One Week Girlfriend (One Week Girlfriend, #1)(52)
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “We got in a huge fight and he dropped me off here not even an hour ago. We were supposed to go out tonight.”
God, I really don’t want her here. I wish she would go out and leave me alone, leave me with my thoughts. Owen would come back for pizza but I want to hang out with him. “Maybe you should call Larry and tell him you’re sorry.”
“Why do you think it’s my fault?”
Because it always is? “Maybe you should take the initiative and apologize even if it’s not your fault.” Now it’s my turn to shrug.
Mom taps her lips with her index finger, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket. “Not a bad idea. I’m calling him.”
She walks back into her bedroom, her phone to her ear. “Hey, baby. It’s me,” I hear her say as she slowly closes the door.
I remain where I’m standing long after she’s gone. Thinking of Drew. Where is he, what is he doing? Is he okay? I’m sick with worry and I hate feeling this way. I wish he hadn’t shut me out. I wish he would let me in.
But wishes are for fools.
Drew
After I drop Fable off at her place, I drive around town for an hour, taking in the familiar, comforting sights. This small town where I’ve spent the last three years feels far more like home than where I grew up ever will.
Of course, my hometown is tainted mostly with bad memories, save those few days with Fable.
I drive past the campus, the stadium where I spend the majority of my time, and it’s all pretty much abandoned. I drive through downtown, past the shops, the corner cafes and the Starbucks, slowing some as I drove past La Salle’s, which looks quiet. Considering it’s not even six o’clock, that’s no surprise. Plus the students aren’t really back in town yet. That’ll all happen tomorrow.
The rain stills falls steadily and when I realize I’ve been driving for well over an hour with no destination in mind, I finally end up at my apartment building. It’s on the opposite side of town from Fable’s, I live in the newer part, the better part. Where the neighborhoods are quiet and the yards are perfect. Not like the crowded, older neighborhoods that are overrun with young, loud college students since the rent rates are so cheap. I bet my apartment is twice the size of hers and I only have one bedroom. Shit, I’m the only one living there while she has her mom and her brother, all three of them trying their best to keep it together…
I hammer my fist against the steering wheel once. Then again, ignoring the pain that radiates across my knuckles, shoots through my hand. My coach would kill me if he saw me right now, trying to f*ck up my throwing hand. Imagining his anger makes me hit the steering wheel yet again, and my fist is throbbing by the third punch.
But the pain feels good. Raw and real, reminding me of who I am, what I am. My life looks easy, so damn easy. Everything I’ve ever wanted has been handed to me on a silver platter. I’m a spoiled as hell rich kid who should be living the life. Bragging to my so-called friends, living high in my huge apartment, strutting around campus with a girl under each arm because I’m the one they call the hero, who’s saved our football team these last two seasons.
My world…is a world of shit. What Adele confessed has left me in f*cking shock. I drove pretty much the entire way home without saying a word. Neither did Fable. I feel like shit for acting like that, but what could I do? Make small talk with her, chat about the weather and our favorite music and oh, the fact that my stepmom just told me my sister really isn’t my sister at all, but my daughter?
My life is a total soap opera. I don’t know how to handle it. I don’t know if I believe Adele. She’s lied before. She always lies. Maybe she was trying to shock me. Disgust my girlfriend so badly Adele thought she could drive Fable away. My girl is more stubborn than that.
Besides, I know exactly how to drive her away and tune her out. I’ve become a pro at it these last few days.
That realization fills me with regret.
Unable to stand my out of control thoughts any longer, I call Adele while still sitting in my truck in the parking lot, the rain tapping a steady rhythm on the roof.
“Andrew.” Adele answers on the second ring, and she sounds surprised to hear from me. She should be.
“Tell me you were lying.” The words rush out and I squeeze my eyes closed, waiting—and dreading—her answer.
She’s quiet for a moment. I can hear soft music playing in the background, like she’s at a restaurant or something. I wonder if she’s with my dad. I hope like hell she excused herself so he doesn’t hear what she’s saying. “I wasn’t lying. She belonged to you.”
I blow out a harsh breath, my lungs feeling like they’re folding in on themselves, they’re so tight. “How do you know?”
“God, Andrew, it’s the same old story, you know? Your father and I…we tried for years to have a child, but with no success. The idea came to me one day that you might be the perfect candidate. The next best thing, so to speak, and you were. I planned my visits to you according to my cycle, poked a few holes in the condom and it was a near-instant success.” Her voice is hushed, but she sounds so damn logical about it, I want to scream.
Bile rises in my throat and I swallow it down. I was f*cking sixteen years old when I got this bitch pregnant. Only sixteen. “So you tricked me. And my father. You’ve played us both. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”