Losing Me, Finding You(57)

Other. Whether it's all about sex or not, something about Amy Cross calls to me, and I believe, really, really believe that I could fall head over heels for this girl.



Chapter 41

Austin sneaks out again after our … goodness, I don't know what to call it … our session. You called him Master, I chastise myself, flushing neon red in the privacy of my soapy, bubbly shower. I blame the books, but maybe it was really just me. Maybe I'm just as perverted as my favorite fictional characters. Perversion is just another form of art. It's like painting or drawing or sculpting. Except instead of paint, us perverts use sex as our medium. Not Sali Bend this time, but her friend, Brandi Waters, who Sali inevitably corrupts and turns into a raging whore, just like everyone else in the book. Maybe I'm infected, too. Or maybe it was the way Austin tried to play off his brother's death, like he didn't care, like after all these years it was just another old scar like the one on his lip.

I can see right through him.

And I think he wants me to. Somewhere, deep down, I can see that Austin has yet to actually mourn the loss of his brother. It could've happened two years ago or five or ten, if he hasn't mourned, he's never really going to get over it. I wonder if I could help him with that. Sex might not quite do the trick, but if he ever does decide to let his guard down, I'll be waiting.

Then again, I don't know how much good that would do him because I can tell there's something else, too, something that has to do with Triple M as a whole. Top that with the issues that I can see circulating around certain members, and it's no wonder that Austin's gotten so lost. There are so many people and events going on around him that I think he's having trouble finding himself in all of it. Plus, there's definitely something going on with Mireya. If I hadn't gotten that message from her before, the death glare she'd thrown us in the hallway just now was an absolute. She most certainly hates me and wants me dead.

I sigh and finish showering, determined to fall asleep before Austin comes back from wherever it is that he goes, just so I don't have to look him in the eye and hear myself saying it. Master. I guess that's what I get for reading Fifty Shades of Grey a dozen or more times. Naughty, Amy.

Next time, I promise myself, Austin is going to be calling me Mistress. It's only fair, after all. Besides, if he's going to keep disappearing without telling me where he's going, then the least he can do is play into my perversions. He did promise to teach me anyhow. Asshole. As soon as Kimmi knocked on our door, he abandoned me with one foot in the shower and took off with nothing but a kiss to hold me over. Granted, I did touch myself a bit, but the release was nothing like it is when Austin's there to fuel me on.

I dry myself off and crawl into that hotel bed, naked, feeling more at home there than I ever did in my parents' house. The only thing that's bothering me is Christy. I have to find out what's wrong with her. I wonder if I should call her again, but I'm afraid that she'll reject me, that she'll tell me she never wants to see or hear from me. I don't know if I can handle the rejection right now. I touch a hand to my belly. But she's your friend and you owe her to try again. Before I can question myself any further, my hand is creeping out across the nightstand and grabbing the phone, drawing it to me and dialing my best friend's number. I try her home phone instead of her cell this time. It's an old, corded thing, a virtual antique, just like the one we always had at my house. Oh, and it doesn't have a caller ID.

She answers on the first ring.

“Hello, Crandle,” she says cheerfully. I sit up suddenly and the blankets fall off my chest and pool around my naked hips.

“Christy, it's Amy.” I don't let her interrupt me, just in case she hangs up. I want her to know that Crandle Rogers is not good enough for her and that he spent an exorbitant amount of time looking at my tits. If her parents are already trying to pair her up with him, just days after the failed attempt with me, then I know things are bad. He's a perverted bore to be quite frank, and I really, really don't want to see my best friend end up like Joan Jennise, thank you very much. I held my tongue that time. I'll be damned if I'm going to hold it now.

“I know.” She pauses and takes a strange breath, like she's trying to hold back a sniffle.

“What's going on?”

“I had a wonderful time as well, and I'd love to go out again, but I'll have to ask my parents.” She emphasizes the word so strongly that it's now pretty obvious that she's being monitored. I decide to take a deep breath and let it all out, no holds barred, just in case something happens. After all, the beauty of the universe is that you never really know what's going to occur. I could die tomorrow, today even. So could Christy or Austin or whoever. So I seize the moment, and I hold onto it as hard as I can.

“I love you, and I miss you, and I'm sorry. I was going to tell you that I had sex with Austin, but I didn't know how. I thought you were hiding something from me, too, so I justified the lie. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

“I can,” she says cheerfully, her voice forced and ridiculously false. “And I am.” I'm just waiting for her mother to snatch the phone away and start shouting at me. “How ever did you know?”

“It still doesn't justify what I did, but if you want to tell me, I'm here.”

“I do, absolutely. In fact, I couldn't possibly think of anything better, Crandle. How nice of you to ask.”