pineapple on my pizza,” I warn them both. “With mushrooms.”
Both men groan.
I shrug unapologetically and turn around. James hops over the back of the couch and sits on the other side of me. Kent keeps sneaking glances at him as he orders the pizza, as if he can’t believe what James is doing. All three of us watch television in silence. At one point Kent enables the captions for James. I’m not a fan of football. The tight pants maybe, but that only gets me so far. My mind starts drifting toward my stuff on Camden’s lawn. If something happens to it I won’t have the money to replace it.
I sigh out loud and Kent looks at me. Blushing, I sink lower in my seat and cross my arms over my chest.
“Let me guess?” he says, putting his hand on my thigh and rubbing me softly. “I’m turning you on?”
James makes a sound in the back of his throat and knocks Kent’s hand away, spelling out a word quickly.
Kent guffaws.
I don’t understand what James said, but whatever it was, I thank him. Men like Kent don’t touch my thighs. We on principal ignore each other. I want long term and Kent wants right now. Plus there’s that pesky little secret I protect. It buzzes in the back of my brain like a hornet sometimes. Most times I ignore it. The fact that I’m even thinking about it now thanks to Kent bothers me.
I clear my throat and glare at him. “Turning me off is more like it.”
Kent nods. “It’s the couch thing, right?” He leans forward, all back muscles and mussed hair, to look at James. “She thinks my couch-capades are disgusting.”
“Me too,” James says aloud. His delivery is hesitant. I can sense his unease.
I snicker and slide closer to James, letting him know he doesn’t have to be shy around me “We’re going to get along well, James.”
Kent looks like he’s going to say something, no doubt eventful, when the doorbell rings. He wiggles his fingers at James, who takes some cash out of his pocket, and hands it off.
When he leaves I feel eyes on me. I glance shyly at James and blush when he does. James is more my type, if I was going to consider myself having one. He’s not a pig. Pigs wear no shirt, move through the apartment like sexy, carnal beasts, and have eyes so black they suck me in. I have to remind myself that despite his apparent sweetness James is still a man. Men are off limits. They remind me of everything I fear and run from.
But most of all they remind me of my parents, two people I refuse to replicate.
For one brief moment I allow myself to remember the pain of losing them and the hardship of having them at the same time. Painful memories of gross instability bombard me. My father’s abuse toward my mother, his neglect and rage, and my mother’s lack of a backbone. My heart begins to burn and my eyes follow suit. I’d been away from them for years, but my parents still somehow find a way to remind me of everything I fear.
James nudges me. You’re not alone. I smile in reassurance, taking my pain and burying it deep inside. That pain is what’s gotten me this far. Just keep going, I chant in my head. That’s all you can do.
He holds his hands out in an odd gesture, as if he’s asking me for something.
“What’s wrong?” Kent translates, setting down two pizza boxes along with three napkins and three beers. “Why is he asking you that?”
“Nothing,” I assure James, patting his knee.
He looks unconvinced, but accepts my lie. I think he understands that not everything you feel needs to be spoken of. Some things are better left inside. To rot.
“You know what I think we should do?” Kent asks as he pushes the pizza toward James. He takes a large bite and looks at me. “Your turn.”
I roll my eyes. “What do you think we should do, Kent?”
“Have a welcoming party for you. What’s your favorite drink? I’ll tell everyone to bring it.” He raises his eyebrows at me, daring me to say no. As if that isn’t bad enough, he glances casually at the door.
Right. I’m his wingman. “Whiskey,” I lie. “I love whiskey.” Everyone orders whiskey at Oblivion. “And a party sounds great.”
I don’t drink. I don’t party. And I most certainly wouldn’t do them at the same time. But