Making Her Wait Page 6

  “Callie, come on! Give it back!” I yell, fuming. As I make my way around the island, she catches my movements in her peripheral vision and moves to keep me on the opposite side. This is the most childish thing she’s done in years.

  Maybe it’s the first time I’ve had something to hide.

  Her jaw hits her chest before she looks up at me in shock, then she dives back into my private life. “You had Ben Wednesday, Matt Friday, and you were trying to hook up with this Walker guy last night? When did you turn into such a whore?”

  Whoa. That hurts. That really fucking hurts.

  I’m not a whore.

  I’m a twenty-nine-year old girl who has way too many responsibilities, way too many bills, and not nearly enough time for a real relationship because I’m too busy taking care of myself and supporting my sister while she goes to college. I’m a girl who does what she needs to do to sometimes feel like a human. To get rid of stress and remember that touch can sometimes be specifically for my pleasure, instead of something that gets passed out to everyone else. I’m a girl forced into a role with my siblings that I didn’t want. I’m a girl who does the best she can in a world that’s done nothing but crush my dreams and take away any chance at a future of my own choosing.

  Fighting the rage and shame colliding in my heart, I walk away from her and my phone, huffing my way out of the room and the house. I need to go for a drive. Get away from this life and my annoying, ridiculous, can’t-mind-her-own-business sister. After slamming the car door, I spin my tires in the gravel driveway, before remembering that it’s a stupid fucking spare, and I need to be careful.

  I drive around, thinking of my many limitations, and I hate that spare tire. All I want to do is get on the highway and go. In the early days after my parents died, when it was just me and I had so much more and less to worry about at the same time, I would drive hundreds of miles a day. The music would be at full-blast as I cried my eyes out, trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do and how the hell I was going to do it.

  Gas was so much cheaper then. And I had four real tires that didn’t slow me down.

  Gripping the steering wheel, I make a quick decision and head straight to Myra’s. I don’t know if she’s busy. I don’t even know if she’s home. But I can’t be in my own house right now with a sister who judges me so harshly after everything we’ve been through, and I don’t want to cry. Which means I need to be around people. If I indulge in a pity party all by myself, the tears will come.

  Myra pushes me onto her couch, her eyes wide as she takes in my anger.

  Like I said, I don’t do feelings, and Myra’s not quite sure what to do with me.

  After swallowing nervously, she asks, “What’s going on?”

  “Callie called me a whore.”

  Myra sucks in a breath, betrayal and anger on her face. “She did not!”

  “She did,” I nod. “She stole my phone and looked through my texts.” After remembering what those texts showed my little sister, I add, “What do you remember from last night?”

  “Oh girl,” she sighs, rolling her wide eyes dramatically. “Not a whole lot. What did we do this time?”

  “I think you took a picture of me while I paddled the canoe.”

  Her shocked face tells me she remembers no such thing. Until she cocks her head to the side and really thinks about it for a long minute. “Hmph. I think you’re right. Holy shit, we were wasted!”

  We sit there, trying to remember more of last night for a couple hours. Now that I’ve got her thinking about it, she won’t shut up about me touching myself in front of her. I knew I had to have been feeling bold to send that picture to Walker, but to be bold enough to let Myra even take it? What is this guy doing to me?

  Maybe I am a whore...

  I’ve already got two guys on speed text. And I answer speed texts from Walker’s roommate!

  He’s right. We need to just be friends.

  And no more getting drunk unless someone takes my phone away from me.

  When I get home, my phone is lying on the island and the peppers are covered in the fridge. After changing my passcode, I tap out a message to Walker and hit send before I change my mind.

  Genny: After much investigation, I discovered that someone else did, indeed, take that picture. I fear my actions from the previous evening were spurred on by mass quantities of alcohol, and my embarrassment and regret took top priority today. Please accept my sincere apologies at attempting to push this relationship past the friendship status we agreed upon.

