#Selfie

by Cambria Hebert

  And so here I was, pulling into the driveway of the house I’d grown up in. After I killed the engine, I sat there staring at the rancher for several long, silent moments. Frankly, I was surprised my mother still lived here. A lot had happened in her life at this place. Some good, but more of it bad. Hell, if I were honest with myself, I would admit the real reason I needed my own “space” over at the dorm was to get away from the memories here.

  The bright-green, spotless Hellcat pulled up behind me. In my rearview, I watched Rimmel bounce around in the passenger seat and Rome say something to her that made her laugh. A smile pulled at the corner of my mouth. I honestly couldn’t have loved her more if God had made her my biological sister. The innocence and openness of her heart despite the shitty hand life dealt her shocked me.

  How she hadn’t become jaded seemed a miracle to me. It was something I wanted to protect. I hoped Rimmel never lost that innocence about her. I realized her openness was something Rome and I somehow had been given, because she wasn’t like that with everyone. It had taken Romeo a while to get in.

  Seemed like it took less for me. Maybe that’s because on some level, my little sis and I recognized each other. I understood her walls better than most.

  Even still, Rimmel and I were different, because once someone got behind that wall she kept up, it was all rainbows and unicorns. Happy times and gummy bears. I wasn’t Willy Wonka. I didn’t have happy times and gummy bears inside me.

  I had a wall and then another one.

  She appeared at my window, craning her neck to see inside the lifted truck. I laughed and popped open the door. “Hey, tutor girl.”

  “What are you doing sitting in the driveway?” She was holding a large bouquet of sunflowers, almost as big as her head.

  Her dark hair was down around her shoulders, looking pretty tame, her clothes matched a little too well and didn’t swallow her whole, and I knew right away she hadn’t dressed herself.

  This was Ivy’s handiwork.

  “You trying to make me look bad by showing up here with flowers?” I asked.

  She snorted. “As if you could look bad.”

  “Well, Rim, some people need flowers and some are just naturally amazing.” I sighed like it was a chore.

  Behind her dark-framed glasses, hazel eyes rolled. “And some people have big egos.”

  I grinned. “Rome.”

  “What’s up, B?” We pounded our fists in way of greeting.

  Rimmel muttered something about us acting like cavemen.

  “You boys gonna eat in the driveway?” Mom’s voice carried through the mild spring air.

  She was standing in the front door with a kitchen towel in her hand. I plucked the flowers out of Rim’s hands and dashed across the driveway. She let out a yell behind me and Romeo chuckled.

  “For you.” I presented the flowers to my mother. She took them and patted me on the cheek.

  “They’re beautiful. Thank you, Rimmel.” Mom looked around me to her guests.

  “I’m insulted,” I cracked and moved into the house. “I’ve brought you flowers.”

  Usually they needed to be planted in her garden, but she liked that shit. It counted… right?

  “Thank you so much for having us, Caroline,” Rimmel said politely.

  Little sisters were suck-ups.

  “Thanks for coming, honey,” Mom crooned.

  I made a gagging sound.

  “Mom!” Romeo greeted her a lot less politely but way more familiar than Rim. “What’s cooking?” He swept her up in a bear hug, and she swatted him with the towel.

  “Lasagna.”

  “Hope you made a whole pan just for me,” Romeo replied. “‘Cause I’m starving.”

  “Me too,” I added.

  “How did I know you would say that?” I felt Mom looking at me, studying me. I knew she probably wanted to ask about him.

  But she didn’t. She wouldn’t. Not in front of my friends.

  “Wash up. It’s almost ready,” she instructed.

  Rome and I took off for the bathroom like it was a race. We’d been doing it since we were seven and it would probably never change. Except of course now we were both too big to fit through the bathroom door at the same time.

  Mom and Rimmel were talking animatedly out in the kitchen and their voices carried down the hall.

