The Easy Part of Impossible - Sarah Tomp Page 0,69

the other day. They’re happy. But impatient for you to pick your starting date.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “How many other times have you come to work out?”

“None. I’m not.”

“Right.” He wasn’t listening. Or not comprehending. Definitely not believing.

“I didn’t come to work out. That’s not why I’m here.”

“Is that right? You came for the view?”

As he stepped toward her, she kept her eyes on his hands.

“No, Benny. Please. Don’t.” She deserved to punished, but she couldn’t bear for Cotton to see it. “I’m with someone.”

He stared at her, jaw clenched and pulsing, looking confused.

“I’m ‘experiencing.’ Being a teenager. Like you told me to.”

He scanned the gym. His eyes stopped on Cotton’s shirt and tie, then found Cotton. A look of queasy disbelief rolled across his face. “Here? You brought him here?” Benny’s face turned steely and cold. He worked his mouth like he’d tasted something gross.

She bit back the apology, swallowed the urge to tell him they weren’t doing what he thought. Instead, she ignored the heat in her face and the stickiness on her skin.

“We’ll leave.”

“You better get the hell out of here, Romeo,” he yelled in Cotton’s direction. “You’re trespassing on someone else’s property.” Then he leaned in close, his breath hot and stale on her face. “We’re not done.”

He turned and left her standing alone on the foam mat. He went to his office and slammed the door.

Cotton heaved himself up and out of the pit. He rushed to the spot where he’d left his shirt and tie. Without talking, she led him out the door, into the dark of the night.

Thirty-Two

Ria woke up with her mind racing, and her body restless. Her parents’ voices hummed and buzzed through the wall.

She wondered if Benny would tell them about her visit to the gym. He hadn’t been mad. Not at first. It was more like he’d expected her. He’d assumed she’d been there before, and it was dumb luck that he’d finally caught her.

And when she’d begged him not to explode, he’d listened. Sure, Cotton had been there, but also, she’d never said no to Benny before. Maybe that’s all it took. Maybe things could be different if she worked harder to stop him. But, he’d made her the best she could be. What would she have lost by saying no?

She’d surprised him, bringing Cotton to the gym. And poor Cotton looked shell-shocked on the way home. They’d both been quiet, holding tight to their own thoughts.

She had to see him.

The Talleys’ house looked dark. She sent him a text, then sat on the curb at the end of their driveway waiting for his response. She rested her arms on her knees and tucked her head into the crook of her elbow.

“My parents want to know why you’re sitting out here.” She must have dozed off, because his greeting startled her.

“It was too early to knock on your door.” She blinked, still waking up.

He turned and walked away. When he got to the porch he looked back. “Come in. It’s not too early anymore.”

Their home smelled of vanilla and maple, mixed in with the savory scent of sausage. Ria’s mouth watered and her stomach rumbled a ridiculous deep and gnawing, begging sound.

Breakfast at their home was like a dance with too many steps to count. Everyone in the warm yellow kitchen, each of them moving in their own direction, but perfectly aligned, as if choreographed to avoid collisions. Flutie walked out with a piece of toast as they walked in, but she greeted Ria with a smile before she headed upstairs. At the table, Mr. Talley and Bo watched something on a tablet while Jelly announced, “I’m being a self-cannibal. I’m having jelly on my grits.”

The table was covered with more food than Ria’s family served in a month of breakfasts.

“Cotton, feed your guest.” His mother waved her spatula like it was a magic wand.

“No, thank you. I’m fine.”

“But you’re also hungry,” said Cotton.

“Did you hear about the restaurant on the moon?” Mr. Talley asked as they sat down.

“I don’t think so.”

“Out-of-this-world food, no atmosphere.”

“I bet it’s a great place to rock out.”

He looked surprised, then burst out laughing. “I like this girl, Cotton.”

“Me too,” Cotton said, scooping applesauce.

Once they’d finished and rinsed their dishes, with Ria feeling like her thank-you wasn’t nearly sufficient, Cotton led her out to the garage.

As soon as they stepped into the quiet, dim space, he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Your coach was angry last night.”

He was,

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