  Just friends Walker Kelley: Apology accepted, but I’m keeping the picture.

  Typing away, I try to reason with him.

  Genny: For the sake of our budding friendship, it would be best for both parties if the picture in question was deleted immediately.

  Just friends Walker Kelley: For the sake of any future hard-ons you give me, semi or full, I think it would be best for me to KEEP the picture in question.

  Oh, Lord! Scrolling through our texts from last night, I read exactly what I sent him and exactly how he replied. What was I thinking?!

  Ok, it’s obvious what I was thinking. I wanted Walker in my house and in my bed. But did I have to ask him about his hard-on?

  And seriously? That was just a semi?

  Genny: Does this mean you DID think of me?

  Just friends Walker Kelley: Not filled with TOO much regret today, I take it.

  Genny: You’re avoiding the question.

  I can’t believe I’m texting him this way. I can’t even say I’m drunk today! Talking about Walker having a hard-on specifically because of me is turning my brain to mush.

  Just friends Walker Kelley: Not avoiding, just trying to keep things in the friend zone.

  Genny: Then you should agree wholeheartedly to delete the picture.

  Just friends Walker Kelley: I’m still a man, G. One who appreciates a girl who isn’t afraid to make herself feel good and is confident enough to take and send a picture like that.

  I slip my phone in my pocket and search out my sister, trying to forget all about my so-called friend. Callie’s passed out in her room, snoring softly, laptop on the bed beside her. Closing the computer and plugging it in so she’ll have it charged for class tomorrow, I watch her sleep, reminding myself that I love this pain-in-the-ass. No matter what she says, or how badly she hurts me, I’ll still worry about her and be there for her in every way I can be.

  There’s a final text from Walker as I’m climbing into bed. This one makes me smile as I fall asleep, thinking of him again.

  Just friends Walker Kelley: Of course, I thought of you, G. Having a hot friend comes in ‘handy’ at times like that.

  Walker

  Genny is incredibly specific about what she wants for takeout and how she wants it. She doesn’t stop at telling me wants pizza. Instead, she tells me what toppings she wants, where I need to get it, and that I have to take it directly to her house. No stopping for anything. Not to fill up my car, a flat tire, red lights, or even an accident or emergency blocking the road.

  If she asks, I’ll disappoint her, because I did stop at two red lights. I’m not a complete idiot.

  Knocking on her door, I wait patiently for all of zero point three seconds before she opens it with a smile and steals the pizza box, disappearing into her kitchen. I try not to get offended that she didn’t even say hello.

  Mental note: Genny loves her pizza.

  “Nice to see you too,” I offer sarcastically, stepping into her house and closing the door. She moves to me in a rush, handing me a plate and dancing back to the box of melted cheese and goodness.

  “It’s amazing to see you, Walker.”

  That’s more like it.

  “Oh, Lord,” she moans, chewing her first bite. I try not to laugh from my seat on the stool next to her at the island, still busy taking my first piece from the box.

  “I take it you like pizza…”

  “No, Friend,” she mumbles around another
bite. “I Love pizza. Specifically, this pizza, and love with a capital L. It’s right up there with orgasms and buy-one-get-one-free specials.”

  “That’s some serious love,” I answer, trying to engage her in conversation. I haven’t texted, seen, or heard from her since Sunday. I want to hear what’s going on in her head. I want to know what her week was like. I want to know if I was in every other one of her thoughts like she was in mine.

  “Stop talking. We can talk later.”

  Genny must not be very good at multitasking.

  With every second or third bite, her eyes roll back in her head, and I start wondering if I somehow wandered onto the set of a porn movie. I’m not one to keep up with the latest trends, but I’m pretty sure what I’m witnessing is a food-gasm. The many groans and enthusiastic whispers of this is so fucking good, have me double checking to make sure she’s still eating, and not trying to take another picture of herself to send me later.

  There’s not a chance in hell she lets Chad see her like this.

