Before & After - Nazarea Andrews Page 0,48
forever.
***
Lindsay is home when I get in from the shop, and she gives me that knowing smirk she does so well that annoys the fuck out of me. I like the girl—I really do, and not just because she’s Peyton’s best friend and Scott’s girlfriend; I like her for her own merits—but she’s got a cocky attitude about shit, especially when she thinks I’m wrong about something.
Which is often.
I grit my teeth. “Is she here?”
“Shower. You sure you’re ready for this, Rike? Her parents are no joke.”
I ignore that. Lindsay is the only one who has a normal family. People who support and love without conditions. People who stuck around.
Sometimes I wonder if she’s with us just out of curiosity, and then I remind myself that thinking that is fucking shitty, and that she really cares about Scott.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
The bathroom door is closed, and I eye it briefly. The bed is still unmade, and I wonder if we’ll get back to where we were last night.
We will. This is a hiccup, but we’ve had those before. We’ll be fine, because we have to be fine.
The shower turns off, and I hear music blaring for a moment before she cuts it off and emerges, wrapped in a towel and steam and water droplets still clinging to her shoulders.
She eyes me briefly, and ruffles her wet hair. “You need to change.”
“Why?” I ask, keeping my tone even.
“Because we’re meeting my parents,” she says. “Dinner at Ruth’s Chris.”
I cross my arms, and study her coldly. “Is there a dress code for this shit?”
“Something you didn’t just pull a shift in,” she says, still buried in her closet, and I huff. It finally sinks in that I’m pissed, because she emerges from her closet and frowns at me. “What the hell is wrong now?”
“You suddenly want me to meet your parents.”
“I never didn’t want you to meet them, asshole. I didn’t want you to have to deal with their shit. But it’s a big deal to you, and I get it. So we’ll go.”
She tosses a dress on the bed and glares at me. “I wasn’t going to go. I didn’t keep it from you because I was planning to see them without you. I kept it from you because it doesn’t matter. Like not telling you I put gas in the truck and bought a candy bar on the way home. So fucking irrelevant.”
I stare at her and it’s hard as fuck to swallow my irritation and all the protests. I shake my head and strip out of the grungy shirt I’m wearing, stalking into the bathroom and turning on the shower.
We don’t fight. Maybe that’s why I’m struggling with this so hard. Scott and Lindsay fight constantly—it’s their form of foreplay. But we don’t. We never have. Being with Peyton is easy. Even when one of us is being a moody artist, it’s easy.
When I step out of the shower, she’s in the bathroom, leaning into the mirror as she does her makeup. She’s barely dressed, only a strapless white bra with black lace details and a matching thong. Her gaze meets mine in the mirror, and I see apology flickering there before she refocuses.
We’re going to do it that way then.
I slip past her silently and we’re both quiet as we dress.
***
We take the truck, and Peyton sits on her side of the cab in tense silence. She looks fucking amazing, in a tiny dark red shirt with a skull on it and a tight little leather skirt. The neckline wraps around her neck, leaving her shoulders bare, and the skirt ends mid-thigh, exposing a mouthwatering length of leg. I’m itching to run my hand up the smooth skin, under that flirty skirt to the tiny panties I know she’s wearing.
We didn’t fool around when getting ready. We barely spoke.
“I didn’t have a family, Peyton,” I say abruptly. “I didn’t do family shit, and I don’t have family for you to meet. The only family I have is Scott, and I’ve never tried to keep him from you.”
“Because Scott is someone you want to have in your life. Because Scott isn’t an asshat.” I arch an eyebrow and she snorts. “Ok, but he’s your asshat.”
“And these are yours,” I say softly.
She shakes her head. “You and Scott and Linds are my family. Not them. But. You’ll see.”
I reach for her hand and squeeze it gently in my own. “I just want to know where you come from, Fish.”
She make a