  “How’s the arm, Rome?” I asked, glancing at the arm he’d broken several weeks ago. It used to be in a sling, but now he just wore a brace. And when it was under his jacket, it appeared there was nothing wrong at all.

  He grunted. “Healing up. Now that we’re back, I’d like to get some extra training in on the field. You game?”

  “Hells yeah,” I said as I scrubbed my hands. I could use an outlet for some of the pent-up crap inside me. Some days I felt like a caged animal. I missed football season; I missed the team and the practices that kicked my ass.

  I was a damn good player, but I’d never been quite as serious about it as Romeo. I’d done it more for the rush, for the outlet being on the field provided.

  The lasagna was banging and so were the salad and garlic toast she made to go with it. The dinner conversation was light, and I spent half of it teasing Rimmel about everything I could think of. Mom grilled Rome about his arm and physical therapy, which was something she was interested in as a nurse. I’d learned a long time ago that nurses never really left their jobs at the hospital. Being a nurse was an around-the-clock gig, and for Mom, caring about people was, too.

  Romeo and I were plowing through our second slice of cheesecake and Rimmel was helping Mom with the cleanup when the phone rang.

  She still had one of those ancient phones that hung on the wall. A landline. It practically belonged in a museum. I’d asked her a hundred times why she didn’t just cut it off and use her cellphone exclusively. She said it was for safety and she wanted it in case she ever forgot to charge her cell.

  I wasn’t gonna argue with anything that made her feel safe. Hell, I’d put a landline in every room of this house if I thought that’s what she wanted.

  “I’m surprised that thing doesn’t spit out a cloud of dust every time it rings,” Romeo drawled.

  I cackled. “Good one.”

  “You boys.” Mom chuckled and padded across the kitchen to pick up the receiver.

  She was barefoot tonight and dressed in some black pants Ivy would call leggings with some kind of long, silky shirt in a pale yellow. Her dark hair hung in a single braid down her back, and it reminded me of that chick from Hunger Games.

  “Please tell me you aren’t going to eat another piece,” Rimmel said, motioning toward the half-gone cheesecake on the table between Romeo and me.

  I was thinking about it.

  Romeo caught her around the waist and pulled her into his lap. She settled there like there was no place else she’d rather be, and something in my chest felt hollow. They had an easy way about them, not because their relationship had been easy—hell, they could fill up an hour of Jerry Springer—but their feelings were. It’s like they never doubted they belonged together.

  A coldness seeped into the room, stillness. It pushed away all my thoughts of cheesecake and sappy love. I felt the tentacles of something I didn’t like creep across the floor like a stalker in a bad horror movie.

  “Just a second,” Mom said.

  My fork clattered against the plate.

  I knew.

  I knew what the wooden tone, the lack of inflection in her voice, meant.

  It was him.

  He was fucking calling here again.

  I spun in the seat and glared across the room. Mom pulled the receiver from her ear and held it at her side. We looked at each other. “It’s for you.”

  I shoved out of the chair so hard it clattered onto the floor. I wanted so badly to rip the phone from her hand. From the wall. But I forced myself to take it calmly. Acting like a caveman would only make things worse.

  I’d go to the gym afterward and hit the ba
g if I needed to.

  “Braeden.” Mom’s voice begged for some kind of understanding.

  I laughed. It wasn’t a nice sound.

  “Don’t ever call here again,” I snarled into the phone. Then I slammed it back on the base on the wall.

  Even with the loud clattering of the phone being hung up, silence descended upon the room. It was like we were in a movie and someone hit pause.

  Breath heaved in my lungs and fingertips curled into my palm.

  Hate.

  It was a strong emotion. Probably the strongest I’d ever known.

  And right beneath it lay fear.

  Both of those feelings originated from the same place. Both of them were inspired by the same man.

  My father.

  The silence was shattered when Romeo cleared his throat. He stood up, taking Rimmel with him, and placed her on her feet.

  “I ate way too damn much. I’m gonna need to hit the gym and work it off.”

