by Finn, Emilia
“I can hear you fools!” Kane’s voice echoes through the now lit hallway. “You’re both idiots. Make your call, Laine, then get the hell out of my bed. I want some of the V, so I’m gonna need you to put in earphones and turn the music up.”
I shake my head with disappointment. “Your boyfriend is gross.”
She nods. “Yeah. He’s a pig.”
“He has no manners.”
She shakes her head. “Nope. And he’s unapologetic about it.”
“You shoulda stayed with Ernie. He was good for you.”
Rhinoceros hooves pound down the hall. “Who the fuck is Ernie? And what kinda lame ass motherfucker name is that?”
I snicker and turn away from Jess. Strategically falling off the side of the bed, I escape her swatting hand and drop her cell on the bedside table. “Ernie was her one true love. She still talks to him, and she told me his dick is bigger than yours.”
“Blondie!”
“She’s lying!” Laughing, she lets out a squeal when he drags her out of the bed and over his shoulder. “She’s lying!”
He swats her backside. “Do you know anyone named Ernie? Don’t lie to me, woman.”
“Yes.” Snorting, she slaps his back while dangling upside down. “I do, actually. He was in our grade at school. He’s a tax accountant now.”
“Blondie! He’s got a bigger dick than me? What the fuck?”
I back away from the couple with only a little bit of jealousy at the way he manhandles her; he’s rough and silly, but he doesn’t hurt her. He smacks her butt, but he’s not cruel.
“No!” Laughing, she doesn’t notice when I close the door with a soft snick and turn away. “I think he has a pencil dick! But you’ll have to ask Britt about that, because we don’t share dudes.”
I threw myself out of my bed in tears. I went into Jess’ room with a racing heart. But I leave again with a smile.
Watching my small sister and her giant boyfriend interact is the perfect medicine. I can see a perfectly normal, consensual, loving and respectful relationship in action. I see that he’s big and scary and could hurt her, but he doesn’t. He won’t.
And even if he tried, he equipped her with the confidence and ability to stop him.
Moving into my room, I pick up my own cell and flip open the ancient device.
Angelo.
The first contact in my phone.
Hitting dial, because why the hell not? I walk back into the hall and blush at the soft groans coming from Jess’ room. Instead of plugging music into my head, I’m going to visit with Wanda in the garage.
“Laine?” Instantly, Ang’s panicked tone makes my heart race. I’m so used to panic mode, so used to attack, his anxiety sets me on high alert. “Are you okay?”
“Hey.” My voice cracks unexpectedly. “I’m okay. Turn the panic down a little. I’m walking through a dark house and you’re gonna freak me out.”
“You… you’re…” He lets out an explosive breath. “Huh?”
“Are you awake?”
“I am now, but it’s still dark out. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I walk down the stairs with one hand on the rail. I don’t want to die from breaking my neck. Not after everything else. “I’m okay. I had a shitty dream, so then I went to visit with Jess, now she’s having sex and I’m going to visit with Wanda.”
“Jess is having sex?”
“Yuh.”
“Right now?”
“Uh-huh. Why are you fixating on that?”
“I just…” I smile at his stuttering. “I’m not. Moving on. I’m not going to ask how you know what they’re doing. I’m not even going to mention the fact you visited them in the middle of the damn night, and now… just no.” The sounds of scratchy stubble come through the line. “You’re okay?”
“Yes.” I walk through the living room and flip on every light we have.
“Who’s Wanda? Are you leaving the house? Don’t go anywhere alone, I’ll come and get you.”
The anxiety that settled in my stomach a moment ago dissolves. “Just like old times. You know I’m going to do dumb shit, but instead of stopping me, you drive me where I’ve gotta go.”
“Because I can’t stop you from doing the dumb shit,” he huffs. “The only thing I can do is make sure you arrive home safe again.”
I pass through the kitchen and continue to flip on lights. “You’re a sweet friend, Ang. I’m not sure I ever told you that.”
