Page 54 of The Right Kind of Wrong

She’d doubted that he would even notice, and she’d been proven right.

Until this morning, they’d all been crammed into a trash bag, with the exception of the few that lived on the threadbare sofa and in her bedroom.

She couldn’t imagine needing—or wanting—them later for warmth, but they’d be incredible to lie against while they looked up at the sky.

It was another unsurprisingly hot day, like most other days in a Texas summer, and she probably would have welcomed the cold hose water except that she was fully clothed.

Which was honestly really stupid of her, now that she thought about it.

But she’d hurried outside in what she’d been wearing to study—a T-shirt and a pair of shorts, not thinking through the implications of the wet cotton drying on her skin.

She hated that feeling, and she picked at her shirt to try to get some relief.

She thought about it for a second, looking back and forth down the tree-lined street to see if there was anyone close by. Underneath her T-shirt, she was wearing a sports bra. It wasn’t like she’d be flashing the neighborhood, she reasoned, tugging at the garment but not removing it.

Plus, most people were already over at the festival, so the streets were relatively quiet in the late afternoon.

Making a decision, she pulled off her shirt and threw it in the grass, a safe distance away from what she hoped would be a relatively contained water spray. Then, she picked the hose back up and started filling the soapy bucket that she’d brought outside with her.

If she worked quickly, she’d be able to clean the truck and have it dry in time for when they were set to leave, which was in about an hour.

After the bucket was filled, she pulled the hose closer to the truck bed. The gate of the truck bed unlatched with a groan, so that she could turn the spray on it and clean out the dirt and grime that had made a home there in the month that she’d owned the vehicle.

Blake glanced over at the house next door, ignoring the scowl that she knew was on her face.

Denny’s truck was parked outside of Monroe’s house, but Monroe’s SUV wasn’t in her driveway. Blake tried not to let that bother her. Honestly.

What she’d said yesterday had been true. She didn’t want to be weird and possessive over who Monroe spent her time with, even as a little voice in the back of her mind made aggrieved sounds. Her displeasure was clear, even if she didn’t voice it.

But that’s what thoughts were for, anyway. She couldn’t help how she felt, only what she acted on.

Plus, Monroe had made it clear that Denny was just a friend.

Blake chastised herself again. Monroe was a lesbian. Had made it a point to come out to Blake, in fact. She wasn’t interested in Denny like that.

So why did Blake still feel this uncomfortable, squirmy feeling whenever Monroe mentioned him?

Maybe it was because Blake didn’t understand what it would feel like to be a lesbian.

Yeah, that had to be it.

That made sense to her, and it allowed her the smallest sense of comfort as she continued to spray out the truck bed, now unbothered as the water splashed back onto her shoulders and chest.

Let it be said, she definitely wasn’t a homophobe. Even in her mind, she wanted to make that explicitly clear. Maybe it wasn’t what the church taught or what had been instilled in her since birth—that every girl dreamed of growing up and marrying a handsome man—but she’d been doing a lot of work lately on separating what was expected of her from what her own truth actually was.

Hell, what her own opinions were, even.

And that was normal, right? To be thinking about it at all?

If for no other reason, it would help her understand where Monroe was coming from, so that Blake could better connect with her.

Her thoughts continued to wander as she focused on her task at hand, the sun finally dipping lower in the sky.

For the sake of understanding Monroe. To show up for her as a good friend.

Why those sentences kept repeating on a loop were none of her business, she decided. Her brain was clearly fried from all the work she’d done earlier.

But still, she couldn’t let it go.