Page 41 of No Romeo
“Kyle, you can pull into the drive.”
He shook his head adamantly. “No. Who knows what he’ll do if I’m trespassing on his property.”
I glanced through the window at the dark house. “He’s not even here.”
The puff of his inhaler sounded. “He’ll know!”
Kyle was beyond ridiculous, but there was no changing him.
On a sigh, I took the Taco Casa bag from the footwell, then got out and hauled my sole box from the back seat. The engine revved before Kyle pulled away, the glow of his taillights fading as he rounded the corner in a squeal of tires.
He’ll know… I almost rolled my eyes as I trudged through the tall grass. Like Hendrix had some kind of Spidey-sense…
I rounded the side of the house. The motion light cut on, shining over the old trampoline in the backyard. The one Hendrix and I had played on as kids. The one we had made out on as teenagers. Everything in this place was attached to a happy memory.
I set my box on the porch steps, then swiped spiderwebs away from the little wooden birdhouse on the top stair and grabbed the spare key from inside.
It felt so weird to walk into his house the way I used to.
My gaze drifted over the old cabinets, the peeling wallpaper, the crayon drawings Hendrix and I had doodled on the wall when we were six.
Moving in here may not have been smart, but I couldn’t deny it felt good to be home. I dumped the Taco Casa bag on the counter, then carried on through the house, glancing through Hendrix’s open door when I reached the top of the stairs.
A sliver of light from the hall cut across his room, catching on something sparkly on the floor. I shouldn’t have looked, shouldn’t have pushed the door open and stepped inside… I scooped up a glittery hair clip that sure as hell wasn’t mine.
I hadn’t noticedthatbefore I had let him fuck me.
I didn’t know who had left it or when. I didn’t need to. We were roommates. A one-night stand. Roommates!
God, if ever I needed any confirmation of my sheer level of pathetic desperation, then willingly subjecting myself to this was it.
I broke the stupid clip, tossed it into the bathroom trashcan, then stormed into the spare room and unpacked my meager box of belongings. I didn’t have much. Some clothes and toiletries, mainly trinkets and notes from Hendrix—the guy who kept sparkly hair clips.
Finally, I pulled out Sid the Sloth, a stuffed toy Hendrix had won me from a Wal-E-Mart claw machine when we were kids. It was my most prized possession, the only thing I couldn’t bear to lose.
And he had glittery, shit hair clips…
I’d just placed Sid on the worn bedspread when the doorbell rang. Then rang again. And again.
Annoyed, I jogged down the stairs and opened the door.
Virginia Ford stood on the threshold in a pink sundress, blond hair swept up in a high ponytail. She’d had a thing for Hendrix freshman year. Just like most of the girls.
One time she came over to one of his and Zepp’s parties and flashed her tits. Hendrix screamed and said his corneas had been burned. She didn’t find it nearly as funny as I had. Why in the hell wasshehere?
“What do you want, Virginia?”
“It’s Gigi now.” She gave me a once over, then popped her gum. “I just stopped by to get my hair clip.”
Herhairclip? That sparkly, glittery piece of shit belonged to Virginia Ford. He had fucked her? Fucked. Her. A nuclear blast exploded in my brain, and I fought to keep it off my face.
She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. I wanted to rip out every over-bleached lock and set fire to it in front of her.
“I left it here last night,” she said with a smile.
Last night?
Last.
