Read The Trouble With Flirting Online

Authors: Rachel Morgan

Tags: #happily ever after, #Humor, #musician, #sweet NA, #Romance, #The Trouble Series, #mature YA, #Love, #comedy, #nerd

The Trouble With Flirting (15 page)

BOOK: The Trouble With Flirting
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Stop. Don’t think about that. Just walk.

The rain, which was a light drizzle up until now, begins to fall faster. Shivers raise the hairs on my skin. I wrap my bare arms around myself and hurry as quickly as I can in these stupid shoes. I’m damp and cold and tired, and I can’t tell anymore if the drops running down my face are rain or tears or both. How much longer till I reach home? Two minutes? Maybe a bit—

Are those footsteps behind me?

Frack! Please let there not be anyone there. Please please please.

I don’t want to look behind me. I need to move faster. I need to run.

Take the shoes off. You’ll go faster if—No time! Just run!

My heeled feet pound the uneven sidewalk. Sobs escape my lips. I’m only four houses away from my own now, but I keep expecting to feel a hand on my arm, or someone grabbing my waist, or—

“Oh!” My right ankle twists as the heel of my shoe snaps. My flailing hands grasp at the air, catching onto the diamond shapes of a wire fence. I half-fall awkwardly onto my left knee, but it’s my right ankle that’s screaming at me. I look over my shoulder, but I don’t see anyone there. Did I imagine the footsteps?

I kick my shoes off, grab my fallen purse, and use the fence to pull myself up. I hobble the rest of the way on bare feet, wincing and shivering and sniffing. I tug the gate open and slide it shut behind me, then stumble over to the broken motor and flip the switch off manual. I do
not
want whoever’s out there to walk through this gate as easily as I did. I don’t know if I imagined those footsteps, but I’m not taking a chance.

I pull myself up the front steps and lean against the door, keeping my weight off my throbbing ankle as I remove my keys from my purse. I can’t see properly and my fingers are shaking and I can’t get the key into the lock and I’m about to start banging my fists on the door to wake Luke up—but then the key slides in. The door’s unlocked. I’m inside. The door’s closed.

I’m safe.

I collapse against the door, covering my eyes with my hand as I shake with silent tears.

And then I hear something I didn’t expect to hear. Voices. And laughter. Freaking heck. Who the hell is chilling in our lounge? Luke doesn’t ever invite people over, and Adam’s still at work. Isn’t he? No. That’s definitely Adam’s laugh I just heard.

DAMMIT! Why is he home? And why did he have to bring people with him? Why
now
? I can’t get anywhere in this house without walking past the lounge door, and whoever is in there does
not
need to see me like this. A hobbling, shoeless, dripping wet mess.

Maybe if I can get past quietly and quickly enough, they won’t notice me.
Right. Quietly and quickly. With a twisted ankle.

I try anyway. I tell myself not to look up as I pass the door, but my eyes flick upwards anyway, just long enough to see Adam, his friend Hugo, the petite drummer girl from
The Flying Monkey Train
, and another girl I don’t recognise. Then I’m past the doorway. It only took about a second, but a lull in conversation tells me I was spotted.

“Livi?” Adam calls out, his voice suddenly anxious.

Crap.
I hobble faster. My ankle screams some more. I make it to my room and slam the door shut.

A second later, Adam taps against it. “Livi, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I shout.

“Are you sure? You, uh, didn’t really look fine.”

I press my lips together and decide not to answer. I don’t think I can say anything without my voice coming out wobbly.

“Livi?”

Just go away, just go away.

“Liv, please. What happened?”

I don’t want to talk about it.

“Alivia, come on. You’re scaring me.” And he does sound scared. Helpless. Which is how I feel. “I’m coming in,” he says.

The door opens, but I can’t meet his eyes. I stare at the floor. At my dirty, wet feet. At the graze I didn’t realise was on my knee. I wish he wasn’t seeing this. I wish he wasn’t standing there knowing he’s been right all along.

“Liv,” Adam breathes. “What happened?”

