Page 21 of You and Me, For Real
“No. Not you.” She comes around the counter and starts guiding me sideways.
I stand firm, halting her progress. “Are you throwing me out? A polite no would have sufficed.” I laugh, trying to diffuse her tension. Have I offended her?
“It’s not that. I just need you to not be here.” She starts pushing me this time.
“Is it your boss from yesterday? Because I think she kind of liked?—”
“No. It’s not her.”
It’s cute—the way her face scrunches up and her adorable attempt at brute force. I could easily remain immobile, but the fact is, I’m enjoying this feisty side of her. I let her propel my feet backward. “You want me to come back later?”
“No, I mean you can’t beseenright now.”
“Why?” My head whips toward the door, trying to catch sight of the incoming customer, but no one has stepped out yet. Most people love being seen with me, and yet she wants to hide me? This woman is baffling.
“I’m so sorry about this, but I promise it’s for your own good. Give me five minutes. That’s it.”
She reaches around me, swings open a door, and shoves me inside. I stumble backward. My feet catch on something, and my butt hits a mop bucket with athunk.
“Five minutes.” She holds up her hand. “Please.”
“If you wanted to make out in a closet, all you had to do was ask nicely.”
“What?” Her cheeks pink. “No, it’s not like?—”
The front door chimes.
“Wait. Please,” she whispers and shuts the door in my face.
It’s the brokenpleasethat keeps me frozen with my butt in a bucket, patiently waiting for her to return.
7
ASHTON
What is my sister doing here?
More importantly, how did she find me?
Cecily enters the shelter, and I’m taken aback. Same blonde hair—albeit slightly less platinum—same figure, same car…and yet, my sister looks nothing like the one I’d left over five years ago. She’s dressed casually in a plain white tee, partially tucked into jeans, and is that a paint splotch? She’s paired the ensemble with flat sandals. I repeat,flatsandals. My sister never goes anywhere without heels on.
She removes her sunglasses, and I barely refrain from gasping. She has zero makeup on. This woman may resemble my sister, but there’s no way my sister would willingly go out in public without an ounce of makeup.
“Cecily?”
Her steps are slow and timid, again, not at all like my bold, assertive older sister. “Hi, sis.”
I blink. And blink again. I must be hallucinating.
She smiles, unsure, self-conscious. I don’t trust it one bit. I peer around her, scanning the parking lot for cameras. I don’tsee any, which is slightly confounding, but perhaps it’s her scheduled day off. “What are you doing here?”
Her face immediately wilts. “I wanted to see you.”
I cross my arms. “Why? After all this time?”
She deflates, and her arms fall to her sides. “You changed your name. Your number. You disappeared. How was I supposed to find you?”
“That was the point.”
