The Trouble With Before (11 page)

“I’m not her type. I think she likes older guys,” I whisper in her ear, and that gets a little laugh out of her.

“Well, she’s definitely yours,” she purrs as she lets my finger slide inside her. “Tall, blond, pretty.” Her breathing changes.

“I like my girls with a little more edge to them,” I say, rubbing my finger across the piercing she has right on her clit.

She gasps.

“I think you’re more attracted to her than I am,” I joke.

She rolls her eyes but gives in to my assault on her lips. “I trust you, Aidan,” she says between kisses.

“And you know if you ever cheated on me, I’d cut off your dick and throw it in the ocean.”

My cock twitches, and I wonder if it’s because of how turned on I am or it’s in fear for its life.

I
HAVE HEARD
some pretty disgusting things in my life, but hearing Aidan’s girlfriend—or whoever she is, he didn’t quite explain—moan and scream his name for hours into the night is pretty high up there. God, I don’t know how Grams lives with this. Then I remember Grams isn’t here. That’s probably the only reason Psycho Barbie is here. I remember Hillary very well from our introduction, and even better from Lauren describing her fly-off-the-handle best friend. Of course she’d be Aidan’s type, since he attracts crazies like shit attracts flies. When she opened the door, if my feet weren’t so cold I would have jumped off the banister because of how ready she looked to take a swing at me.

I look around the room that used to be my getaway from real life when I got back from college and before I landed my first real job. Staying with Evie after being gone four long years was hell, and I never really quite adjusted to it.

Everything looks just as it did when I used to crash here. Aidan would open the door, usually hungover or just coming in from his overnight shift at the plant before it got shut down, and I’d head up and take a nap or eat some of Grams’s famous fried chicken while she talked about wanting her favorite and only grandson to settle down. A small grin spreads across my face at the memory, and my stomach promptly growls, reminding me that I only had an overcooked hamburger and dry French fries last night.

Still, after everything that happened, what surprised me the most was . . . Aidan. He wasn’t really the Aidan I expected, aside from him wanting to go and kick Jack’s ass—I’m actually regretting stopping him, since I have absolutely no clothing—but Aidan mostly just sat there and listened and let me cry on his shoulder. I didn’t expect that. I don’t know what I really expected from him. Even as I walked up the steps to his house, I didn’t know what he’d say or do. I figured he’d give me a night to get my bearings together, but to let me stay almost indefinitely? That shocked me.

What shocked me even more was that after he showed me to this room, he told me I wasn’t a whore. If someone had bet me yesterday that Aidan would tell me I wasn’t a whore, I’d have lost the little life savings I have.

I trip down the stairs and into the kitchen, reminding myself to give Aidan money for groceries. When I round the corner and see Hillary standing at the half-opened fridge and drinking orange juice, I start to turn back around and leave. Before I can, she turns toward me, looking just as uncomfortable as I am.

“Hey.” She sounds chipper.

“Hi,” I answer, returning the same enthusiasm.

“There’s nothing much here that’s not frozen. There’s some old people cereal in the pantry.” She giggles, so I laugh.

I eye the box on the counter. As hungry as I am, I’d eat a bowl of raw eggs at this point. She grabs the milk out of the fridge, so I grab two bowls and two spoons and set them on the table. We sit quietly and reach for the Splenda to try to drown the dry bran flakes’ flavor.

After a few awkward minutes, she clears her throat. “I’m sorry about yesterday, the whole me opening the door and almost attacking you thing.” She laughs, and I can’t help but smile.

I chuckle, feeling the tension settle a little bit. “Yeah, you kind of scared the crap out of me.”

“I’m not usually that crazy. Aidan just kind of makes me that way,” she says.

I nod. I never thought of the fact that the girls he deals with become crazy after him. Maybe
he’s
the cause.

“How long do you think you’re staying for?” she asks, her eyes surveying me.

“Um, I don’t know yet.” I wonder if Aidan told her what’s happened to me. I feel as though she has so much more information on me than I have on her. Lauren had to have told her about everything that happened last year, but did Aidan tell her what I told him last night? How close are they?

She laughs at herself. “I’m so nosy. Forgive me.”

“How long are
you
staying?” I ask, and she seems caught off guard. Her expression immediately shows that she doesn’t live here, and I inwardly let out a sigh of relief.

I hope that question didn’t come off as catty, because I’m really not trying to be. I’m just curious. She’s the first girl I know of that Aidan’s let come to Grams’s house, and I wonder about the girl who has transfixed the unattainable Aidan. She’s beautiful, there’s no question about that. I can’t even attribute it to makeup or trumped up clothes. Her face is completely symmetrical, she has lips like Angelina Jolie, and her confidence is off the charts. But Aidan has gone through more beautiful women than I can count.

“Oh well, I planned on leaving later today. I have to get back to work,” she answers quickly.

Her eyes narrow on me again, and I look down at my cereal. I don’t have enough energy for a stare-off.

“Look, I don’t want things to be awkward between us,” she blurts out, obviously more uncomfortable with the silence than the forced, awkward conversation.

I let a genuine smile spread across my face. I hate awkward silences and would rather say almost anything to avoid those pauses.