“Say it,” I whisper.

“What?”

“Say it!” I shout, still looking down. “Say that you told me so. Say that I should never have gone. Say that you were right.”

“I—I don’t—Livi, are you hurt? Did someone … do something to you?”

I shake my head and wrap my arms around myself. “He didn’t
do
something. He
tried
to do something, and if he ever
tries
to do it again, I’ll break his fracking hands. Not that he’ll have an opportunity to try anything in the future, because I don’t plan to go near him ever again.”

Silence from Adam. Then he steps out of my room and walks away. I feel relieved, but empty. I hear the bathroom tap turning on, and moments later, Adam returns to my room with a towel. He tentatively places it over my shoulders. I take hold of the edges and pull it around me.

“You, um, look cold,” he says. “I thought maybe you’d want to bath. I’ll run the water, then you can go, uh, when you’re ready. But maybe you should put ice on your ankle first. I’ll get some.”

He hurries away, leaving me trying to remember if I said anything about my ankle. Maybe he saw me hobbling. Maybe my right foot looks fatter than my left foot.

By the time Adam returns with ice blocks wrapped in a tea towel, I’m sitting on the floor.

“I know you don’t really want to feel ice when you’re already so cold, but … it’ll help.”

“Your friends,” I whisper as he fits the ice pack around my ankle. “I’m so embarrassed.”

Adam forces a laugh. “Don’t worry about them. They didn’t really see much.”

“I’m sorry I ruined your date.”

“My—what?” Adam looks alarmed.

“You said Hugo liked that drummer girl. And there’s another girl here. I thought maybe … a double date.”

“Oh. No, no, no. We finished up earlier than we expected at
Jazzy Beanbag
because
The Electric Goat
turned out to be awful. So we came back here for a bit, but just as, like, a friend thing. Anyway, they’re on their way now. So … I’ll go finish running the bath. Then when you’re done, I’ll be in my room. If you want to talk. Or if you want to chill and watch series. Or if you just want to go to bed, that’s fine too.”

“Adam?” I catch his hand as he stands to leave. “Thank you.”

From:
Alivia Howard

Sent:
Sat 5 Apr, 1:26 am

To:
Carl

Subject:
Dear Carl

I miss you. If I asked, would you come and rescue me?

___________________________________

From:
Alivia Howard

Sent:
Sat 5 Apr, 15:17 pm

To:
Sarah Henley

Subject:
This is my moping face

Dear Sarah

Thanks for your call this morning. I should have known Adam would send you an SOS on my behalf! Once again, I’m really sorry for not coming home this holiday. I just can’t face my dad at the moment, and I think it might be better for him and my mom to have some time to work through things without me there. They have an appointment with a counsellor on Wednesday. My mom keeps threatening to not show up, but I think, in the end, she’ll go.

I shall now do my best to follow your instruction to NOT MOPE. As you know, I’ve never been particularly good at moping, so NOT MOPING should be easy. No doubt I’ll find a distraction soon enough … Oh! Squirrel! (That was meant to be a distraction joke, but it’s kinda funny because Cape Town actually does have a lot of squirrels. Are you laughing? You’re not laughing? Okay. I chuckled. A real chuckle. But then, I’m not in the healthiest state of mind right now, so that could have been a crazy chuckle.)

My new problem: I now have a total of zero girlfriends in this city, which means that if I’m looking for a distraction, I may be forced to drag Adam to the mall with me for some retail therapy. Or perhaps not. The mall is where I’m most likely to come across Allegra, who, being the wonderful person that she is, may try to feed drugs to me again.

How did I manage to lose my friends, my boyfriend, and my popularity status in one night? (I’m not entirely certain about the popularity status, but I think it probably shattered into hundreds of pieces along with the glass table I pushed Jackson into.)

Wait, I think that paragraph counts as moping …

Adam just came in and said I should go to the gym with him and Luke. Apparently endorphins will make me happy. Ugh, I’d rather pull my toenails out than exercise. No, wait, that sounds really painful. I don’t hate exercise that much.

