"Friday at eight," I told him and then left the shop in a hurry.
I opened the door to my fridge and paused, listening to the sounds of downtown Eugene leak in through the cracked windows. I have my own place. God. It had felt like this day would never come. I shoved the six-pack of beer onto the glass shelf and shut the door, turning around and leaning against the stainless steel surface as I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Somehow I could sense that I was standing at a crossroads and that in front of me, a hundred doors sat waiting for me to pick a path – if only I wasn't blind enough to not notice what was standing in my way.
"Are you being contemplative again?" Addi asked me, stumbling into the kitchen with a different heel on each foot. She paused and held her arms out to either side, looking sexy and confident in a white cotton T-shirt dress with a graphic print splashed across the front. "Don't answer that. I know you were, so don't lie to me. Now, stop being so goddamn intellectual and be shallow with me for five seconds. Gray suede bootie or classic black pump?"
"I, uh," I began, but Addison held out her hands, palms forward. Her nails were splashed with color, flickering like little orange fireflies as she gestured at me.
"No, no, no. You're right. You're so right. Just because I'm going to dinner with Patrick's parents doesn't mean I have to dress like a frump." Addi kicked off her black pump while I chuckled and watched her limp back to her bedroom. "It's not like I haven't met them before, you know?" She reappeared a moment later and paused, her phone in her hand and a frown on her face. It took me a second to realize that she meant tonight. She was going out tonight.
"Wait," I said, fear gripping my throat like a noose, choking the air out of me. Last thing I wanted was to end up here by myself with Flor. Needless to say, we didn't spend a lot of alone time together. I mean, moving day had been the exception, not the rule. I blinked to clear my irrational fear of my stepbrother and took a breath. "You didn't tell me you were going out tonight." The words tumbled out as an accusation and I watched as Addi raised an eyebrow at me.
"It was last minute. Patrick's actually thinking of moving here, Abi. If he does, that could change my life. You know how I feel about long distance relationships, even one as strong as ours. I thought I might lose him when I moved here." She smiled at me, and I smiled back. I knew why she'd moved here: for me. It's not often that you find friends who'll choose you over their boyfriends or girlfriends. As far as I knew, it was virtually unheard of. But Addison and I had grown up together, quite literally. My dad used to take me to 'Mommy and Me' playdates hosted by Addi's mom. The other moms thought he was a weirdo, but Addison's mom saw him for what he really was: a man whose wife had given birth and bailed. He was just trying to take care of me the way he thought she should've, be both a father and a mother. I think that was another reason Addison had moved all this way for me; I had this aura about me that drew out the maternal instincts in people, like I was this motherless vacuum that needed to be filled with nurturing and caring. I hated to admit it, but that was probably true in a lot of ways. I mean, it wasn't that I couldn't take care of myself, but rather that I was almost too good at it. Fun was usually only in my vocabulary when it was forced on me.
"Thank you, Addi," I said, because I knew I needed to, because I wanted to, because I secretly thought she'd be a hell of a lot happier soaking up the sun in La Jolla. She'd originally wanted me to join her, to be a UC San Diego Triton, but I couldn't pry myself away from my hometown – or rather, from someone who lived in my hometown.
Addi got tears in her eyes – not unusual because really, she cried a whole hell of a lot – and then reached out her arms for a hug. I moved over to her and let her wrap me up, hoping she wouldn't really cry and mess up her makeup. It was fabulous, by the way, a gold and brown blend of perfection that curved up towards her brow and gave her a sharp, sexy look that I envied.
"His parents want to scope out the city. They're typical Californians, you know. Oregon is so raffish and uncultured, it's practically all wilderness up there! If I take them out tonight, show them a good time, maybe they'll change their minds? I mean, they flew up here last minute because of me." Or rather, because of me, I thought, but decided not to say anything aloud.
"There's plenty of kale salad and green juice to go around. I don't think you'll have a problem." I pulled away from my best friend and tried not to fidget. Normally, I wouldn't care if she went out. She didn't have to tell me every little thing she did, but … then again, she didn't know Flor was coming over. For some reason, I suddenly didn't want to tell her.
"Abigail Ingram Sharp," she said, putting on her best maternal voice. Admittedly, it was kind of scary. I was already nervous for those future three kids she talked about having. "What's wrong? Come on, spill it." I turned back towards the kitchen, grabbed a rag from a drawer and took the bottle of Windex in my other hand. Sometimes when I was nervous, I cleaned. It had worked for me before. If I scrubbed the crap out of some tile countertops, things would work out okay. Right?
"Nothing's wrong," I lied, spraying the already clean surface in front of me and wiping it rhythmically with the rag. A knock at the door startled me enough that I dropped the Windex on the floor. The top came flying off and blue liquid went everywhere. One quick glance at the clock told me it was only six – way too early for Florian to be here. Both Addison and I paused as keys sounded in the lock and a few seconds later, my stepbrother was waltzing in dressed in a tight red T-shirt, dark jeans and boots. His hair was in that sexy stage between wet and dry, tousled up and left to fend for itself. I swallowed hard against the image.
"Where'd you get a key?" I demanded, standing in a puddle of Windex while Addison looked from me to Flor and back again. She'd already figured it out, I knew. Damn it. We'd had plenty of talks about my stepbrother, most of them consisting of her yelling at me for being so goddamn obsessive. Let it go or try it out, Abigail. You only have two choices. Stop agonizing over the decision and just make one. "Because I know I didn't give you one." I glanced back at Addi, her lips parted slightly, her eyes taking in the scene with interest.
"Don't look at me."
"I stole it off your key ring, you dope," Flor said, tossing the mass of metal in his hand on the counter. He paused for a moment to glance down at the Windex and then looked up at me with a shake of his head. "What'd you do now? What the hell is this shit?" I pursed my lips and threw the rag in the sink, grabbing a roll of paper towels and bending down to clean up the mess. Flor followed after me and reached out to take the roll from me, brushing his fingers against mine. My breath caught and even through the sharp smell of Windex, I could practically taste his scent, that same citrusy shampoo he'd been using for years. A warm flush crept up from below and colored my cheeks with heat.
I drew back my hand and pretended not to notice.
"Why are you so dressed up, Addi?" he asked without bothering to look over his shoulder. Addison was staring at me strangely and I just knew she was about thirty seconds away from calling off her date with Patrick and his parents.
I stood up suddenly and gave her a look.
"What time are you supposed to meet them?" I asked as she continued to stare at me. Her caramel-brown eyes narrowed and her lips, slathered in bright red, twisted to the side in a suspicious gesture. I forced myself to smile because Flor was looking up at me, his dark hair falling over his brow, his eyes bright and intelligent and way, way, way too intuitive. "Patrick and his parents, I mean," I added before he could ask.
Flor finished wiping up the Windex and stood, turning to glance at Addi.
"You bailing on us or something?" he asked and although his voice was light, I felt something there, beneath his words, trapping us both. Shit. I closed my eyes and did what I always did: I thought of our parents. Well, my dad and his mom. I thought of them, how in love they were, how long they'd been together and I made myself realize – for probably the millionth time – that there was no way in hell this taboo little crush I was nursing was going to pan out.