Page 9 of Secrets and S'mores
The Delta, Fisher, has disappeared, but Onyx still trails behind me. “Don’t worry about anything you find in here. Bri’s a weirdo.”
“I won’t snoop,” I say, my hands clenching defensively.
“Thank you, dear,” Clove says.
At the same moment, Onyx says, “Oh please, snoop away.”
With a sigh, she ignores her son and continues, “Briar cleared out her top two drawers, so you can unpack into those if you’d like to.”
It’s so considerate, I stiffen. If the packs were reversed, I would be tossed into a basement and locked away for my entire stay. Instead, this pack has made an effort to make sure I am comfortable and welcome.
“It’s only a few days,” I say, my voice too high. “I can manage out of my suitcase. But tell her thank you for me.”
“Of course. I’ll leave you be. Onyx, keep an eye on the clock. It’s only twenty minutes until dinner. I need to head back to help Crickett in the diner.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says to her retreating back.
I blink at his respectful response. He’s always been so rude or mocking to me, the gracious son routinestartles me.
“You can just-” I start, holding my hand out for my duffle. Onyx sets it on the foot of the twin bed but doesn’t back away.
“What do you want?” I ask, challenging him. His proximity flitters across my skin like electricity.
For a moment he is silent. Just when I doubt he will say anything, he murmurs, “Did you know?”
“Know what?”
He’s lost his mind.
“That you were coming to stay here.”
“Well, I obviously figured it out when they stuck me in a car and drove here,” I say, obstinately refusing to answer his question.
“That’s not what I meant. At the gathering. Did you already know about this visit?”
“I found out the next morning, dude.”
He scoffs.
“What? Did you think I was setting up some sort of booty call before thislovelyvacation?” I press, sarcasm heavy in my words.
“Well,” he says with a shrug. His t-shirt rises with the motion to reveal the waistband of his gray sweatpants and a sliver of tan skin.
“You’re the one who came on to me,” I hiss.
“Are you serious? You grabbed me,” he argues, his low voice a caress along my rib cage.
I’ve been here five minutes and I’m already fighting with this asshole.
“You’re delusional,” I shoot back.
“You practically pulled me on top of you,” he continues, extending hisvowels dramatically.
Forcing myself to step closer, I grab a handful of his t-shirt to demonstrate how absurd his claim is. “Yes, I grabbed you and suctioned your mouth on my neck. You had no choice.” My biting words seem to weaken leaving my mouth. I’m distracted by the feel of his chest against my knuckles.
“That’s pretty much how I remember it,” he breathes. No longer angry, his words tease me, sending tingles from my chest to my toes.
“We were drunk,” I say. Glaring into his endless eyes, I double down on my lie. “And you’re a man-whore.” I know it’s a cheap shot and probably not true, but it’s the only thing that comes to mind.
