Page 76 of Outlaw Heartstrings
Her head tilts to the side. “Okay. You guys are getting along? Good. So, what’s the problem?”
“We’ve been getting along a little too well.That’sthe problem,” I admit.
Jules shifts impatiently from one foot to the next. “Girl, you’re being cryptic. Spit it out. You’re killing me here.”
I glance around the alley to make sure we’re alone. Then, I start at the beginning, filling Jules in on all the details I’ve omitted to tell her over the past few weeks.
“We, um, we…well, I kissed him a while ago—after he asked me to,” I rush to add. “But we promised it wouldn’t happen again and that it wouldn’t make things weird between us. We really were trying to keep things strictly platonic. That is, until I admitted to being a virgin. And now, Easton has offered to…‘help me out’.”
“To help you out?” she questions.
“I told him that I was considering meeting someone from one of those hookup apps, and he went on this rant about how unsafe it is. And then…”
“And then…?” she rotates her wrist, making a speed-it-up motion. I can see her getting more excited with every word I struggle to string together.
I gather a breath. “Easton volunteered to fulfill every one of my fantasies, Jules…He even wants me to write him a wishlist.”
My friend screams, stomping her feet like a maniac before she launches herself at me for a hug.
I try to shrug the crazy lady off me, even as I find myself grinning, too. “Julissa—the man is basically my twin sister’s ex.”
“They never dated,” she rebuts dismissively.
“They havea childtogether,” I insist. “Well, I mean, we’re waiting for the new paternity test results, but it’s pretty much guaranteed.”
“Raya doesn’t get to be part of this equation.” Jules chuffs. “She left her kid with you and didn’t bother to look back. So she can fuck off as far as I’m concerned.”
My heart tightens like a fist. “That doesn’t mean I get to steal her family…”
“Herfamily?!” Jules laughs bitterly. “She doesn’t want her family. Nobody forced her to run off and leave her child behind.”
I chew on my lip, still not totally convinced.
My bestie rolls her eyes. “When are you going to stop making excuses for that bitch and just admit that she’s a terrible person?”
“But she was just eighteen…” I say softly.
“Newsflash—you were ‘just eighteen’, too. The difference is you stepped up and took on a responsibility that was never yours to carry. So again—Raya doesnotget to be the victim here.”
“But Jules…” I whine. “What kind of person would I be, playing sex genie with the father of my sister’s child?!”
“A sexually satisfied person, if the size of that man’s feet is any indication.” My friend chortles. “You know what they say about the size of a man’s feet?” She winks, stretching her arms as wide as they’ll go. “I’m betting his ‘thing’ isthisbig.”
Laughing, I give her shoulder a shove. “Be serious. Please.”
She sighs. “Alba, Alba, Alba. Loyal to everyone else. Meanwhile betraying yourself on a daily basis. Working yourself to the bone, taking care of your sister’s responsibilities. Protecting Jagger. Being there for your mom. Picking up the pieces your dad left behind. Doing nothing for yourself.” She shakes my shoulder roughly. “Girl, wake up!”
Her words hit deep, yet still, I resist. “Come on, Jules. I don’t want to be a terrible person.”
She vigorously wags her head. “You could never be a terrible person. You’re a person who spent your entire adult life putting everybody else first. When doyouget a turn?”
I feel my eyes start to water as I realize that I don’t have an answer for her. I don’t have a timeline for when I’ll finally make myself a priority. And that makes me sad.
She lays a hand on my shoulder. “Let me ask you a question—do you want to do this with Easton? Guilty conscience aside, be honest.”
I peek up at her with tears clinging to my lower lashes. “Yes…” I squeak, embarrassed.
When Easton first brought up this crazy idea of helpingme out, I thought,no freaking way. But then it dawned on me. Maybe this might actually be beneficial. If I ever want to have a real relationship someday, it would probably be best if I didn’t bumble through all the intimate parts like some awkward, forty-year-old virgin. I want to know what I’m doing. I want to know what Ilike.
