Conor Thames 2 - R.J. Lewis Page 0,16

on his shoulder the name of said dead bird?”

“Yes, I did. Well, anyway, he was sweet. They talked a lot and for the first time in so long, Penny didn’t throw a tantrum on the way to school.”

“Huh.” Jem took a moment to absorb my words, looking half-impressed, half-disturbed. “I’m trying to figure out the meaning of your story right now, Charlotte, but I’m kinda struggling.”

“We’ve had a lot of meaningful encounters riding the bus. You can’t pretend to know the people in town by brushing past them without some sort of exchange.”

“I own a bar, remember?”

“Then you know what I’m talking about.”

He looked unconvinced. “You’ve worked there. You know the people that come and go. They’re all the same after a while, Charlotte. People are all the same, wherever you go. I don’t find it exciting, and I don’t think Penny should be talking to old men with dead birds on their shoulders. I’m kinda curious how he got it to stick on his shoulder, by the way, and did the bird smell?”

I laughed lightly. “It was one time. I was using it as an example.”

“Keep that example close to your chest. Imagine what Conor would say if he knew.”

My smile faded, and silence filled the car. I felt Jem watch me carefully, gauging my response.

“We shouldn’t forget him,” he added softly.

“Not trying to,” I whispered in return, feeling my heart climb up my throat.

Still watching me intently, he asked, “Are you waiting for him, Charlotte?”

“Yes.”

“Even if he wants you to move on?”

I nodded again. “Yes.”

He frowned. “Then you might as well be locked in there with him.”

Yeah, I might as well have been.

For a few minutes we rode in silence, but I felt his gaze on me, felt what I knew was curiosity growing.

“Out with it,” I demanded when I came to another hard stop.

He didn’t make fun of it. His eyes narrowed instead as he cleared his throat and awkwardly said, “I’m hearing stories around town, sweetheart.”

I didn’t bother to keep driving. I turned to him, foot still on the brake. My brows shot up, expectantly. “Okay, and?”

“Stories of you and Locke.”

My belly flip-flopped with nerves. I continued waiting, hiding the way my bones stiffened. “What sort of stories?”

“People keep seeing you around with him.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to play it off. “I work part-time for him, Jem, and it’ll go full-time once I’m done school. It’s inevitable people will be seeing me around him.”

“They say they’re seeing you and him at…really odd hours.”

“What’s an odd hour?” Why was I stoking the fire asking?

“Dead of the night kind of hour.”

I shrugged. “He’s a busy guy, Jem. Sometimes he can only see me at those hours.”

Jem’s gaze softened as he studied me. “You can tell me anything, you know.”

I studied my nails. “What does that mean?”

“I mean…if he is making you do things…” His words trailed off.

Now I looked around us, pretending to be more concerned about the non-existent drivers in the empty parking lot. I wasn’t doing a good job pretending things were totally normal between Locke and me, but then I realized I didn’t have to be.

“Charlotte,” he pressed, gravely, “sweetheart, please, Locke is a dangerous guy. I need to hear you’re okay.”

“I’m alright,” I assured him.

“I can sever whatever he wants from you.”

“What?”

His eyes hardened, and he looked scary. “I can pay him a visit.”

“There are things about Locke that are…difficult to swallow, but…I choose to be there.” Then I added harshly, “I’m not fucking the guy if that’s what you’re trying to get at.”

Jem’s expression remained vacant, confirming he had thought just that.

Oh, my God.

“I’m waiting for Conor,” I pressed, feeling a little insulted he would think that.

“Long time to wait for someone,” he reiterated. “Really long time.”

“So?”

“So, things change. We’re human. It’s okay to feel human, Charlotte. To… want things again.”

I swallowed the hard lump in my throat away, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken.

“This is kinda pushing the limits of our friendship, Jem,” I mumbled, but really, I was fighting the tears in my eyes. I sniffed and looked at the street harder.

“Not trying to do that, sweetheart,” he apologized.

“I’m not fucking Locke,” I bit out again, feeling my face flush now. “God, but yeah, I get what you’re saying, and yeah, okay, I have needs and sometimes there’s a horrible fucking ache in places, if you catch my drift, but…I’m not tempted to go out there and spread my legs just so someone can dip their dick in

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