Page 49 of Personal Foul

When she eventually pulls away, she’s wiping her eyes with her fingers, sniffing, and shaking her head. “Sorry. I … yeah. Sorry.”

Instead of responding to her ridiculous apology, I gently guide her to the living room, where I hand her a box of tissues. Tears still escape from her eyes as she looks at me, seeming mystified by the box of tissues I’m holding out to her.

After a second, she takes one and blows her nose, then takes another to mop her face. “God, I’m a mess.”

“You can sit down,” I suggest quietly, claiming my own seat.

She glances around like she’s never noticed there’s a couch in my living room before, studies the seat I think of as hers after she stayed over the other night, then finally sits, carefully perched on the edge.

I study her a minute, but she keeps her attention focused either on the tissue in her hands, the coffee table, or the blank TV screen. Never even glancing at me, though I know she must be aware of me watching her.

Clearing my throat, I shift in my seat. “What happened?”

She glances at me out of the corner of her eyes. “Umm … I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”

With a smirk, I shake my head. “Nuh-uh. You do too. You said, ‘Especially now,’ earlier. Like something’s happened. Things have changed. What happened?”

Looking away again, she settles back on the couch and crosses her arms. When she meets my eyes again, she looks like she’s put her armor back on, the vulnerability from a moment ago blocked out as though it never existed despite her puffy eyes, smeared mascara, and tear tracks on her cheeks.

“Why in the world would I tell you the answer to that question?”

I spread my arms and look around. “Who else are you gonna tell, Charity? Who else knows all the bullshit you’ve got going on? You can’t talk to Isabelle or your other friends. They barely know you.”

“I could talk to my sister,” she fires back.

I nod slowly, filing away the tidbit about her having a sister. “Have you?” She looks away again, and that’s all the confirmation I need. “You clearly need to talk to someone about it. I’m here. I already know the pertinent backstory details. I might even be able to help.”

That makes her laugh. It’s a hard, brittle laugh, though. Not the free, full-throated one from the other night.

Which makes me think that whatever, ‘Especially now’ means, it happened since Friday night.

She looks doubtful about my assertion that I might be able to help. Snorting, she shakes her head. “How in the world would you be able to help?”

I spread my hands again. “Never know until you tell me what’s going on.”

Sucking in a breath, she holds it a moment before letting it out. “My dad’s assets are frozen.” The words are so quiet I almost don’t catch them. If the TV had been on, or hell, even the heater, I might’ve missed what she said.

“Meaning …”

She levels her gaze at me. “Meaning my parents have no access to money. I have no way of paying next semester’s tuition. I have to figure out a way to pay for all the things they pay for if I want to keep having all those little extras like groceries and streaming services and a phone and …” Her voice catches, and she clamps her lips shut, shutting off the flow of words and the potential for more tears accompanying the recitation of all the things she now needs to pay for.

“When did you find out?”

Her eyes squeeze shut, and she shakes her head, seeming to shrink in on herself again. “Yesterday.” It’s a whisper.

I nod. That tracks and accounts for the change between when she left here yesterday and now. “What are you going to do?”

She shrugs and shakes her head again, biting her lip, but she doesn’t say anything.

Opening my mouth, I take a breath, preparing to launch into a thousand questions—How will you pay your rent? Have you talked to your sister? Does she know? How old is she? Where does she live? Is she able to pay for things or will you be responsible for her too? What will you tell your roommate?—but close it again.

I’m sure she’s been running through a similar list since she found out. Somehow me asking all those questions rapid fire doesn’t seem helpful at the moment.

The truth is, I really could help. In several ways. I could give her the money to cover at least this month pretty easily, which would buy her some time to get other options sorted. Hell, I could offer to cover her for the rest of the semester. It might pinch into my personal fun money a bit, but nothing I couldn’t handle. Or I could offer to let her move in here, which would ease some of that if I’m not paying her rent too.

Of course, then I’d have to answer a series of questions from my parents, and they’d make some big assumptions about my dating life, whether she moved in with me or not. Still, I could handle it.

The issue with all of that is I don’t think she’d accept my help. At least not that kind of help.

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