Page 87 of Not Fooling Anyone

That’s true. He’s used to seeing me as the brunette, makeup-free girl trying to hide herself in baggy clothes. And while I’m still the latter most of the time, I’ve had to adapt.

I continue applying my eyeliner, the heavier the better. Customers seem to respond to the no-nonsense punk rocker persona I put on there. “I am a different person when I’m at work. I need their tips.”

“Your new bar going any better?”

“No,” I reply glumly, using a Q-Tip to smudge away the mistake I made. “The girl that does the scheduling still has it out for me. I managed to get a second shift tomorrow, but only because someone else quit last week.”

“Talk to her. Explain you need more shifts.”

He thinks I haven’t tried that? It’s like banging my head against a brick wall with Sarah.

“Thanks, Travis.” There’s no use getting into it with him, too. “I’ll do that.”

He beams, as if he made a difference. “Well, I’m headed out. I should be home around ten.”

“Okay, see you.”

He leaves the apartment, and I take my time applying mascara. This tube is way overdue to be replaced. One more thing to add to the list to buy once I get the Psych study money. We should be getting half the study payment this week.

Heating up the leftover ramen I made last night, I linger on the couch eating, wishing I had another one of Mia’s cookies. I can’t remember having a cookie so good. I’d have to go back over to Ethan’s to get one, but the idea doesn’t seem so daunting now. His friends were totally fine. Tyler wasn’t one for conversation, which was fine by me, and Mia seemed genuinely interested in talking to me. Maybe she’s around guys so much there, she was desperate for another girl to talk to.

My fork clatters against the bowl as a thought occurs to me. Does Ethan bring girls home? He has to. There’s no way he was that good with his tongue without practice.

I push down the sour feeling in my stomach, reminding myself that if he does, it’s none of my business. Despite keeping up appearances for the study, I don’t have a claim on him. And even if I did, he’s allowed to have past partners and experiences, the same as I do.

But the reminder doesn’t do all that much to satisfy me.

I get up and rinse out my bowl, needing a distraction, and decide to go ahead and drive to work, even though I’ll be early. Fat chance Sarah will let me clock in before my shift starts, but at least I can prep and be ready to hit the ground running.

I head out to my car and throw my bag in the passenger seat, checking my makeup one last time in the rearview mirror. Good enough.

But upon sticking my key in the ignition, it turns out things are not good. They’re awful, actually. The car won’t start.

“No, no,” I mutter to myself, trying to get it to work. This can’t happen now. If I miss today, Sarah will probably use it as an excuse to the general manager to fire me for being unreliable. Or, at the very least, take away my shift for tomorrow too.

Now I wish I’d taken Dad up on his offer a year or so ago to teach me more about my car, but at the time, I was so determined to push him away, to prove I didn’t need him. He’d moved back here, asking to be a part of my life, but I felt like it was too little, too late. Things have gotten better since then, but we’re still not as close as we could be. Why do I do this to myself?

I pull out my phone, about to call him to come out and see what’s wrong. I could even call Travis to turn around and give me a jump.

But I don’t call either of them. I call the one person I already know bone deep I can count on. Who would drop whatever he’s doing to help me. Who has continually shown me he’s there for me.

“Lexie,” Ethan says, a smile in his voice. “What’s up?”

“I need help.”

His tone instantly switches to serious. “Of course. What is it? Are you okay?”

Relief floods through me. He agreed without even knowing what’s wrong. “My car won’t start, and I have to get to work.”

“You’re not on the side of the road or anything, are you?”

“No, I’m at my apartment.”

“Good. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

After telling him my address, I head back inside to wait, throwing on a sweater before he sees me in this outfit. I’m thankful now I left early. I might still get to work on time.

I pace the living room, wondering if Ethan’s annoyed I only called him when I needed something. I picked up my phone so many times yesterday, debating whether to text him, to see if he wanted to hang out like he suggested, but I’m so unsure about what this is, what we’re doing, where all this is headed. What am I to him? And what is he to me?

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