  It wasn’t lost on me the way he stepped in front of Rimmel like he felt the need to protect her.

  Which pissed me off. I swung around to face him.

  Did he really think I’d hurt my damn sister?

  He held his ground, like I knew he would. I stared into his face, just looking for a fight. He’d give me one if that’s what I wanted. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  But I couldn’t deny there was no hint of warning in his eyes. He wasn’t shielding Rimmel from me, just the situation.

  Some of me deflated. She didn’t need this. BBFLs kept drama away, not brought it in.

  “Yeah,” I said after a few breaths, “I could go for a workout.”

  Romeo fished the keys to his Hellcat out of his pocket and handed them to Rim. “Don’t rip the transmission out on the way back to campus, baby.”

  “Romeo?” I heard the question in her voice, the wariness.

  “It’s okay. We’ll be at the gym. I’ll come by your room in a couple hours.”

  I knew I should say something. Something to make her less freaked out. But I was afraid to open my mouth. I was afraid I would start yelling and never stop.

  Romeo appeared beside me. “Let’s go.”

  I left without a backward glance at anyone, not even Mom.

  It was an asshole thing to do. But I never said I wasn’t an asshole.

  Out in the yard, I heard her say something. I heard Romeo reply. He was probably promising her he’d make sure I was okay. It wasn’t the first time he’d made that promise.

  I thought a long time ago he’d never have to make it again.

  And just like that, I was transported back to the past. Back to the memories I wished I didn’t have.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ivy

  Two weeks.

  Two weeks since Braeden and I combusted into a pile of limbs in his bed.

  Every. Single. Day.

  That’s how often I thought about that night. It’s like I was some old, musty house being haunted by ghosts of the past. It didn’t matter how many showers I took. I still felt his touch. It didn’t matter how many insults he’d flung at me over the past few months. Hell, even since that night, they didn’t matter.

  I didn’t love him.

  But I didn’t hate him either.

  Not anymore. There was no way I could hate someone—the only one—who gave me the most pleasure I’d ever known in bed.

  I’d seen him twice since our weekly pancake breakfast. The first time, I ducked into a building so he wouldn’t see me. The second time, I didn’t notice him until it was too late. When we locked eyes across campus, my belly flip-flopped and my palms grew sweaty.

  He smirked like he knew the kind of effect he had on me.

  I flicked my hair over my shoulder and narrowed my eyes. If he wanted a fight, I’d give him one.

  But some dark-haired beauty slipped up to his side and said something. He looked away, and I used it as my chance to escape.

  Missy, Rimmel, and I had lunch a few times this week. A couple times, I made up an excuse and didn’t go. I couldn’t believe how this one mistake, how one night, could seriously be affecting the rest of my life.

  Oh, wait.

  I guess I did know.

  It happened with Zach, too.

  Hell, that’s partly why I was in this situation.

  The morning I woke up and realized what happened made me take a long, hard look in the mirror. I wasn’t the kind of girl who got so drunk she’d sleep with anyone. I wasn’t the kind of girl who partied too much and stayed out all night.

  Yet that’s who I was acting like.

  And frankly, I scared myself. I was on a dangerous path. A path I was afraid if I wandered too far down, I’d get lost and never find my way back.

  It seemed so cliché to think, but growing up was hard. Here I was almost a junior in college, two years living on my own and making my own choices, and I was doing a shitty job. I had no major declared and my grades were decent, but not as good as I knew they could be. I partied every weekend, slept with a few guys (including Zach… What the hell was I thinking?) and made out with more than I cared to admit.

  And to top it all off, I slept with Braeden. The guy I hated. The guy my best friend wanted.

  What’s worse? My body craved him. I needed more.

  So it wasn’t really just one thing affecting everything. It was a culmination of choices, mistakes that led me here—sitting in my dorm, feeling depressed, insecure, and wishing I hadn’t agreed to go to Screamerz tonight with everyone.

