling, but I’ll take the rare win, because last time we broke a dish—and bywe, I meanme—she called the police, telling them Talia and I were fighting and to please hurry. The police responding to the call had been really confused when it was only me at home, with nobody to fight with but my own butterfingers and the ramen-noodle-covered floor.
Like the calm, cool, collected medical professional she is, Talia is completely nonplussed by the shards of bowl, despite being barefoot, and is staring at the now almost-full mug of coffee beneath the dripping filter. “I will fight you to the death for this, so don’t try me.”
She’s not kidding. Never get between a shift worker and their caffeine. You’ll end up needing medical attention, and you’d best not need it from the person you prevented from getting their dose of javabecause you’d be shit out of luck. Their motto is “no mercy,” and they can hold grudges better than the Furies.
“Go ahead,” I offer graciously, “just slip another mug under there for me while I clean this up.”
She happily does, and while I clean up the broken dish, she takes a deep draw of what’s now her coffee and sighs. “Sorry for scaring you,” she says after the caffeine hits her. “What were you laughing at?”
It’s what she asked in the first place, and I kinda hoped she would’ve forgotten with the shattering dish, but no such luck.
“Nothing, just something Layla said.” I shrug like it’s no big deal, not worth talking about or even mentioning again, as I dump the remains of the bowl into the trash.
She thankfully takes that at face value and doesn’t dig deeper.Go me!“Hawks win?”
“Yeah. Friday’s and Saturday’s games.”
“Dom and Honey do their thingy?” She’s nothing if not precise about the ins and outs of hockey.
“Yep. Teamwork makes the dream work.”
“You fuck Griffin yet?”
My jaw falls open, and I stare at her, stunned into absolute silence. And then I get my brain firing on enough cylinders to refute that ridiculous idea. “There is no fucking here. Griffin or otherwise!” I realize that she wasn’t asking questions about the game because she gives a damn but rather was trying to set me off-kilter enough to answer off the cuff, without even attempting to lie, and I walked right into her trap. Luckily, there wasn’t anything to tell, otherwise, we’d be having an entirely different conversation now.
Behind her mug, I see Talia’s lips tilt up ever so slightly. “Pity. Let me know when you do.”
I snort out a laugh, aiming for offended and landing somewhere closer topshaw, nuh-uh. “Nothing is going on with me and Griffin. I swear you and Layla must be comparing notes. He just feels bad about the ring getting stolen and is scared Dom will blame him like I did,”I explain in exasperation. “Do?” I correct myself, but then admit the truth. “Did.” I don’t blame him anymore. It was just bad luck, and if anything, that’s my all-too-familiar territory.
“That’s what Layla said that had you chuckling to yourself? Something about Griffin?” She nods like that makes perfect sense. I stare at her because it doesn’t. “Pen, if he hated you, he’d take pleasure in your pain, but he’s not doing that, is he?” She doesn’t wait for my answer, steamrolling ahead to plead her case. “No, he spent a whole day running around town to pawnshops with you. And he’s not scared of Dom. Griffin’s bigger, meaner, and more violent than your brother could ever be.”
She’s wrong. And so is Layla. Not about the bigger, meaner, more violent part, because that’s true, but the rest of it, totally off base.
But all that gardening they’re doing, planting those little seeds of doubt, is slowly working. “But he always acts like I’m a brat that annoys him, like he wishes I wasn’t invading his time with Dom.”
“Boys are stupid. And men are stupider.” She shrugs like that’s some great, deeply sage wisdom, and honestly, in the face of a lifetime of evidence, I can’t argue with her.
“Men can be stupid. But I’m not. I refuse to be one of the puck bunnies who fall at the players’ feet, thinking they’re different from all the others. I have some pride.” Based on last night’s dreams, that’s not true at all, but I’m not going to openly admit to having sexy, slutty dreams about Griffin. Talia would have to pry that secret out of my mouth with copious amounts of alcohol and/or chocolate. Even then, having those fantasies doesn’t mean I’ll act on them.
I’m just confused, that’s all. And probably horny. Maybe I should order a battery buddy off of Amazon to help take the edge off? Or reactivate my dating apps and get back out there? Find a nice, sweet, non-pro athlete guy who likes to talk about the stock market orStar Wars, and can scratch the itch that’s apparently making me susceptible to the slightest kindness from a total asshole. Yeah, that’s a good idea.
I pick up my phone and click into the App Store to download Tinder again.
“Are you texting Griffin to come over for a hookup?” Talia asks hopefully, coming over to stand beside me. When she sees what I’m actually doing, she sighs in disappointment, her eyes rolling hard enough to click in her skull.
“Mom says your face’ll get stuck like that if you keep doing it.” My mother’s never said that, but a mom somewhere did.
“Sometimes what you’re looking for is right in front of you.” Talia pushes the phone down before I can hit reinstall on the white fire logo where I might find my knight in shining armor, or at least a dick without Griffin attached to it.
“Sometimes what’s right in front of me is a jerk with a cute butt and anger management issues,” I correct.
“Sounds hot.”
“Ugh,” I groan. But it has nothing to do with Tinder or Griffin or Talia this time, and everything to do with the notification I just received from my website. I click into my inbox to read the email.
It’s from the same person who messaged before, and reads ...
That ring shouldn’t have been at the antique store. It was a regrettable, accidental mistake. The ring has deep sentimental value and I need it back. Will pay any price. Please.
