Page 43 of Stupid Dirty

“What?”

His hands go up in the air while his voice stays low. “I’m not giving you shit, and this conversation stays between us. I know not everyone here would feel the same way. It’s not a big deal. I’m just asking you, are you two involved? Because you’re talkingabout him like he hung the fucking moon, and I’ve never seen you talk about anyone this way. Not even Wish.”

The laugh that comes out of me sounds too loud and too high. It’s weird.

“No, man. I’m not like, repressed or something.” Tristan doesn’t say anything, he just keeps staring at me, so my mouth continues to make sounds without permission from my brain. “My best friend is bi. I have multiple queer friends. I’m a thousand percent not homophobic. If I were into guys, I’d know by now, and fuck these assholes if they didn’t like it. But full-ass adults don’t wake up one day and change their sexual orientation. Not unless they grew up in some shitty situation that wouldn’t let them figure it out sooner.”

He doesn’t cut off my rambling, but he does look kind of sad as he watches me talk.

“I’d know by now.” The words sound weak, even as I say them. A squirrelly, vulnerable feeling takes root in my chest, and I have nothing to fight it with except anger. I don’t even try to control my temper when it hits, and there’s venom in my voice as I keep going. “I get enough of this shit from people about me and Wish being friends. I don’t need you starting it with Silas as well. Close, platonic friendships exist, dude. If you haven’t had any, maybe you’re the problem.”

It’s a mean thing to say, and I can already glimpse the guilt that will take over once the flush of rage fades.

I flash back to the moment in my room the other day, after Dad left. Silas and I were sitting on my bed and I felt enveloped by this warm, safe, contained feeling I’d never encountered before. I wanted to…something. I don’t know. I wanted more. And when he looked at me with that intense expression, I felt like he wanted more of it, too.

Now isn’t the time to process that, though. I can sort those jumbled thoughts out when I’m not halfway through anargument with my coworker who I’m half friends with and half secretly scared of.

Tristan obviously didn’t make it through whatever mystery combat zone by being a hot-head, so my pissy comment seems to roll right off him. He sighs, and continues to look at me with that too-knowing expression, tinged with sadness. When he speaks, I feel like he’s treating me with kid gloves, which makes me want to lash out at him again.

“Look, Cade, I know you and I are more work friends than friend-friends, so I don’t want to overstep. But I know what it’s like to have to be an adult way too young. It probably doesn’t seem like it, but you are still young. So young. You are allowed to still be figuring yourself out. Some people spend their whole lives figuring their shit out. If you’re saying there’s nothing romantic with you and Silas because you don’t feel that way, fine. But if you’re telling yourself therecan’tbe anything between you two because twenty-two is too old to realize you might not be one hundred percent straight? That’s fucking stupid.”

I get squirmy.

“And either way, my co-dependent comment stands. Just think about it.”

There are too many thoughts spinning in my head to pick one out, so I try to ignore the cacophony and turn my attention back to work.

“Oh, and Cade?”

I turn back to him one more time, still frustrated and annoyed. “What?”

“You’ve got puke in your hair. Might want to shower after your existential crisis is finished.” And then he gives me the biggest, most shit-eating grin I’ve ever seen.

The man’s a sadist.

This shift cannot be over fast enough.

Chapter Eighteen

Staying with Cade is weird. It’s all chaos; between his mom being on a bender and the girls working through their trauma by fighting with Cade about everything. The trailer is messy and run-down, and there’s nowhere near enough space for all of us.

Plus, there’s the constant, looming threat that his dad will show up to kick the shit out of us. Which is why I’m still here. According to Cade’s cousin, Kyle Waters still hasn’t left town.

But it’s also all very…domestic.

My house is bigger and has a lot more food in the fridge, but never felt half as welcoming to walk into. I love getting to come home to someone who is actually happy to see me. And I love getting to rest easy knowing that Cade is right in front of me, safe and sound.

We’re still sharing his bed, because there’s nowhere else for me to go. Folding both of us into a double bed is a tight squeeze, but it’s better than trying to sleep in the bathtub.

And I can’t deny I like having him close. In case he needs me.

I hate feeling like I’m in his way, though. I manage to be underfoot all night, constantly in the wrong place while he’s trying to make food or go to the freaking bathroom. Doubt begins to creep in about how much good it’s really doing for me to be here.

Maybe I’m just staying to make myself feel better and he’s putting up with me to be nice, even if it’s annoying. I’ve apologized so many times tonight that by the time we’re climbing into bed, Cade looks like he wants to deck me. I only stop when he threatens to make me sleep on the porch if I don’t shut up about it.

“If it makes you feel better, you can consider this repayment for me saving your drunk ass from drowning in the quarry. I rescue you, you rescue me, and every time we end up crammed into a teeny tiny bed together. It’s the circle of life, apparently. So hakuna matata and go the fuck to sleep.”

I laugh, making him grin even though his eyes are already closed. It eases some of that doubt that had been sitting in my chest like a lead weight.

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