Can’t Escape Love by Alyssa Cole Page 0,13
“the band” . . . that implied a certain closeness, familiarity. Had he seen her as integral to his nights, like she’d seen him?
No. She was reading too much into things. But he’d wanted to talk on the phone and now he wanted to video chat. And his voice was great and all, but him talking to her again . . . them speaking to each other? She hadn’t been prepared for how she would react to it. She hadn’t realized the depth of their existing connection because she’d downplayed it for so long. And she hadn’t expected how much she could possibly look forward to seeing someone’s face.
As she prepared for bed, and their video chat, her text alert chimed. She nearly swept everything off her low counter when swooping to reach for the phone, but it wasn’t Gus. It was her dad.
Dad: Hey, honey. Me and your mother were talking about how much we miss you at work and we just want you to know that we will be here no matter what happens with this venture. If the site doesn’t work out, we can support you. We’re so proud of you.
Reggie sighed. She felt ungrateful, but it was fucked how her parents had just spent months complaining about Portia taking an apprenticeship in Scotland—had spent years pointing out Portia’s mistakes—but were always quick to remind Reggie they’d be there no matter what. Before she’d gotten sick, they’d praised her, but with the underlying expectation that they thought she could always work a little bit harder. Since then . . .
They didn’t understand that their constant reassurance was just so damn condescending. She’d been their best analyst, but they’d been so overly effusive about her work that she’d felt like a kindergartener. She’d just left the proverbial nest, but they were already making sure she knew any fall would have a soft landing; meanwhile, they’d always chastised Portia for the various desperate flight patterns she undertook while trying to please them.
Reggie loved her parents, but she would never understand how or why they behaved as they did. Sending Portia to comportment lessons and debutant balls, telling her she needed a good husband, while focusing on Reggie’s good grades and always making sure everyone knew who the smart twin was, even if they never said it out loud.
Reggie realized her teeth were clenched hard, and took a deep breath, and focused on loosening her muscles.
Reggie: Thanks! You guys don’t have to worry about me, I’ve planned for possible failure and won’t need any assistance. Appreciate it, though! Good night!
She glanced at her father’s response.
Dad: That’s our girl. Always has a plan in place!
Reggie knew what was left unsaid. Unlike your sister.
Those unspoken words hurt. Sometimes she wondered if stuff like that was why Portia had grown so distant. Messed up as it was, that was preferential to her greater fear.
Reggie finished her preparations for bed with frayed nerves, the anticipation she felt slightly tarnished by the way every interaction in her family had to somehow be a competition between her and her sister, which meant they both always lost.
She climbed into bed, reminding herself that she couldn’t control other people’s behaviors and she shouldn’t try, as her therapist had been pounding into her stubborn brain for years. She had more pressing concerns in that moment, like figuring out why she’d finally opened the nine-step skin-care set that Portia had given her, so that her skin was dewy and glowing and her lips were scrubbed smooth and kissable. Or why she’d put on her TARDIS blue camisole top, with its dipping neckline, and matching pajama bottoms when she usually slept in an oversize Tanuki, My Love T-shirt.
She’d drawn the line at her hair, though, slipping on her yellow silk bonnet before getting under the covers and repositioning the snakelike device that wrapped around one of the posts of her bed and held her tablet out in front of her.
It was go time.
Reggie tapped the link to the video conference on the screen, where they would watch the episodes—and each other—in a private virtual viewing session not so different from how they’d originally met.
Gus N. has entered the meeting popped up on her screen and her stomach flipped.
She didn’t care what Gus thought of her. This wasn’t a date, it was a barter. But . . .
Her heart began to beat a little bit faster. This felt like a date. And first dates with people she hadn’t met in person before