Page 61 of The Big Easy & Other Lies
“Livvie’s.”
He picked up the sewing machine and led the way to the Jelly Bean. I hated the stiff look of his shoulders. I hated that the tension was my fault. He was myboyfriend.Boyfriends needed explanations. Deserved them, even. So how to explain Delphine?
“I’m sorry about not inviting you over,” I said. “It’s not because I don’t want you there. It would be so much better if you were.” Except for the part where Delphine scared him away forever.
The hard planes of his mouth softened. “I don’t know what rules we’re playing by. You’ll have to explain them to me. Are there things that Livvie and Bran get to do that I don’t?”
I sighed. “Neither of them has ever been in my house.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Ever?”
“I know it’s weird.”
“Yes.”
“It’s just...” I leaned against the car, trying to find the guts to explain. Deep breaths. Deeeeeeeep breaths. The nausea still spiked. “My aunt’s a hoarder.” I said it with no inflection and waited for his disgust.
“A hoarder? Like on the TV show?” He looked confused, not repulsed.
“Pretty much exactly like that,” I said. “And it’s as gross as it looks on TV, too.”
He considered that for a moment. “So you don’t let anyone inside.”
I shrugged. “No.”
“Livvie and Bran don’t seem like they would care about something like that. Why not let them in?”
“A few reasons, I guess.” I studied my purple flats. “I’ve only brought one friend to my house, and that was in eighth grade. I warned her. But after she came over, she told the whole school about the inside and then I became Garbage Girl for the rest of the year. She wasn’t even trying to be mean. She was just so shocked, I think.” A hot wave of humiliation made tears prick behind my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall. “I’m not like Delphine. I don’t hold onto things like she does. But I can’t control the mess.”
He stayed quiet for so long that I had time to blink all the tears back and look up. He was staring off at a magnolia tree, his expression thoughtful. “I want to say I get it, but I won’t know whether I do or not until I see it for myself.” He smiled down at me, reaching out to slip his hand over mine. “But I don’t want to stress you out. We’ll figure out some way to hang out. There will eventually have to be a time when Angelique’s gone from my houseandyou’re not working, right?”
“Right,” I said, relieved that he wanted to make the effort. No real-life guy would fight as hard for a girl as Sterling did for Trista in Mom’s story, but Rhett’s willingness to compromise gave me hope.
He pulled me into a hug and his thin frame felt as solid as if he were a Saints linebacker.
“You’d be more comfortable if you moved that to the backseat!” Bran yelled a moment later, and Rhett’s laugh rumbled against my chest.
“He’s so right,” he whispered.
I poked him and glared at Bran over Rhett’s shoulder. Livvie stood right behind him.
“We have to bounce, Cam. My mom’s making fried chicken for supper!” She jerked her door open and threw her purse into the back seat.
“Quit bragging about fried chicken. Can you pop the trunk? I’m bringing home a sewing machine.”
“That’s super cool,” she said, eyeing it. “How’d you score it?”
I told her while Bran hefted it into place. I was wrestling my school bag into the backseat when I heard Bran’s voice, a half-octave lower than usual, say, “Hey, girl.” Chloe must have shown up. I turned to find him tucking her under his arm. “You ready to go?”
She nodded and they both waved before heading to his truck. He’d taken to driving himself lately so he could give Chloe a ride.
After a quick hug from Rhett, I hopped in the car and buckled up.
“How are the new kid, the class clown, and the senior hermit all getting more play than I am right now?” Livvie grumbled.
“What about Trent?”
“He’s boring.”
