Lexi Cocker - Faleena Hopkins Page 0,17
happily clusters over coffee and donuts — one of my very favorite things about Sundays. Today, it’s so pretty out — warm sun, occasional breeze, familiar faces, most of them smiling, others gathered in gossip they should keep to themselves, but oh well.
I’m happy to be here.
Holding a chocolate Old-Fashioned with one bite missing, my sister whispers, “Did you see my face when you slid in next to us?”
With a delicious, greasy Apple Fritter hovering near my lips, I sigh, “You had to pick the second pew,” and chomp.
Zoe reminds me, “I like to sit up close,” nibbling her first-of-five donut holes, the others in a little recyclable bag, “Just not too close.”
“Felt much too close, Zo.”
“Under these circumstances, sure, but how did I know you were going to show up wearing—” she stops herself from outing me aloud. “—such a cute outfit.”
I laugh, “Nice save,” rolling my eyes. “I didn’t have time to change.”
Sam picks at her donut, “So what happened? Did you um, have fun?”
My smile turns to a frown. “Mmhmm, we did.”
“Are you going to see him again?”
“I don’t know. Now that I think about it, he didn’t take my number. Not that there was time in the race to get here.”
“Did you take…what am I saying? I know you would never ask for his.”
I point at her. “Bingo.”
We never call guys first.
They’re hunters.
It’s like delivering the kill on their doorstep and saying, Look what I did! I’ve taken the fun out of it for you!
Samantha bites big, and Zoe digs for donut hole number two.
Since they’re busy and my mind is filled with images I want to share but can’t here, I offer, “He was surprisingly cool.” They nod, wanting more. “Could’ve been a complete disaster.” More nods. “But it was…” Words fail me as our time in his shower replays, bathing each other, pure intimacy like that unusual on a one-night stand. “Unexpected.”
“Brad left after you did,” offers Sam, “Alone.”
My eyebrows fly. “Really? His choice?”
“Hers.”
I mutter, “Oh,” disappointed, adding a sincere, “Good for her.”
“You should’ve seen Nathan,” Zoe smiles, “when Brad took her arm to leave.”
Unable to believe Brad could ever get rough with a woman, I ask, “What do you mean? Brad grabbed her?”
“No, nothing like that! Just a normal…” she demonstrates, and then takes the role of the girl, yanking her arm back in a huff, next adopting Nathan’s deep voice. “She’s seen more than enough of you, Brad.”
Samantha laughs, “It was so great! Wyatt showed up right after and you know he wished he’d been there to help.”
I sigh, “Awesome.”
“She had no idea about you, Lexi.”
“I could tell that from her face.”
Staring at mine, Sammy says a leading, “He’s a jerk, you know that, right?”
Shaking it off I smile, “I know. I’m over it!”
“You should be.”
“I am!”
“You don’t look it.”
I snap, “It’s hard to shed years in a night.”
“Sorry…” My baby sister blinks at me. Sam’s been through all the ups and downs of my undefinable relationship with that man ever since we seduced each other during my short college stint. She’s covered my ass countless times and only recently has become less patient.
I tilt my head, voice quieter. “No, I’m sorry.”
Sam smiles at me as Zoe asks, “What was his name?”
“Brad,” I frown, misunderstanding at first. “Oh! Gage. His name was Gage.”
They parrot, “Gage?” with excited faces, making me grin.
“Cool name, right?” More nodding and donut eating, Zoe on number three.
“—Lexi Cocker?!” shouts a woman whose voice sounds familiar but not one I’ve heard recently.
We three turn to see who’s walking up, and freeze upon sight of the expertly coiffed, plastic-enhanced owner of Cora Williamson Realty.
We know her well from her years of friendship with Aunt Rachel and Uncle Jaxson, but that was before everyone found out what she did to our cousin, Emma.
Cora got ousted.
Big time.
I greet her with a, “Ms. Williamson?” more question than welcome.
“Your hair!”
“Oh uh…”
She touches my wild curls, and if we weren’t outside our church and I didn’t have better manners, I’d probably punch her. “Haven’t seen your hair like this since before you hit puberty.”
Sam and I lock eyes.
Our parents taught us to be respectful even when removing ourselves from unwanted manicured clutches like the ones poking around my untamed ‘do.
But it’s awfully hard for me.
And I usually don’t succeed.
Knowing me well, Samantha answers as if she’s me, “Thank you, Ms. Williamson. Were you at church today?”
Cora sees my scrunched lips, and turns to my sister. “Yes, I’ve just begun to attend.”
I mutter, “Bout time.”
Cora