Okay, I’m going to gym.

Missing you lots, my friend.

xx Livi (not xx L, which is like XXL. How did I never notice that before?)

___________________________________

From:
Alivia Howard

Sent:
Sun 6 Apr, 13:21 pm

To:
Sarah Henley

Subject:
The gym bunnies on the bus go ‘ow, ow, ow’

Okay, so I officially joined the gym. I must have been high on endorphins at the time, because when my alarm went off at 7:15 am this morning so I’d be at gym in time for an 8 am abs class, I couldn’t remember why I thought any of this exercise stuff was a good idea.

1. It was way too early to think about getting up.

2. My arms were aching from all the weights and machines I used yesterday.

3. I have a twisted ankle! Why didn’t I wait till that’s better before joining the gym? Now the only exercises I can do involve abs and arms.

I recited my list to Adam, who didn’t seem to care and dragged me out of bed anyway. Then when we got to gym and I told him I was too late for my class and would just get a smoothie and sit on a couch while I waited for him, he laughed in my face and made me exercise with him.

SIT-UPS

Adam: 130

Livi: 20

CRUNCHES

Adam: 150

Livi: 30

PLANK

Adam: 90 seconds

Livi: “What the freak is a plank?”

Yeah … so … I’m pathetic.

xx

P.S. I remembered that Allegra and Co. are all at home for the holidays, so the mall is safe. Adam doesn’t know it yet, but he is assisting me with Project Retail Therapy in about an hour.

___________________________________

From:
Alivia Howard

Sent:
Mon 7 Apr, 9:08 am

To:
Adam Anderson

Subject:
Most epic funny cats

www.youtube.com/watch?v=WXUoZkBoGg

This one. Seriously. It’s the funniest by far. Did you hear me fall off my chair just now? Because I did. That’s how funny this is.

___________________________________

From:
Adam Anderson

Sent:
Mon 7 Apr, 9:10 am

To:
Alivia Howard

Subject:
Get off your lazy bum

Why are you sending me emails when you live about three metres away from me? If you find a funny video, get off your lazy bum and come over here and show me!

P.S. You are ten minutes late for the
Star Wars
marathon.

___________________________________

From:
Alivia Howard

Sent:
Mon 7 Apr, 9:11 am

To:
Adam Anderson

Subject:
Re: Get off your lazy bum

My bum is not lazy. Did you see it last night? I was rocking those kneeling rear leg raises.

P.S. Cat videos are more entertaining than
Star Wars
.

___________________________________

From:
Adam Anderson

Sent:
Mon 7 Apr, 9:12 am

To:
Alivia Howard

Subject:
Sigh

File under
Inappropriate Things Livi Says
: “Did you see my bum last night?”

___________________________________

From:
Alivia Howard

Sent:
Mon 7 Apr, 9:14 am

To:
Adam Anderson

Subject:
I do not say that many inappropriate things

Really? You have a mental file labeled
Inappropriate Things Livi Says
? I would have thought it more likely you’d have a mental file labeled
Things Livi’s Walked Into
.

___________________________________

From:
Alivia Howard

Sent:
Tue 8 Apr, 20:45 pm

To:
Sarah Henley

Subject:
Am I a snooty wine drinker?

Adam has this friend at
Jazzy Beanbag
, Hugo, who really likes this drummer girl from one of the bands that plays there regularly. So Adam decided to help him out by casually mentioning last night that the four of us should check out this food and wine festival happening in Franschhoek this week. Pixie said she doesn’t like wine, but she’d be happy to come along for the food part (and no, Pixie is not her real name, but everyone calls her that because she’s so small).

So it was all going well. Adam and I were secretly watching the two of them and awarding Hugo points every time he was brave enough to do something like hold her hand or compliment her or casually drape his arm around her shoulder. It was cute. And Hugo was doing really well.

