Page 2 of Codi
“What?” I grin shamelessly, the memory still vivid in my mind. “It was a dare. Besides, she had it coming. Remember when she sentenced you to detention for basically existing?”
“Walking to the bathroom without a hall pass.” Beccatsks. “God, that place was like a correctional facility at times.”
“And somehow, we ended up working there.” I shake my head, taking another drink. “What the hell were we thinking, right?”
“That whole town is just one big trap,” Becca agrees, lifting her glass. “I’m glad we got out. Though I’m pretty sure the entire student population mourned when their favorite school nurse turned in her notice.”
“Please. Moving here was easy. Anything to get away from fuckingPrincipal Carlisle.” I say the name in the stuffiest accent I can, sniffing. “And her high-as-fuck horse. Whose shit never stank, not once.”
“I feel so bad about what she did, shaming Lucy Warren like that in front of the faculty.” Becca shakes her head. “And me standing there silent, letting her do it. What a coward I used to be.”
“You had your own shit to deal with. I don’t blame you.”
“At least you said something.”
“Somebody had to.” I rest my elbows on our table. “Think Carlisle’s still fucking the gym teacher?”
We share devilish laughter. “Definitely.” Becca checks her phone for messages and seeing none, puts it into her purse. “Probably thinks it’s still a secret too.”
Some friendships fall apart after high school, but ours stayed strong. I grew out of my cringeworthy goth-punk-whatever phase and did my best to burn all the evidence of it, but Becca remains the sweetheart with nothing to be ashamed of but a few yearbook photos with braces. She was at college getting honors while I was partying through my early and mid-twenties without a care in the world, flitting from one bad breakup to the next.
“Look at him, over there,” Becca whispers, pointing to a man with his friends across the tavern at another table.
I give him a quick glance. Brown hair swept to the side, nice face—
Then he pulls out a cigarette. My old bad girl mentality knocks tentatively on the glass I coop her up behind and yells,fuck yes, why not. It’s beenforever.
“Nah. No smokers.” I look away before our eyes meet.
“Maybe he’d quit,” Becca offers hopefully.
“You know better than me that men don’t change for shit.” I sway a little, enjoying the music. A little too Celtic for my tastes and not quite the old classics I enjoy, but still fun enough to make me tap my feet. “Try again.”
She points out another. “Him?”
“Too short.”
“What about him?”
“Too thin. I don’t want to date a toothpick.”
“And him?”
“Redhead. I don’t do redheads.” That’s not entirely true. I’ve done a redhead. But it was a mistake, one of many. Sweet Becca doesn’t need to know about that one. “Is this girls’ night or hook-up-sad-single-Denise night?”
“Sorry.” She laughs, finally letting it go. “I just want you to be happy.”
“I know.” I wave a server over to get her another drink. “And I love you for it.”
It’s not her fault. She doesn’t know I’ve practically given up. For some people, love’s just not in the cards, and I burned through my deck years ago.
Love never stuck for me, not in the romantic sense. Boyfriends always yelled, broke things, or cheated. Sometimes they did all three, or none at all, and I broke up with them anyway because they just didn’t feel right. I was beginning to think love didn’t exist at all, until one night with some guy I can barely remember. An expired condom later, he was nowhere to be found, and I was knocked up and in trouble.
Fast forward to Lucas being born on a rainy April afternoon, and I had purpose, direction, and new light. My life did a complete one-eighty. I got a job, went to night school, worked my ass off, got my nursing degree, and my baby boy hasn’t wanted for anything since then.
I still have to work my ass off, but I don’t need a man to make ends meet, and I’ve sworn many times over that I never will. I have, however, needed my best friend and some quality girl time. Which is precisely why I dragged her out today. Becca finally got the happily ever after she deserves. She has Oliver now, and he’s the whole package and more. Now him? He is aman.
Well... he’s a man, but he’s not a human. He’s 100 percent machine. He’s also 100 percent dreamy. He’s my best friend’s husband, so he’s definitely off limits, but hell, looking isn’t illegal. I appreciate the eye candy.
