next on her way, where I can’t fathom why anyone would ever wish to fall victim to emotions they can’t control.
Simply stated, the girl is a mess, and it doesn’t help that country is her music genre of choice. In my opinion, that was her downfall. I mean, can anyone honestly listen to a single country song without daydreaming or crying or having a literal mental breakdown? If they say yes, I’d call them a liar. Monti has that shit on repeat.
We do share a desire for excitement. The difference is I can rein mine in, she can’t. Hers is driven by love and romance and thinking about such things makes me want to vomit.
When my mom crushed her spirit without batting a lash, we all silently suspected the ancient saying would ring true when it came to my whimsical sister.
There’s no such thing as a sure thing.
She proved their safety measures right, and so the backup plan was in full effect—I was on the next plane home.
Growing up, my parents were unlike any of the others I remember. While they could enjoy a night or weekend out like Cali and Jules did, they weren’t concerned with social order or country clubs and would rather be working than all else, including hanging out with me or my sister.
They would preach the importance of education, of independent thinking and demanded we stand up for ourselves where others were concerned. Nobody was to take us for weak, and what made us even stronger was our understanding of the world we lived in, one where our parents knew best.
And they do.
My mother came from the south side with nothing and now owns a forty-four-story skyscraper.
The day of my flight back to California, my mom drove me to the airport herself and left me with what she called her ‘wistful notion.’ I was instructed to ‘sow my wild oats’ as my old-school mother put it—gross, coming from her.
She knows I’m not a virgin, that I did my thing and had some fun throughout high school in Naples. She’s the one who took me to get the Depo-Provera shot after all, but the only reason I have the freedom I do is because I am my mother’s daughter and she’s aware of that fact.
I have never had a boyfriend and I have no desire for one.
I never date as dating goes, but I’ll hang out and go along for the ride. I go to dances and events, never alone, but that’s where it ends.
Three to four ‘hang outs’ was all I allowed.
The first is an ice breaker, a fun and flirty night where you size up your companion. The second, when things go well, makes the curiosity rise. The third, sexual tension builds, and the fourth, you either give in to it or go home.
Either way, after that, you only see them again in groups, because that moment you go for the fifth, they want a quiet night in, with a movie to make things more personal.
That’s not my vibe.
My mom always says you reap what you sow and it’s true.
My family knows firsthand what happens when emotions take control, which is why I take after my mom and cut them from the equation.
It’s the exact reason my parents’ plan is perfect for me.
To hide the heart is to salvage the soul.
I learned that from my real father, and he didn’t even have to be here to teach it to me.
“You’re awfully quiet, Trouble.”
“As are you three.” I look to Beretta in the passenger seat. “Don’t pretend you want me to annoy you by asking where we’re going, all so you can say ‘you’ll see’ or ‘wouldn’t you like to know’ or something else along those lines.”
His grin is widely idiotic. “I like you.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “You constantly being in my face sort of hinted to that.”
An easy laugh escapes him, and he and Arsen share a small smile.
Ransom looks my way, so I give him my attention.
He holds my gaze steady for a long moment before he holds a vape pen between us. I make no move to accept, so he pulls it to his lips and looks away.
I have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into by leaving school with them today, but it’s definitely not the smartest thing I’ve ever done. I’ve already done it though, so there’s no point in dwelling on it.