Sure, his marriage with my mom has seemed picture perfect for the past seven years but I thought the same thing when my dad and her were married. I never would’ve guessed that neither of them was happy. That it took therapy and retreats for them to come to the conclusion that they’d have to settle for being just friends who have kids together.
It’s not a terrible setup but it’s not the one I dreamed of when I was a kid.
Amiyah takes the cashmere top from my hands before I can start fiddling with the buttons. I don’t turn to face her, my nails now seemingly more interesting than ever.
“If you give him a chance—”
“Miyah.” I lean my back against the soft cushions behind me, still not daring to look at her because I know when I do, I’ll see her eyes, the same shade as mine and Dad’s. Or I won’t be able to help but notice the way she knows me more than anyone. How when she looks at me, she sees someone who’s frantically trying to pick back up pieces of herself. “We’re civil toward each other, isn’t that enough?”
She’s one of the few people that knows that most of what comes out of my mouth is a lie. No matter how pretty I try to make it sound.
No one needs to know the thoughts that dance around in my head. I’ll happily keep my vulnerabilities to myself, thank you very much.
I feel the weight of her stare. In my peripheral vision, I can see the tilt of her head, the crease between her brows, the way she’s studying me like I’m a book she’s grown up fluent in.
But I can’t take her gaze. Or her accurate knowledge of who I am. So I reach for the cashmere top again, messing with the gold buttons, slipping the fabric over my shoulders—despite it not being my style—and continuing to act like I can spend the rest of my life never talking about anything that really matters.
“Fine.” I walk back over to the mirror. The shirt doesn’t go with my dress so I take it off. It was more of a distraction anyway. “Don’t come to the party but just know that I will be drunk texting you.”
She remains sitting, watching me dig through clothes for a second longer than I’d like before rolling her eyes. An easy smile now takes over her features as if she’s decided to drop whatever it was she wanted to get into.
“Trust me,” she says. “I’m aware.”
It doesn’t take us long after to decide we’re done shopping for the day and it’s time to head out. You know, with me having to get ready for tonight’s frat party and Amiyah’s betrayal of hanging out with Brian rather than me.
I stand near the entrance, waiting for Amiyah to finish checking out. My thumb mindlessly scrolls through my phone, more of a distraction than looking for anything useful. But scrolling on social media usually ends up with me seeing some friends from high school posting about the ballet schools they’ve gotten into and professional shows they’ve been a part of.
I do this to myself. I don’t talk to those people anymore so why I follow them is purely out of self-pity apparently.
“Hey, Stryker.”
I look up from my phone to see Lucas now standing nearby, shoulder leaning against a wall, a pleased look on his face at my clearly disgruntled one.
“For fuck’s sake.” I say the words more to myself but he laughs anyway. “Don’t you have a life outside of stalking me?”
Before I even realize I’m doing it, I drop my phone into my purse, shift my shopping bags into one hand, and give Lucas my full attention. And because I can’t look like I don’t have control over my damn body, I cross my arms and pretend that I intended to engage with Lucas.
It’s only been a few days since I last saw him at the hockey game. I should not be having withdrawals.
He’s just a man,I have to remind myself.
Amiyah comes up behind me, her own bags in her hand. Her eyes shift between me and Lucas, a grin forming that I want to tell her to put away.
She always found my situation with Lucas funny.
Says I should give him a chance.
I wholeheartedly disagree.
“You could act a little more excited to see me, Denise,” Lucas teases.
I scoff, hands moving to now rest on my hips. “I’d rather wake up to find out that my highlights increased my hair porosity than act excited to see you.”
Lucas’s brows furrow, his attention turning to Amiyah. “That a bad thing?”
She quickly nods her head. “Catastrophic.”
I take Amiyah’s wrist, trying to step past Lucas but he follows, apparently not getting the memo that I’m done with conversation.