LAYING ON MY back in the middle of my bed, I pick at the worn, fraying cuff of my sleeve as I look around my childhood bedroom.
I haven’t lived here since before I moved in with Richard. Nothing has changed though. The walls are still painted hot pink and the ceiling is still decorated with those glow-in-the-dark stars. I stuck them up there without asking permission first. One is missing. It fell down sometime when I was in high school and took a patch of drywall with it.
My mom was thrilled. This is probably why she hasn’t bothered to remove the rest. It’ll ruin her ceiling.
I never expected to be back in this room. Once you move out of your parents’ house, you think that's it. I used to love it here. The bright color. The walk-in closet where I’d sit and talk on the phone for hours with the door closed. And where I also hid my first minis I got at a party and anything else I didn’t want my parents finding. But now, now the walls are too bright and the carpet irritates the bottoms of my feet. I miss CJ’s room. The muted tones and the cold wood floors. The freezing air pumping out of the vents.
I tug at the collar of my hoodie as tears prick at my eyes. It’s so damn stuffy in here. I hate it.
My phone rings. Rolling onto my hip, I stretch out and reach off the bed, swiping the device off one of the boxes I have yet to unpack. Beth’s name flashes across the screen.
I tried calling her after I left CJ’s house but it went straight to voicemail. I wanted to tell her what had happened. I wanted to tell someone aside from my mom, who couldn't really understand why I was so upset about moving out of a friend's house.
I didn't want to talk about it with her.
But Beth, she would understand. She’d tell me I did the right thing by leaving when I wasn’t sure. She’d tell me everything was going to be okay when I didn’t know.
“Hey,” I answer, shifting onto my back again. I sigh into the phone. “You’ll never guess where I am right now.”
“Mom and Dad’s.”
Reed’s voice startles me. I clench my stomach. “Uh . . . yeah.” How does he know? “Good guess. Why are you calling me from Beth’s phone? Is something wrong with yours?”
“I wanted you to answer,” he says. “Figured you wouldn’t if I called you from mine.”
“I wouldn’t?”
Reed breathes tensely in my ear. “Do you know why I hated that asshole, Riley?”
That asshole—Richard. I know that’s who he means. There is no other person who fits that description on the planet. Why is Reed bringing him up? God, I'd rather talk about anything else.
“Can we not talk about him?” I ask. “Please? I’m not really in the mood.”
“Yeah, he was a shit worker . . .” Reed starts, ignoring my request.
I roll my eyes.
“I was constantly having to stay on top of him. He fucked up a lot. He was late a lot. He didn’t take orders well, which is a major fucking problem if they’re coming from me. And all of that added up. But the main reason I didn’t like him was because I knew he wasn’t good enough for you. And I’m allowed to do that, Riley. I’m allowed to hate some guy if I know my sister can do better. It’d be fucked up if that didn’t bother me.”
I blink and feel my hand grip tighter to my phone. “Uh . . . okay.” I clear my throat. My eyes narrow. “So, you did hate him because he was with me.”
“Not because he was with you. You’re allowed to date, Riley. Jesus.”
“I mean, because you liked him at first, remember? And then, I don’t know, it just seemed like the second we got together, you switched, Reed. You stopped getting along.”
“I liked him when I first hired him and didn’t know any better,” he explains. “The second that piece of shit tried telling me how to do my job, I realized I was going to have problems. That just happened to coincide with the two of you getting together. But it wasn’t like I started hating on him because of that. It wasn’t the fact that you were dating. I realized the kind of man he was, Riley, and it wasn’t someone good enough for you.”
My breaths start coming out quicker.
“How did you . . . realize it?” I ask, voice quiet.
“I don’t know. Big brother instinct? I just knew. But you seemed happy, so I tried staying out of it.”
My brow furrows. “You talked shit about him all the time in front of me, Reed,” I argue, gaining volume. “How was that staying out of it?”
“Hey, I did my best. I could’ve talked shit about him to him in front of you. But I didn’t.”
“No, you rarely said anything to him. That made get-togethers fun.” I sigh and shake my head, bending my knees up and digging my toes into the mattress.
God, why am I arguing in Richard’s defense? I don’t care about him. I hate him. What is wrong with me?
I miss CJ.
“Look,” Reed begins. “I didn’t like the guy. And I didn’t like him for a bunch of reasons, but one of those reasons wasn’t just because you were dating him, Riley. If he were a decent guy, I wouldn’t have cared. He wasn’t.”
“You wouldn’t have cared? You said you weren’t going to be shy about hating the next person I date, Reed. So it wouldn’t matter if he was a decent guy or not. You’d automatically hate him. The guy wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“I said I wouldn’t be shy about hating the next worthless piece of shit you date,” he corrects me. “He’d stand a chance, as long as he didn’t fall into that category. Decent guy’s typically don’t.”
“Oh,” I breathe, wiping my sleeve across my wet lashes.
“CJ is a decent guy, Riley.”
My hand falls heavy to the mattress. My eyes shift around my room as if Reed just spoke to me standing inside it. “Uh . . . okay. Why would you say that?”
“He’s a decent guy,” Reed repeats, saying it a little slower this time.
I feel my nose start tingling. I know he is, I think. He's the best. Amazing. Better than you, even. Or at least equal.
But why . . .
“Yeah, I might’ve gotten on him a little after finding out about you two `cause he’s a friend of mine, the same way Ben got on Luke about dating Tessa, but that shit is allowed. And it just means I got a higher expectation of him `cause I know the guy personally. CJ would’ve understood that.”
I hear the doorbell ring downstairs and the faint sound of my mother greeting someone, but their voices are muffled. Everything is muffled under the noise of my pounding heart and heavy breathing and the words screaming inside my head.
Reed knows. He knows about me and CJ. He knows I lied.
“You should’ve told me,” Reed continues on. His voice is lower. Stern. “What if you and Beth were friends before I met her and we kept that shit from you? How would you feel?”
I swallow thickly, sitting up and swinging my legs over the side of the bed so I’m facing the window. “Shitty, I guess,” I murmur. I tuck pieces of hair back into my hood and blink at the carpet.