“Aidan told me that you’re like his best friend and he’d never look at you that way so I’m completely cool with you staying here,” she gushes, and I scratch my head. “I-I think it’d be cool if we could be friends . . .”

I rub the back of my neck. “Friends?”

She nods.

“You-Lauren-you do know who I am?”

She nods again. I assumed from the way Aidan said my name last night and how her face contorted into a twisted shock of recognition, she knows exactly who I am.

She throws her hands up in surrender. “Look, I’m the last person to judge anyone.”

Now I know without a doubt that she knows what happened with all of us.

“I’m super curious about it actually,” she admits, and my eyes widen. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me now or anything, but . . . how does something like that happen? I mean, Mr. Scott is hot for an older guy, but you had Chris right there—”

When she stops suddenly, I glance behind me. Thankfully Aidan’s strolling into the kitchen with a glare that tells her silently to shut up.

“Morning, Leese,” he grumbles through a yawn, nodding at me. He gives her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Morning, babe,” she responds cheerfully.

“I bet you’re starving since Grams isn’t here,” I tell him, and he nods dramatically.

“I never realize how much I miss her until she’s gone.” He pouts like he used to when we were twelve, and he rubs his stomach.

I chuckle as Hillary glances between us as if she’s trying to figure out what to make of us and if I’m really a threat.

“So what were you girls talking about?” he asks, eyeing Hillary.

“Just girl stuff,” she replies, waving him off. “I can leave a pair of extra clothes here for you when I leave, Leese. Well, except the underwear because that’d be kind of gross.” She giggles.

I notice she’s picked up Aidan’s nickname for me. I actually hate it, but he’s called me that forever. For her to say it, it sounds like nails on a chalkboard. But I swallow the need to tell her that. Hopefully she’ll be gone soon.

“She actually hates that name. Just call her Lisa,” Aidan says.

I fight away a smile.

Hillary’s eyes shoot daggers at him for a split second, but surprisingly she smiles it off. “Oh, sorry.”

Aidan looks between us and rolls his eyes. “We’re going to get her clothes later on today.” He pours the bland cereal into his mouth straight from the box, successfully changing the subject.

“No, we’re not,” I say quickly.

He finishes the mouthful. “Yeah, we are. They’re not keeping your shit.”

“Why don’t you want to go get your clothes?” Hillary asks.

“Because my stepdad’s a prick,” I mutter as I take my bowl to the sink and empty it.

“I’ll swing by and pick them up after I drop Hillary at the bus station,” he says.

“No!” I tell him, and he frowns. “I don’t know if Jack will be there, and if he is, he’s going to say something that will make you want to smash his face in. Since Grams is out of town and I’m pretty much broke, you’ll be in jail with no one to bail you out.”

He stares at me stubbornly. Those blue eyes could slice through ice, but I don’t relent.

“Hey, I can leave her my things. What are you, size four, right?” Hillary interrupts our standoff.

“I-I couldn’t ask you to do that,” I tell her, a little surprised at her offer.

She shrugs it off as if it’s not a big deal. “It’s not much. Just a few pairs of jeans and tanks.”

“How much stuff did you bring?” Aidan blurts out.

I give him a “I can’t believe you just asked that” look. He gives me an “I’m Aidan and I never think before I speak” look back.

“Relax, I wasn’t trying to move in with you and the little woman or anything. I just over pack,” Hillary responds with a twinge of bitterness in her voice.

They glare at each other a brief second.

“Still,” I relent. Walking around in Aidan’s house wearing his semi girl friends clothes is weird.

“Trust me, I know what it’s like to not want to deal with parents,” she says, for the first time offering me a genuine smile.

“Okay. Thank you,” I say.

She hops up from the table, gives Aidan’s shoulder a loving squeeze, and leaves the room. Aidan turns toward me and smiles tightly. Uh oh, I know that look. He looks as if he’s in a closet with claustrophobia closing in on him.

“I-I don’t know why she brought that many clothes for an overnight trip,” he whisper-shouts to me.

“Relax, she’s a girl. We over pack for everything,” I assure him, though I’m sure she planned on leaving things around to make sure whoever she imagines Aidan brings here would see them.

“So how are you feeling?” he asks, and I shrug.

“As good as a girl who gets kicked out of her house twice in less than two weeks can,” I kid.

He leans forward, putting his weight on his elbows. “I meant about the other thing.”

“Oh, umm good. Nothing special to report.” I laugh, and he frowns at me. For the first time since I saw him in California, I feel nervous.

Hillary comes back with three camisoles, all various shades of black, and three pair of jeans and two oversized night shirts, all items that I would have bought myself. Aidan’s eyes go a little wider at the inventory of clothing she hands me.

“All yours,” she sings.

“Thank you again. I really appreciate it.”

“What’s your problem?” she asks Aidan.

“Nothing,” he says in the way that guys do when
everything
is wrong but they don’t want to talk about it. “I’m going to hit the shower.”

After he leaves Hillary and me alone, she rolls her eyes. “Ugh! What is his problem?”

The old me would have told her what his problem was, but the new Lisa that I’m working on being is learning to mind her own business, especially since if he kicks me out, I’ll be in motel hell for who knows how long.