“Laine…” He lets out a long exhale. “I’m not mad you’re calling. I’ll never be mad you called. But can you get to the point? You’re making me sick with worry.”
“Oh, yeah.” I flip the switch on the coffee machine and get to work with the beans. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”
“It’s okay. What’s up?”
“Where are you?”
“In bed. Where the hell do you think I am?”
His snapped words make me smile. Ang is grumpy when woken up before he’s ready.
“Sorry. Bed is obvious. My head is a little whacky today, and now it’s not even five and I’m starting the coffee.”
“Why don’t you go back to bed?” His voice, low and gritty, proves how tired he is. I never considered Ang a hugger before, but that’s sort of what his voice at this hour feels like. A warm hug under soft blankets. “Bad dreams suck, but you should try to get more sleep.”
“No, I’m up for today. I’m gonna make coffee and do some work, but I wanted to talk to you first.”
“Yeah?” Yawning, he moves around in bed, almost like he’s moving up to sit against the headboard. “What do you wanna talk about?”
“I wanted to say I’m sorry for freaking out on you the other day.”
“You’re sorry?” The laziness in his voice dissipates in an instant. “Sorry? What the hell for?”
“My head is all kinda messed up at the moment.” I close the lid on the machine and press the button to get it started. “Graham messed with a lot of things, like my self-worth, my autonomy, my freedom. He made me scared of shadows. And men. He made me terrified of men.”
“Laine…”
“I’m not scared of you, Ang. I’ve never been scared of you, but I was scared of becoming scared of you.” I stand by and watch the coffee machine vibrate on the counter. “Do you know what I mean? Am I making sense?”
“I won’t ever hurt you, Laine. Not in a million years.”
“I know.” I step to the fridge and take out the milk. “I know you won’t, but I was scared I might get a little spooked, and I was afraid that would juxtapose your face onto everyone else that scared me.” Without my hoodie, in sleep shorts and a tank top, I stare out the black window over the sink and shiver. “I was afraid of breaking an old friendship because of my issues, so I pushed you away. So, the reason I’m calling is to say I’m sorry for pushing you away. I’m sorry for freaking out on you the other day.”
“You don’t have to apologize. You never have to tell me sorry for something you’re feeling. I’m your friend, I signed on for a lifetime of weird PMS tantrums, bail bonding, and riddles that I might never be able to solve.”
“And frustrating middle of the night phone calls?”
He chuckles. “I’m not mad you called. I was worried, but I’m not mad.”
“What time do you normally wake up?”
“Ah… depends.” He moves around in bed. “If it’s a work day, I usually get up at six. If it’s the morning after a set at the club, I get up whenever the hell I want. If it’s after a set but still a work day, I drink coffee like Voldemort drank the unicorn blood, and live a half life until I can catch up with a midday nap.”
“You didn’t play with the guys last night, did you?”
“Nope. I was in bed early.”
“So really, I didn’t wake you up super early. You’re rested and ready for a big day.”
It’s like I can hear his eyes narrow. “Why?”
I laugh. “I’m just trying to make myself feel better for
waking you up.” I take my finished coffee and add a dash of milk. Stirring with a fast finger and hissing at the burn, I pick up the mug and head toward the garage. “I’m heading out to see Wanda.”
“You still didn’t tell me who Wanda is.”
“The Buick.” I switch on the garage lights and grin at the faded hunk of junk in front of me. “She feels like a car someone might wander in, a car you might just drive around for the sheer luxury of driving around. Nowhere to be, no deadlines. Top down and music up, nothing but wind and sun and open road.” I sigh at the freedom this car promises. “Do you know what I mean?”
“Yeah.” He scratches his stubble again. “I know what you mean. It’s a good car.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Umm…” He clears his throat. “Maybe. What do you wanna know?”
“Well,” I sit my mug on the stack of boxes lining the wall and move around to flip on a bug zapper. Mosquitoes are everywhere, and I have a lot of exposed skin. For the first time in a long time, my arms and legs will feel the light. “I had a different question, but now I really want to know what you won’t tell me. What are your secrets, Angelo? Tell me everything.”
