Page 75 of Summer with My Sexy Ex
Sometimes the easiest lies to believe are the ones you tell yourself.
Blanche:Ain’t that the truth?
His head is down with his chin to his chest. He doesn’t look good.
Ha! Maybe he’s sad about me after all.
Then I see him lurch to the waste bin and throw up, I think. It’s hard to tell from here. Blake stops and waits for him, setting his things down and pulling bottled water from one of the bags. He hands it to Wyatt once the latter straightens, who rinses his mouth and spits into the can.
So, he did throw up.
Yuck.
Is he drunk? Seasick?
They’re back on the move. I wave so Blake sees me. He nods in acknowledgment and says something to cause Wyatt’s head to snap up.
Our eyes meet. Sweat breaks out on my brow. My heart beats faster. Nowmystomach feels queasy. I’m probably a good one hundred and fifty feet away, but even from that distance, I can feel the anger spewing from Wyatt.
Wyatt says something to Blake, who shrugs in response. Wyatt looks angrier than he did a moment ago.
I get that; it pisses me off too when my brother shrugs instead of responding.
It takes another minute for them to reach me, with Wyatt walking slower than normal.
“Uh, hey, guys,” I say, my voice shaking slightly. “Want some help?” I gesture to their bags and take a step forward.
“No,” Wyatt snaps.
“Okay.” I back away, holding my hands up. They situate their bags on the cart, loading and unloading multiple times, trying to find the right configuration. I wonder if it was as comical to watch me and the cart driver who picked me up do the same.
It’s like a puzzle with no picture to go by as you solve it. Wyatt keeps sending dirty looks my way, so I finally turn my back on them and let them do their thing. If they don’t want my help, fine. I’m only the one who’s done this before.
It takes another five minutes before Blake announces, “Okay, I think that’ll do it.”
I turn back to face them, impressed that they got everything on the cart. Until I realize they didn’t leave an open seat for the third person.
Something falls on my nose, and I look skyward, worried a bird got me. But no, the clouds have darkened, and it’s starting to rain.
“Where am I supposed to sit?” I ask.
The two look at the cart and then back at me.
“Fuck,” Blake says. “We’ll have to all squeeze in the front.” Blake jumps in the driver’s seat, smart of him. I get in and scoot as close to my brother as possible, leaving approximately four inches for Wyatt’s big-ass body to sit.
“This is not going to work,” Wyatt says.
As if agreeing with him, the sky opens up, and rain pours. I get back out and study the cart to see if anything can be rearranged.
“Fuck.” This time, it’s Wyatt.
“Can you just sit on his lap, Brie?” Blake asks.
“No!” Wyatt and I parrot.
“Does one of you want to wait here, and I’ll come back and get you?” Blake asks.
“It’s fifteen minutes one way,” I tell them. “And that’s when it’s not raining.”
