Page 86 of There's No Us Without You
He’ll never know, though. He should be working until all hours of the morning, so it leaves plenty of time for me to sneak out and then sneak back in before he even notices I was missing.
My leg bounces as I stare out the car window, and the metallic taste of blood warns me I’m chewing the inside of my cheek way too hard.
It’s a bad habit I picked up over the years, likely because I’ve always had to bite my tongue around my mother.
It’s also become a nervous habit.
What if Tyler’s friends don’t like me?
However, there’s no time for my insecurities when the driver pulls up in front of the address Tyler sent me. I tap my card to pay, then climb out of the car, and wait until it speeds off before glancing up at the building.
Maybe Tyler sent me the wrong address, or I’m being punked because this place looks like it should be abandoned. The off-white paint is peeling from the outer walls, and by the looks of the deck, it should have collapsed by now.
For a moment I just stand in the front yard—which I’m assuming is supposed to be full of grass, however it’s just dirt and weeds—with my hands on my hips, while staring at the old weatherboard house and contemplating calling Will to come pick me up.
Instead of signing my own death warrant at the hands of the grumpiest man I’ve ever known, I force my legs to move forward. I have a new life now. One that involves not being a coward.
When I reach the deck, I plant my feet strategically on the least rotten of the floorboards and knock a couple of times on the battered door.
The beat from the music vibrates the entire house, and I lift my hand to knock again in case no-one heard the first time, but my knuckles miss the door when it opens inwards and Tyler hovers in the doorway, a wide grin on his face.
“Eden,” he says, pulling me in to his hard chest. “You made it.”
Swirls of cigarette smoke waft around my head, escaping into the warm night before Tyler drags me into the house, his hand gripping mine tightly before he kicks the door closed.
An older man—maybe in his thirties—with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth lifts his chin at Tyler before dragging his eyes over me. “Who’s this then?” he says around the butt.
“Not yours, Mikey.” Tyler shoves the man out of the way and keeps moving, all the while never letting go of my hand.
My entire face heats, and the pout Mikey gives us as we pass him is laughable.
Surely there’s a limit to how many people you can have in your house. Like how an elevator has a maximum capacity number and a weight limit.
It’s also so bloody hot and stuffy in here, I regret wearing jeans because I already have sweat beading down my back.
My grip on Tyler’s hand tightens, and I have no idea where to focus until he winks at me over his shoulder, his smile telling me I’ll be okay with him.
“Drink?” he says when we reach the old sage-green kitchen, with the tiled bench tops and missing cabinet doors.
“Sure.” I grip my bag and pull it up over my shoulder when someone charges past me, screaming about shots and strip poker.
“Fucking idiots.” Tyler shakes his head then taps a finger to his chin while glancing over the numerous bottles of alcohol lining a wall on the bench. “We have beer, wine, spirits?”
“Beer’s fine,” I say, smiling.
“You sure? I make an awesome cocktail.” He wiggles his eyebrows and holds up a bottle with bright-green contents.
“Positive.” I have no idea what it is, but my guess is it’d come straight back out the exact same colour.
“Done.” He hands me a red cup, then fills it from the keg sitting in a large crate full of ice. As he’s filling another one for himself, he nudges my shoulder. “So, did you tell my brother you were coming here tonight?”
“Nope,” I say with a shrug. “I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions.”
Tyler whistles. “It’s your funeral, beautiful. My brother is”—he scrunches up his nose—“complicated.”
A laugh escapes me, and I almost spill the contents of my cup onto the floor. “Complicated is putting it nicely.”
Tyler joins me. “Yeah, you’re right. Come on then,” he says, throwing an arm around my shoulders. “Let’s go get you into trouble.”