He scoffs. “Not a chance in hell. What was your original question?”
I roll my eyes. “Since you’re awake, maybe you should come over. This feels more like an in-person thing to ask.”
15
Angelo
Shiiiiiiit
From sweet dreams and pleasurable groans, to an alarm in the night and a racing heart, I dive out of bed the second she hangs up, trip on my sheets, yank on a pair of underwear, and almost plough headfirst through drywall when I trip a second time.
My dick aches. It fucking throbs with want.
A guy goes to sleep thinking of a certain blonde, he dreams of her, dreams where she’s free, silly, and wild like she once was. He dreams of sinking deep inside her and he doesn’t have to worry about her freaking out, so when he wakes to find her name flashing on his screen, shit starts to blur on the friends to lovers scale.
Her name bleeping at me in the dark meant I soared for the smallest beat, victorious in my dream-haze, until my brain caught up and the worry nearly broke me.
What does she want?
What does she want to talk about?
Does she know the years she shaved off my life when my brain overtook my dick and started thinking for me?
I race to the bathroom with my cell in hand and a shirt half on. Stopping at the mirror, I snag a hair elastic from the counter and whip my hair back. It’s five o’clock in the damn morning, and she’s willingly inviting me over.
As if I’m not going to go.
Forgoing coffee, forgetting breakfast, ignoring my wildly racing heart, I sprint out the front door and fight my clothes as I try to tug everything on while running. Silently apologizing to my neighbors, I start the Charger and wake every kid for a five-block radius.
That bad karma’s gonna bite me on the ass one day, but today, I have an invitation to talk to Laine.
Fucked if I’m not accepting.
The tiniest crack of pink sky peeks out from behind the rolling hills as I cross town. I could never be a city dweller; those hour long trips just to get to the store, the hour drive home, despite the fact it’s only five miles, all those fucking people always up in your space.
No. Living just three minutes from every person I love is the perfect reason to stay exactly where I am.
I turn in to Bish’s street and cut the engine twenty seconds earlier than I need to. Cicadas replace the sound as I roll to the curb and stop out front of Kane’s house.
I don’t want to know what he’s doing right now, I definitely don’t want to disrupt them, and I absolutely don’t want them to come downstairs and interrupt Laine’s questions.
Jumping out of the car with socks on my feet and my boots in my hands, I watch the closed garage door and study the light peeking out from the crack at the bottom.
Jesus, what does she want?
What would she call me in the middle of the night to talk about?
I drop my car keys into my pocket and trip my way into my shoes. I’m like an eager puppy; after watching her for so long, after hoping for her to watch me back, I’m here waiting for a pat like a damn dog.
Cool your shit, Angelo. Back the fuck up and relax before she spooks again.
I slow my steps. Pulling in deep breaths, I let them out and repeat. Slow it down. Relax. You know this girl; she’s your friend.
Fucking friend. Because every dude loves the friend-zone.
I stop at the garage door and lean closer to hear the soft sounds of Chopin’s Nocturne playing through speakers.
Did she do that for me?
Did she do that because it soothes her?
Did she do that to soothe the damn car?
I bring my hand up and tap the steel door, and at the sound of a startled wrench hitting the car frame, I grit my teeth.
“Shit. Ouch.” She lets out a hiss and places her tools down.
Groaning, I just know she’s sucking on her aching finger the way she did the time she slammed her hand doing Luc’s bike. Before I can do anything, before I can break through the door and fix her pain, the locks click and the chains rattle.
I step back like I did the other day.
Feet. No flip flops today.
Legs. No sweatpants.
She pulls the door up and reveals little sleep shorts and wild hair tied in a ponytail at the back of her head.
The exposed legs don’t leave me breathless.
Not even the tiny inch of exposed belly winds me.
But her smile does.