  If I tried to get out of it, Missy would call me on it. I’d rather go and be miserable than try to explain anything to her.

  Since it was Saturday and I didn’t have classes today, I went to the campus gym and worked out. Then I grabbed some food from the food court, carried it back to the room, and vegged out in front of my laptop with my favorite movie of all time, Clueless.

  After that, I did some homework and read ahead a couple chapters in one of my classes so I wouldn’t be so slammed next week.

  Rimmel was volunteering at the shelter today, so I had the room to myself. Missy texted a couple times to make sure we were all still going out and to ask me about outfit choices.

  I felt like wearing sweatpants. Hell, I felt like wearing no pants. I smiled to myself and wondered what everyone would say if I walked in wearing what I was dressed in now.

  The expression on certain people’s faces might be worth it. But the one on others wouldn’t be. Not to mention I’d be embarrassed as hell.

  Even if I didn’t feel like dressing to the nines for our night out, I would. Braeden was going to be there. Missy was, and probably half the campus would be, too. I’d never let anyone see me down. I knew I needed to make some changes in my life, starting now. And I would. But I would still look good for it.

  I glanced at the clock. Rimmel was going to be home to get ready soon, so I dragged myself off my bed and changed into a pair of pajamas with bottoms, tucking what I’d been wearing in the back of my dresser drawer before sliding it closed.

  Afterward, I pulled up a makeup tutorial I watched earlier in the week and watched it again so I could copy the look for tonight. It was super cute and perfect for a fun night out. It was fairly neutral, but the eyes were slightly smoky and the outer corners were accented with white-and-black polka dots. They were so small you’d have to be sitting close to notice them, but the effect was stunning, and I really wanted to try my hand at it.

  Since I was doing something a little more involved with my makeup, I decided to keep my hair simple and wear it straight and sleek. As I watched the tutorial, I divided the blond strands into sections and started flat-ironing it.

  I was halfway done when I heard Rimmel at the door. I paused in styling and spun in my chair. Rimmel stepped in holding her oversized bag in front of her.

  “Hey, girl,” I called.

  “Hey!” She stopped beside her bed and kicked off her sneakers. Her hair was a disaster, and I knew it was go
nna take me a while to fix it. Maybe I’d do some kind of braid. Braids were pretty and fast.

  “You been hanging out here all day?” she asked, casual.

  “I went to the gym,” I said and spun back around toward the laptop.

  “Didn’t hang out with Missy?”

  “Nah, I wanted to get some homework done before we all went out tonight.” Before she could ask me anything else—this girl was like a dog with a bone when she suspected something, and I was starting to think Rimmel definitely suspected something—I asked, “How was the shelter?”

  “Busy.” Rimmel sighed. “A lot of animals have come in lately. So many of them need homes.”

  Her words made me sad. Like a genuine gnawing sadness to think about all those animals sitting in a cage with no one to love them. To my surprise, tears filled the backs of my eyes and threatened to spill over.

  I kept my back to Rimmel so she wouldn’t see and worked on another section of hair. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  I realized I sort of felt like a stray. Not really sure where I belonged. I wasn’t homeless—I would always have a place with my parents and brothers—but it wasn’t exactly my home either. I guess I felt more displaced than homeless. Lost, wanting to be found.

  “Well, I hope you don’t mind…” Rimmel’s voice trailed away. “But I sort of brought home a stowaway.”

  I put down the flat iron and spun around.

  Rimmel looked sheepish, but that wasn’t what caught my eye. Her bag was moving. Or rather, something inside it was.

  “Isn’t it only a stowaway if you didn’t know it was there?” I asked warily.

  Rimmel giggled. She totally knew that thing—whatever it was—took a ride with her all the way back here. She set the bag on her bed and reached in. When she turned back, I saw what was in her arms.

  “O-M-Geeee!” I squealed. “That is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen!”

  Rimmel laughed. “I know! I couldn’t just leave her there. Poor little girl.”