So we’d been tasting all this food and wine, and we’d just sat down at a table under the trees somewhere so I could give my aching ankle a rest, when Pixie looked at Adam, groaned, and said, “Can you please get your girlfriend to stop being a snooty know-it-all about the wine? I don’t think I can take it any longer.”

Well. Excuse me for enjoying the taste of wine. Excuse me for wanting to share my enjoyment by telling Adam and Hugo everything they should be able to smell and taste and then seeing if they can smell and taste it. Which, by the way, was a fun game until Miss Pixie decided she couldn’t ‘take it any longer.’ Maybe if she’d been drinking wine since she was fifteen she’d also appreciate how fabulous it is. But no. She had to make things awkward.

Anyway, I didn’t say any of that. I said, “Snooty?” And Adam blurted out, “She’s not my girlfriend.” And Pixie looked at us with this what’s-wrong-with-you-guys expression and said, “So why is your arm around her shoulders?” Instead of playing it cool and saying, “We’re friends. Friends do that. What’s your problem?” Adam whipped his arm away as fast as if my shoulders were on fire. I hadn’t even realised it was there because, you know, it’s ADAM, and we’ve put our arms around each other many times without it meaning anything. AND THEN he proceeded to keep at least two metres away from me for the rest of the day, which made whispering about Hugo and Pixie impossible. And Pixie kept sighing every time I said anything to her, as if I’d become this major annoyance in her life.

So today sucked.

I miss you.

xx

___________________________________

From:
Alivia Howard

Sent:
Wed 9 Apr, 21:30 pm

To:
Sarah Henley

Subject:
Livi Hearts Exercise

I know. I KNOW. You probably saw the subject line and thought I was being sarcastic, but I WAS NOT! This endorphin thing is working out well for me. And Adam too. He isn’t sad about Jenna and I’m not sad about Jackson. Not that you can really compare a two-and-a-half year relationship to one that lasted about three weeks, but still.

Sit-ups: 35

Crunches: 45

Plank: 25 seconds

It’s nowhere near as impressive as what Adam did today (no wonder he got over Jenna in only a few weeks. With all the exercise he’s been doing, he’s probably got bazillions of happy little endorphins whizzing around his body), but I still think it’s a brag-worthy achievement.

Luke usually comes to gym with us, but he goes off and does his own thing, which is pretty much his modus operandi for everything in life. He’s going to East London tomorrow to visit his girlfriend for a few days, so Adam and I will have the house to ourselves. Which, now that I think about it, is what it feels like most of the time.

xx

P.S. Mom said the session with Dad and the counsellor went quite well this morning. She’s still staying with my grandparents and she isn’t ready to make any major life decisions yet, but I’m just relieved nobody’s mentioned the D-word.

___________________________________

From:
Alivia Howard

Sent:
Thu 10 Apr, 15:53 pm

To:
Sarah Henley

Subject:
My flaming face

It finally happened. The thing I’ve been fearing since I moved in here at the beginning of the year: I walked in on a naked guy in our bathroom. And that naked guy was the guy I’ve been friends with since we were thirteen.

AWKWARD.

So here’s what happened. Our bathroom has this damp problem. Well, it has many problems (just ask my mother), but the major one is the lack of ventilation which means the steam doesn’t go anywhere and the walls and ceiling are always damp and mould is starting to grow. So we’ve taken to showering with the door ajar to assist with ventilation. We all do this. We all know about it. And I’ve never had a problem identifying when the bathroom is in use or not.

Until today.

Adam and I had just got back from gym, so obviously we needed to shower. I told him to go first. I made a snack and took it to my room to do some Facebook browsing. I don’t know how long I spent doing that, but by the time I realised I was cold and still needed to shower, I assumed Adam MUST be done in the bathroom. I passed his bedroom, where the door was half closed and music was playing. Which meant he was in there, right? Wrong. I pushed the bathroom door open and—

Holy naked buttocks.

He said “Whoa!” and I said “Whoa!” and then he started TURNING AROUND, at which point I managed to squeeze my eyes shut and stumble out of there.

BOOK: The Trouble With Flirting
6.16Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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