Page 12 of Austen, Edited

Chapter 7

Greyson’s visit to their spot filled Abby with both happiness and irritation. Other than right before he left for Princeton, the last time he’d come there had been just after he and Hannah had started dating. He’d come to invite her to be the third wheel to a movie downtown. And then Hannah had spilled an entire cup of sticky soda all over her. She’d shivered through the movie between the cold of the liquid and the air conditioner blowing overhead. It didn’t help that Hannah did nothing to help her clean up either.

And then he’d never come back after Abby overheard the girl saying how childish it was to have a secret hideout over the age of twelve. Abby had refused to go inside the playhouse since they’d started dating, knowing the crushing memories would only make things worse. But there was still something relaxing about the line of trees blocking out all problems in her life for an hour or two once in a while.

Sure, it might be a little weird, but when the real house she lived in couldn’t be considered a home because she was a guest, more like a servant, the hideout was her best option for relaxing after a long day.

She stood and folded up her chair, carrying it through her uncle’s bushes that blocked the trees on the other side. “What are we watching?”

Greyson fell into step next to her and shrugged, his hands in his pants pockets. He was so carefree when he did that, as if he had nothing pulling him back from what he wanted in life. It only took one glance up to her uncle’s home to know that wasn’t even a possibility for her. She’d have to scrimp and save, eventually figuring out what she wanted to do with her life.

She admired the bright green polo Greyson wore, but as her eyes moved down his arms, the cut of it showed off his large biceps. He’d always paid attention to his fitness routine, but now it seemed as though he’d upped his weightlifting game, which did not hurt his physique.

Trying to get rid of those thoughts, she shifted her gaze to the large deck in front of her. She waited for his response, her cheeks burning. Why couldn’t she just go back to hating him?

“I’m game for anything. We could just rent something through the TV. The real question is, what do you want to eat?”

“Chinese sounds really good right now.” She’d had pasta with the Harringtons the night before, and her favorite Chinese restaurant had been closed for renovations until a few days ago.

“My house or yours?” Greyson turned his head just enough to look at her, a smile playing on his lips.

Abby glanced toward her uncle’s home, several windows illuminated against the darkening night. “Yours. Let me change, and I’ll come over.”

“Just come around back. I’ll leave the door open.” Greyson waved as he cut through the hedge that divided the property between the houses. She didn’t realize she’d stopped to watch him walk away, a slight anxiety filling her as she remembered the last time something similar had happened.

But this time, if he did walk away, she wouldn’t let it break her like before.

She hurried up the back steps and over the large patio. Walking through the kitchen, she slowed her pace as she walked past the large living room, hoping her cousins wouldn’t notice she was there.

“Abby, it’s been a while,” Stacy said, turning her head against the back of the couch to peer over it. She held up her hand, flipping channels on the massive television in front of her. “What’s new?”

After a quick breath, Abby pasted on a smile. “Not a whole lot. Just enjoying one more weekend before school starts up. When do you and Gwen go back to college?”

“I’m not!” Stacy squealed. She turned around and held out her hand, displaying a large square-cut diamond ring dwarfing her finger.

“You’re engaged?” Abby said through clenched teeth. “That was kind of fast. What’s his name again?” Stacy had a habit of dating just about every guy in Boston who was willing. The fact that she flaunted her father’s business probably helped too. As the owner of City Athletics, the sporting goods company, many guys were lured in with the promise of some of the top athletic gear. That usually wasn’t enough to hold their attention, though, as Stacy was more clingy than a sticker to cotton fabric.

“We’re getting married in December. I’ve always wanted a wedding at Christmas.” She beamed, and Abby’s eyes shifted in Gwen’s direction, Stacy’s younger sister by a year. Gwen just shook her head.

Nodding, Abby said, “Congrats. I’ll see you later.”

Running up the stairs, she was able to avoid any more conversation from her cousins. After almost twelve years living under that roof, she’d come to realize that the more she kept herself hidden, the less trouble or discomfort she’d have to go through. Her aunt and uncle paid for just about everything when it came to their daughters’ whims, but when Abby asked for anything, it was scrutinized almost to the point that she did everything she could to pay for it herself.

She was just grateful they’d agreed to pay for college, although the high tuition without a real direction on where to work after graduation made her do whatever she could to appease them without giving up her principles.

Opening her closet, Abby tried to decide what to wear. Did she want to look nice even though they were just watching a movie in the Campbell home theater? Or did she just go with her style from forever and dress comfortably?

She opted for a five-minute makeover and applied mascara and blush. She ran the straightener through her hair and added some simple pearl earrings. With a flowy top and some comfy but nice stretchy jeans, she was satisfied she looked fresh and clean but not like she was trying too hard.

Instead of chancing another conversation by walking past her cousins again, Abby went down the back stairs and out the door, ducking through the same bushes Greyson had passed through several minutes before. With her favorite minky blanket in tow, she jogged over to the back door they always used.

The Campbell home was at least three times the size of her uncle’s, packing in a home theater, indoor sports court, and a large kitchen with a personal chef that felt more like a restaurant. Strangely, it felt homier than next door, at least until Maria Campbell appeared.

Ducking into the theater, the smell of popcorn made her smile. Greyson loved popcorn as much as she did, and with their popcorn machine, he would melt extra butter to put on top of it.

“You made it,” he said through a handful of popcorn. He was already sitting in the second row of recliners and patted the seat next to him with his free hand. “We’re ready to go.”

Abby raised an eyebrow as she sank into the soft seat, trying not to let the feelings she’d kept locked up for so long simmer to the surface. “You already picked the movie?”

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