Birthday Girl(69)

Yeah. It’s that simple.

After a moment, I hear her draw in a calm breath as she reaches over and grabs her seatbelt, fastening it.

I swallow.

“Fright Night is streaming on Netflix,” she says. “Half pepperoni and half taco?”

I break into a smile. Turning to her, I see her blue eyes looking at me with the same easy humor she had when we were cutting watermelon the other night.

I shift the car into gear again and nod. “Call it in,” I tell her. “We’ll pick it up on the way home.”





Jordan



We come to new terms.

I’m a tenant now, essentially, and while the end goal is to live here to save money for my own place eventually, I can’t live off him like I was. Maybe I could’ve made excuses when I was Cole’s girlfriend, but now, this needs to be fair. No matter how much he balks.

“I don’t need your forty bucks a month for the gas bill, Jordan.”

“Then let me pay the electric bill.”

“Why would I tell you to stay here to save money and then ask you to spend more money?”

“I am saving money. And I can keep saving money while paying at least one bill, Pike.”

“Or you could not pay any bills, save even more money, and just be out of here faster.”

And then that pissed me off, like maybe he really didn’t want me here, after all.

“No, wait.” He flinches. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just…I don’t need your money, okay? Let’s stop talking now. Please?”

But we didn’t. We kept bickering until he finally relented and let me have the gas bill and the grocery bill, although he did make me promise to not replace his snacks with anything organic or fat free, to which I agreed. If he catches me sneaking in fair trade coffee and almond milk, I’ll just tell him I forgot.

Taking the broom out to the front porch, I lift up the welcome mat and shake it out before hanging it over the railing. Rain pours down outside like a torrent, and the street looks like the whitewash of ocean waves as the falling raindrops kick up and spatter against the ground.

I wonder how well Pike will be able to see the roads on his way home. It’s still only about one in the afternoon, though, and it’s still light out, although pretty gray, so it might stop raining before he’s off work.

I swipe the broom across the wooden porch, the overhang protecting it from getting wet. The air is balmy and thick, my skin feeling damp even though no rain is hitting me under the awning. My T-shirt sticks to my stomach a little, and I tuck my hair behind my ear because it’s tickling my arms. Looking up, I see Kyle Cramer pulling his BMW into his driveway, covering his head with his briefcase as he dashes to his front porch.

He notices me and flashes a smile. I give a little wave.

I wonder why he and Pike aren’t friendly.

He disappears inside, and I finish cleaning up the tiny amount of dirt and thistles on the porch before laying the welcome mat back down.

In addition to the gas and grocery bill, I’d taken on responsibility for the downstairs of the house: dusting, vacuuming, sweeping, mopping, keeping the kitchen tidy, although he has to do the dishes when I cook, and I only have to do them when he cooks. Which, actually, he hasn’t done at all in the three days since I’ve come back to stay here. I kind of realized at some point over the last few weeks he really only makes meals from the frozen food section in the grocery store—or canned soup and stews—so I’ve just taken over meals completely and he does dishes, and I’m cool with that.

I also do the garden, while he handles the lawn, pool, and sprinklers. Our rooms are our own responsibilities, but I clean my bathroom, and he keeps the basement in order.

Setting up the individual chores was almost too good to be true. I thought for sure he’d flake, and I’d end up cleaning up crap he left in areas that I was tasked with keeping tidy.

But it hasn’t happened. He tosses his boots in the closet after work, picks up the T-shirts he discards if he gets too hot, and I never have to bug him to get his clothes out of the dryer. I realize I’ve never lived with a man who had lived on his own before me.

Until now, that is. Pike’s used to taking care of himself and his things, because there’s no one else to do it for him. It’s like a whole new world.

Walking back in the house, I stick the broom into the closet and head upstairs to sort my dirty clothes. Cole’s old bedroom—our old bedroom—sits vacant, since he hasn’t been back since he left. I’m not sure what he’s been wearing the past few days, and I don’t know if he’s talked to his dad, but one thing is for sure. He’ll be back eventually.

I put up with as much as I did because Cole was a friend and not just a boyfriend. Most girls—if they’re smarter than me, and that wouldn’t be hard, mind you—get tired of deadbeats real fast. Knowing he and Elena probably won’t make it is the only consolation for the hurt. He jumped right out of my bed and into hers, didn’t he?

But maybe he did me a favor. Would I want him back? No. I don’t want to hate him, and I know he’s better than this, but we pushed it, because we needed to grab onto something once upon a time. We forced what wasn’t there, not because we needed each other, but because we needed someone. We were always better friends.

I feel like I can breathe now. And if he has a problem with me being here, I’ll let his dad deal with it.