Page 35 of Secondhand Secrets

“Fine.” Despite his clear reluctance, he gave her a quick kiss through his shuffle out of bed.

Maybe it was another call from Encode. Or maybe some new emergency transpired. Not the Syndicate, again. Not his sister…

A loud bang came from his door just as he hiked his shorts on. “Hey, Chip, are you in there? I know you’re home, there’s a car in your drive. Open up.”

He paused a beat and then swung around to Ally, her eyes taking on an instant wide panic. “What? Who is that?”

He shook his head, momentarily unsure, until the banging started again and along came the words. “Chip, it’s Greg. Open up, dude. Jamie and Matt are waiting in the car.”

“Who the heck are Greg, Jamie, and Matt?” Her voice lifted to pitchy panic, and she clutched the bedsheets to her chest, her knuckles white and gaze darting about. “Oh God, where are my clothes?”

But she’d entered this room wearing no more than her bikini. There weren’t that many clothes to be sought.

More knocking, and his frustration grew. This wasn’t how he’d wanted his moment with Ally to end. Hell, he didn’t want it to end at all.

“Just hang on a minute, will you?” He yelled clear across the house and pulled a shirt from a pile of clean laundry in a basket by his window, tossing one to Ally too. Next, he lowered his tone and addressed her directly. “Just stay here. I’ll handle this. They’re college friends, and they weren’t supposed to be here till tomorrow.”

Sixteen

Ally sat alone at Chip’s kitchen table, save for his three friends who sat across from her, all avoiding her gaze and fidgeting awkwardly with their unoccupied hands. Meanwhile, Chip did as she’d already done and finished his shower, washing away all traces of river water and the earlier lovemaking they’d not-so-secretly engaged in.

She stared down at the table’s light timber for what felt like the millionth time, still not sure what to do here.

Did she get up and offer them a drink?

But this wasn’t even her house.

Was digging through Chip’s fridge even okay?

Where did he even keep his glasses?

The fact she didn’t know, plus her frozen state, only drove home just how much she did not belong here.

Maybe I could escape out a back window.

Crapola, his friend’s car blocked hers in the drive, so even an unannounced escape was out of the question. And to make matters worse, there’d been talk of everyone, including her, heading to Maynard’s for the night.

She ran her right foot up the inside of her opposite ankle, pushing at the hem of her ill-fitted pants since she’d been forced to wear some spare clothes Sarah had left behind in the guest room.

Of course, Sarah was a few inches taller, and so Ally’s current turquoise sweatpants were way too long, the borrowed peach t-shirt sagging a little low at the neckline too. Still, better than the t-shirt Chip had tossed her in his room.

“Sorry ‘bout this.” Chip’s friend, Jamie—who unexpectedly turned out to be a Black woman with a short and skinny build, wearing a dark t-shirt with Japanese cartoon ninja bunnies printed on the front—cringed. “We planned on arriving tomorrow, but bad weather meant we had to cancel one of our stops. So we figured there’d be no harm driving straight here. We didn’t expect…”

Ally closed her eyes against Jamie’s trailing words. It was pretty damn clear what his friends had interrupted, and now Ally’s cheeks burned, the skin over her neck taking on a hot prickle, her hair still wet from her shower and her makeup long gone.

Jeez Louise, I’m meeting his friends in the most embarrassing way possible.

“It’s fine.” She opened her eyes and plastered on what she hoped looked like an unbothered smile. “Chip says you’re on a road trip and planned on staying a couple of nights to get a taste of where he grew up.”

“Yep.” Greg squinted his already small blue eyes at her, more a probing look than anything hostile, his focused look bringing attention to the thin and prominent bridge of his nose. “The whole trip ends in San Fran.”

“San Francisco?” Ally tucked wet hair behind her ear, happy that at least some semblance of a conversation unfolded.

“Yep.” But before she could ask what was in San Francisco, Greg jumped in with, “So, how do you know Chip, anyway?”

“Chip and I have been friends since we were little.” Her skin burned anew, and she eyed Matt—with his somewhat squat build and light brown hair—the one friend yet to speak, although his overly still stare said what everyone here probably thought.

She and Chip were clearly something other than friends.

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