She’s smiling, and it makes my heart skip a beat. “Laine…”
“Hey.” She turns on bare feet and moves toward the sink at the back of the garage. My stomach drops that this might be a repeat of the other day and the hand scrubbing, but she flips the tap on and watches me over her shoulder. “Sorry. Come on in. I slammed my finger, then when I sucked on it, I got a mouthful of something I don’t wanna dissect. Oil and sand… and maybe dead pigeon.” Her lips crinkle. “Gross.”
I walk into the garage and pull the door closed. “Your hand okay?”
“Yeah.” Long blonde hair hangs between her shoulder blades and swings as she moves. Last time I saw her, it was unwashed and knotted in a bun. It’s not salon styled this morning, but it’s clean and silky smooth. “Your knock scared me. I expected to hear the car in the driveway, so I jumped when you knocked.”
“Sorry.” I move further into her space and stop when I get to the engine bay. “Fuck me, Laine. How much work did you put into this?” The crankcase is already off. The rods and pistons out and cleaned up. Spark plugs tossed aside. The oil pump is gone, and a brand-new mounting kit is opened and set aside. “Are you trying to put me out of work?”
She turns and dries her hands on a towel. “Nah. And I know I said I wouldn’t mess with it anymore, but that was a lie.” She grins. “It wasn’t something I tried to follow through on. I didn’t start with good intentions to stay away. It was just a bold-faced lie. My car, sorry.”
She’s different.
She’s better.
“Big day yesterday?”
She shrugs and tosses her towel aside. Stopping in front of the engine, she surrounds me with the aroma of tropical fruit shampoo and maybe dead pigeon. “Saw my therapist. Had ice-cream.”
“Stick ice-cream?”
She flashes the biggest grin I’ve seen in years. “Nope.”
It’s like she committed a crime. “You didn’t…”
“We did!” She squeaks like she used to on a Saturday night when she was doing things she knew she shouldn’t. “We sat our asses in Dixie’s, ate our overpriced ice-cream, then we scratched our names into the booth and ran outta there like we were on fire.”
“You heathen.” I laugh and turn back to the engine before I get caught staring at her chest. I can’t do that. I can’t be th
at guy. “Dixie’s gonna come after us with a shovel.”
“Again.” She snickers. “That old bitch already tried once.”
I shake my head and pick up the socket she was working with before I got here. “Trouble. You and your sister; pure fucking trouble.”
“We’ve caused hardly any trouble in forever. Now she’s all legit; she’s practically married, a lawyer, and a respectable citizen.”
“And you?”
“A teacher! What the hell was I thinking?”
I hip bump her aside so I can reach the rusted nuts I was working on yesterday before I called defeat and went home. “A teacher. You told me elementary school was your favorite, so you wanted to teach that age.”
She rolls her eyes. “It was a trap. I was the kid in that scenario, so it was fun. Now I’m the adult and I realize my teacher probably hid bottles of tequila in her desk. Kids are the worst.” She laughs. “Did you have crushes at that age? I sure as shit didn’t, but now Kelsey wants to date Brax, but Brax is looking at Shae, and Shae’s looking at some other dopey kid. Now Shae and Kelsey and everyone else are at each other’s throats and taking sides. All because Brax is a horndog that likes the wrong girl.”
I work hard to smother the laughter in my chest. “That’s not at all what I expected you to say about your job.”
She cackles. “I know! Now I’ve got the Bloods and the Crips up in sixth grade and tequila just isn’t cutting it. I should’ve become a mechanic.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I mean, I know it’s a hard job. You have to work long hours, it’s hot in the summer, and cold in the winter. Sometimes the engines are pieces of shit, or the owners are. I know you bang fingers and get goose eggs on your forehead when you headbutt the engine.” She nods toward my forehead. She assumes the goose egg that went down not so long ago was from work, when in reality, it was from her when she slammed her head against mine in the hospital. “I dunno. I know it’s hard work, but when I started teaching, I was a lot more extroverted. Now I see the draw in turning your music up and just hanging out with an engine all day. It’s…” She smiles. “Healing.”
“Yeah?” I don’t look up at her, I don’t stop working, I just breathe her in and let her energy bounce around inside my chest. “It’s healing. I know exactly what you mean.”