Trust(57)

“You’re right—I’m an asshole,” I said, loud enough to include my neighbors in the conversation. FFS. “But to be fair, I’ve never done the sex thing before and you’re really important to me. So maybe can you just cut me a little slack here, please?”

He didn’t turn back to face the dim light from my bedroom, his expression a mystery. “You’re the one that wanted to lose it, Edie. It was all your bright idea. I just wanted you to be safe, to get treated right.”

“I know.”

“Nothing was supposed to change. That was the agreement, remember?”

“Yes,” I said. “But feelings don’t just turn on and off, John.”

A grunt. The boy did that way too much.

“Look, you’re right. I should have talked to you about it instead of going into hiding.”

“Yeah, you should have. You’re important to me too.”

“Thank you.”

“But this is still on you.” Nice to know he had no interest in making this easy. He crossed his arms over his chest. “One way or another, you need to deal with this.”

“How?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Just . . . do whatever it is you need to do to forget about us having sex so we can go back to normal.”

I frowned, tongue playing behind my cheek. “Hold up. Are you suggesting hypnosis or that I sleep with someone else to get over you? I’m confused.”

The most pained sigh of all time. Truly, I felt bad for the boy. “I gotta go. I promised Anders and Hang I’d give them a lift home.”

I said nothing.

“We okay?”

“Yes. We’re fine.” My fibbing skills were off the charts. The CIA or Hollywood or someone would probably be calling for me any day now. “No problem. I promise no more avoiding.”

“Good. Maybe we could hang out tomorrow?”

“Sure.” I half lifted a hand in farewell. “’Night.”





John: What do you feel like doing?

Me: Sick, sorry. A bit of a mess. Talk to you later.



My cell started buzzing. “Hello?”

“Thought we sorted this out,” he said. “You avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“Yes. You are,” he said, voice sharp with tension.

“No, I’m not.” My jaw tightened. “I promised I wouldn’t do that. I’m honestly just not feeling well, John. It happens sometimes.”

“Oh yeah?” he scoffed. “You were fine last night.”

“You’re right. I was fine last night.” The girl in the bathroom mirror scowled back at me, every bit as furious as I felt. “But then blood started gushing from my uterus this morning and now my insides feel like they’ve been twisted into knots. It’s really not pretty.”

A long silence.

“Yeah. The cramps hurt like a bitch, John. So as you might have guessed by now, I’m not in a very good mood,” I said through gritted teeth. “Also, my breasts ache and I kind of want to kill something.”

“Um, okay.”

“Great, glad we could talk this through. ’Bye,” I finished, stabbing at the end call button.

Give me strength. I could have hit something, preferably him. Instead, I’d take two Advil, go back to bed, and feel sorry for myself. In that exact order. It would have been nice to hang out with John and further clear any lingering weirdness. But curling up in fetal position took precedence right now.

A couple of hours later, Mom came wandering in with a curious look on her face and a big white paper shopping bag in hand. “I’m concerned. Any chance you have a creepy yet practical, wealthy secret admirer or stalker you want to tell me about?”

“What?” I sat up, setting aside my book.

“I just found this sitting on the doorstep,” she said, handing the bag over. “Tampons, Midol, and a box of chocolate cupcakes. Unoriginal but quite apt.”

I burst out laughing.

She cocked her head. “Please explain.”

“I scared a boy with my menstrual rage,” I said, going through the contents of the bag. “Though to be fair, he kind of deserved it.”

“Huh.” Her brows remained knitted, her gaze perplexed. “Is he going to be leaving things on the doorstep often? Should I set up a motion sensor camera so I can get a look at him?”

“He’s just a friend, Mom.”

“Yeah, right.” She gave me a look. The look. “Those cupcakes are from the fancy-pants bakery. Not cheap, kid.”

“Yum.” I opened up the box, salivating. “And they’re all for me.”

“I taught you to share—I know I did.” She smiled. “So, what’s his name?”

“Just a friend.”

“Unusual name.”

“Isn’t it?” I passed her a cupcake. “Here.”

“Oh, I shouldn’t,” she said, reaching out a hand. “Just a taste, maybe. You’re not going to tell me about him, huh?”

“There’s nothing to say. We’re just fr—”

“Friends. Yes, I get it.” She took a bite, an expression of bliss crossing her face. “Well, I love him, whoever he is. He already has my approval. These are divine.”