  After two slices, she pushes her plate away, turning in my direction and finally give me some attention. “Thanks for dinner.”

  “Entirely my pleasure,” I chuckle, trying to think myself out of a hard-on. As she takes her plate over to the sink to rinse it, I admire the short shorts that hug her ass as she bends over to put the plate in the dishwasher. She smirks as she walks back to her seat, knowing exactly where my eyes just were.

  “So, Friend. Tell me about your week. Any new stories about Zeke?”

  Most of my stories outside of work revolve around that little guy and his family, so I’m glad she likes hearing about him. “Zeke got a hamster this week.”

  “Oh,” she breathes, her green eyes widening in excitement. “Is it still alive?”

  “So far. He got it Wednesday, so it’s only been a couple days.”

  Leaning an elbow on the counter, she holds her head in her hand as she watches me eat and talk. I tell her about how Zeke had an adventure with me in his basement when I changed his mom’s dryer vent on Saturday. How, much to Reese’s horror, he asked if he could keep a mouse if he caught one that came out of the hose. He begged to go searching in the basement for his new pet until Reese took him to the store and bought him a hamster instead.

  “Calvin had a hamster once. He fell asleep playing with it, like, the third day. We never found the little rodent until we discovered it’s skeleton when we moved.”

  “Calvin’s your brother?” I ask, since she hasn’t mentioned him by name before.

  A lock of her long brown hair falls into her face as she nods, and my hands itch to tuck it behind her hear. She absentmindedly beats me to it. “Hold long after he lost it did you move?”

  “Six or seven years,” she giggles. “Most of its skeleton was broken into tiny little pieces. It was disgusting.” Her eyes light up like it wasn’t disgusting at all, like maybe she thought it was really cool instead. “That’s the only pet we ever had. I was into music and Callie did the art thing. Calvin loved his animals from afar after that. He has a small zoo now, though.”

  “Any new artwork from you sister since I was here last week?”

  “I don’t think so. We had a fight last weekend and I stormed off instead of strangling her. She’s thanking me for that kind gesture by giving me the silent treatment.”

  “Sounds like a long week.”

  Scoffing, Genny says, “When she’s not talking to me is about the only time she minds her own business, so it’s not as bad as it sounds.” She takes my empty plate, repeating the process of putting it in the dishwasher. I repeat the process of checking out her ass.

  I really wish I had more dirty dishes…

  “I doubt she’s been painting, though. She had a big paper worth twenty percent of her grade due today. And she’s only got three weeks left of class before finals, so she’s been pretty busy.”

  She wanders into the living room, and I get up to follow her. After she grabs a couple remotes, she flops on the couch, sitting in the middle, making sure I’ll be close to her no matter where I might choose to sit.

  “Did you go to college?” I ask, sitting on her right, closest to the door.

  She does that thing again, the thing where she bites her lip, looking vulnerable and sexy as hell, all at the same time. “Briefly. It didn’t last.”

  The TV flickers to life a second later. I get the distinct feeling she doesn’t want to talk about her brief stint at college. Taking a deep breath, because I have no idea what’s a safe topic with her, I let my arm rest on the top of the couch, leaning back and getting ready for an entertaining evening no matter what might happen. After side-eyeing me, she cautiously leans back against the couch, very aware of my arm above her shoulders.

  “What do you wanna watch?” she demands, her eyes and focus on the screen in front of us.

  “Give me some options. What genre are you thinking?”

  She brings up the new release list. “I was thinking horror, since I don’t want to bore you with a chick flick so soon into our friendship. What do you think?”

  “That’ll work. There’s one that came out a couple weeks ago about an exorcist-”

  “On the creepy little girl? That’s the one I was thinking of, too!”

  There’s that happy smile. If we weren’t just friends, I’d kiss it off her face. When I don’t, she gives a small sigh, settling back into the crook of my arm and letting me slide my arm off the couch to rest on her shoulders. Out of nowhere, she stands up, turning to look at me and my confused expression. “I almost forgot. Do you want something to drink? It’s been a while since I’ve played hostess.”

