Page 30 of Some Like 'Em Burly
“Why?” I blurt. I mean, I know whyIwant that, but why would Meg? She rolls her eyes, dropping to the center of the rug to do push ups.
She exhales between her teeth, counting out her set. Whenever she makes me do these with her, I have to do the wimpy version where you keep your knees on the floor.
And who does this? Who works out and chats at the same time? Why isn’t she red-faced and spluttering for breath like a normal human being?
Alien. Gotta be.
“Because I’m going to Scotland next year after graduation, and you two will only have each other.” Meg shifts her hand placement, dipping straight into another push up. “You should get used to spending time together. Otherwise you’ll both be lonely, and I’d hate that.”
My stomach has sunk way, way down. It’s below sea level.
I fiddle with the mascara tube, picking at the label.
I’ve been trying not to think about Meg leaving. She’s the closest thing to a real family that I have, and once she’s gone…
It’s gonna suck. That’s all.
“So would I, but Meg… I don’t think we’ll see each other much when you’re gone.”
It’s just logic. My own parents lost interest in me long before I left for college—why on earth would Meg’s dad stick around? Duke doesn’t owe me anything.
And sure, we spend a lot of time together, but Meg’s always there. She’s the glue; the reason we’re all in the same place at the same time. Put Meg in Scotland, and Duke and I have no excuse to visit each other any more.
Exhaling shakily, I start brushing mascara over my lashes. Life without Duke? Sounds miserable.
“Bullshit.” Meg springs up, slick muscles flexing, and Iknowshe’s checking herself out in the mirror. So vain. I raise an eyebrow, and she pokes out her tongue.
I don’t even register that she’s wandered to my nightstand until I hear the whisper of pages turning. My heart thumps, and I’m rigid. Hands clammy. Tongue thick.
“Please don’t read that,” I grind out.
Meg grunts, flipping my journal closed. God, I can’t believe I left that lying there, open for anyone to read. Did she see what I wrote about her dad?
Crap. Almost every single page in that journal has something about Duke. My fantasies about him; my daydreams. All the shameful things I can’t say out loud.
I open my mouth and close it again. I’m such an idiot. What have I done?
“Look lively,” Meg says, like nothing happened at all. She winks at me in the mirror as she crosses to the guest room door. Her undone laces whip against her sneaker as she walks. “Don’t want to miss your riverboat.”
Maybe she didn’t read it. Or maybe the parts she read weren’t that bad. I swallow, and my mouth is so dry.
“Dad!” Meg yells from the corridor, her voice echoing through the house. “Hot date time! I hope you wore that good shirt!”
She wouldn’t joke about that if she’d read my journal. Would she?
I stand, smoothing down my sundress.
It’s fine. Everything’s fine.
My best friend doesn’t know that I’m head over heels in love with her dad. There’s no need to panic.
Duke
I’m panicking. This was a bad idea. A whole evening alone with Clementine, out on a boat beneath the stars? Eating together, sipping wine? Just the two of us away from reality for a few hours?
Bad idea. Bad, bad idea.
Even the band playing on the top deck is really good. Fuck. We need someone to knock over a table or something. A gross smell to float up from the river. Anything to make this feel less perfect, less like a date.
