“You don’t have any collections today.” He points out.
“Well, no, but—”
“When was the last time you took a spontaneous day off?”
“I haven’t,” I watch him fill the bottle with hot water, screwing up the top tightly before he rights the fluffy cover and walks back toward me.
“Neither have I,” he jerks his chin toward the couch, “And I think we should.”
“But the shop…”
“I’ll run down and put up a sign for you.”
“Don’t you have meetings?”
“I can reschedule.”
“Why are you doing this?” I haven’t moved, so he guides me with a gentle hand, pushing me down onto the couch. He yanks off the blanket and puts it over my legs and then places the hot water bottle against my stomach, the warmth seeping through the t-shirt.
“Let me take care of you, cricket,” he softens. “Please.”
I go to argue, but something in his face, the way he’s pleading with his eyes, has me snapping my mouth closed.
“Okay,” I answer after a beat, “But I do actually need to put up a sign.”
“I’ll do that,” he grins, his eyes sparking, “but first, food.”
Chapter Eighteen
We spend the day curled up on the couch, the TV playing, but neither of us paid it much attention. We’ve spent the time talking about nothing and everything, and it took me back to the days when life was simpler. When all we needed to worry about was getting up in the morning in time to catch the school bus and complaining about homework.
I almost miss it, even though back then the type of life I have now wasn’t even a thought. I remember a day spent just like this, except we’d skipped school rather than work.
Rain pours from dense gray clouds, a wind whipping through the trees that surround the abandoned trailer Sid and I had somehow stumbled across years ago. No one comes out here, and the two of us had claimed it as our own. Cleaned it up and brought along pillows and blankets to cover the old, dusty furniture that had been left behind.
We always worry someone will come across it and report it, and one day we’ll find it gone, but that has yet to happen.
Sid reaches down and switches on the rope lights she had hung up all around the space, illuminating our little makeshift den and washing it in gold. It’s easy to pretend it isn’t some piece of shit trailer when we’ve both worked hard to make it a second home of sorts for us, although it’s probably more for me than it is for Sid. It’s no secret I have a shitty home life. No dad and a mom who would rather get high than put food on the table.
I haven’t told Sidney, but I’ve lost count of how many nights I’ve stayed in this trailer, if only to save myself the pain of seeing Mom passed out on the couch after her binge. It smells like Sidney in here, has her mark all over it, and with her is the only place I’d rather be.
I think I’ve loved my best friend from the moment I made her jump in the hallway at school.
She pulls the cans of soda from her backpack and places them on the table, along with all the snacks, a twinge of guilt twisting up my stomach. I never bring anything.
Sidney never complains, because of course she doesn’t. She’s all things good and pure, and light. Much too good for me.
“This is terrifying,” she giggles, cracking open one of the cans before she leans back on the cushions and grins at me. My heart twists at the sight. My favorite thing in the whole damn world is that smile. It lifts up her cheeks and crinkles the corners of her eyes.
“Why?” I laugh. “Never played hooky before?”
“No!” She sips her drink. “Mom’ll kill me if she ever finds out.”
We’re in senior year and it really shouldn’t surprise me that she’s never ditched school before. I used to do it all the time, but Mom never cared, so I had no reason to stop. Well, I didn’t until I met Sid. She’s the only reason I got my grades back on track and actually started to take school seriously.
“It’s our little secret,” I wink at her.
“Here,” she places her soda down and pulls her scrapbook from her bag, “I added to it.”