  “Sure, what do you have?” I ask, glad she wasn’t jumping away from me because my arm landed across her shoulders.

  “Not a whole lot. I got some Miller Lite. I don’t know if you drink it, but I saw it in the fridge at your place once, so I took a chance.”

  She saw it in my fridge because she was fucking my roommate. I rub my temples as I close my eyes, trying to get rid of the reminder. “Yeah. That’ll work. Bring two, if you don’t mind.”

  She hands me a bottle, placing another one on the coffee table with her water. Settling back into the couch and my half-embrace, she sits a little closer this time. And when I curl my arm around her to open my beer, she doesn’t act like being pulled closer to me is a problem.

  The movie starts. We’re introduced to the characters and the plot thickens. And Genny slowly gets more and more comfortable against me. At one point, she pushes off me to grab a throw, but then settles in again, tucking her feet underneath her ass and pulling that blanket over both of us. I’m anything but cold with her against me, but it gives me an excuse to pull her in tighter against my chest.

  The back-door slams open, startling us and causing Genny to scream in surprise. Throwing a disgusted look in our direction, the girl who just scared us stomps her way into the house, flicking on every light possible.

  This must be Callie, Genny’s sister. She looks a lot like a younger version of Genny.

  “Lord, Callie! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Genny scolds her, climbing off the couch and away from me as quickly as possible.

  “You need to call the pharmacy,” Callie sneers, ignoring her sister’s question.

  Genny’s response is immediate. She drops the stern expression she was wearing and turns concerned in half a second. “Why? What’s going on?”

  “They sent out my script today! Even overnighting it, it won’t get here till Monday! And it won’t be any good then!”

  Rubbing her forehead, Genny glances at the clock. “How soon are you gonna need more?”

  “I’m good until the middle of the week, but if the stuff I get is bad-”

  “Stop,” Genny insists, waiting until Callie takes a deep breath to go on. “I’ll take care of it, ok? You won’t run out, I promise.”

  With a huffed response, Callie visibly relaxes and stalks her way into the kitchen. “Can I have
some of this pizza?”

  Genny follows her sister after throwing a look of apology my way. “You know you shouldn’t.”

  “Yeah, well, you know you shouldn’t have one of your boytoys in the living room right now, either.”

  Genny replies something in a harsh whisper that I don’t catch.

  This got interesting fast. Genny gets weird migraines and Callie needs some medication overnighted that’s going to be bad by Monday? And why does Genny need to take care of it? Why doesn’t Callie take care of it herself?

  And just how many boytoys does Genny have?

  Coming back into the living room, Genny grabs her phone off the coffee table. “Do you mind? I think they’re open until nine, so I have a few minutes to call them.”

  “It’s fine,” I reassure her. “This seems kind of urgent.”

  “Thank you. I’m sorry for anything she says to you.”

  She disappears up the stairs to get some peace and quiet, since Callie is still mumbling to herself in the kitchen. After plating a piece of the pizza she shouldn’t have, Callie flops onto the other side of the couch, eating in a much less dramatic way than Genny did.

  “I take it you’re Walker? The guys she’s supposedly just friends with?”

  “That’s me. I take it you’re the sister, Callie.”

  Her eyes roll back in her head as she cynically replies, “God, what did she tell you about me? I’m some ungrateful brat that’s ruining her life?”

  My eyebrows raise in surprise, and I think about the very little Genny’s said about her sister. “She hasn’t said too much about you. You’re in college. You like art, any I see here is yours, and you guys had a fight last weekend. That’s pretty much all I know.”

  “Oh. I thought she would’ve told you how awful I am to her.”

  “She never mentioned anything like that.”

  Callie sighs, looking up at me with resignation in those eyes that look so much Genny’s. “I shouldn’t be awful to her. She’s pretty amazing considering everything.”