Page 22 of Inseparable
“Don’t bother,” I whisper back. “It’s not worth it.”
“Are you ever going to tell me what he did?”
“Are you?”
We stare at one another, neither backing down, both trying to work out what the other knows, and it’s creating tension where tension shouldn’t exist. That’s the problem with secrets—they drive a stake right through the heart of relationships, invoking all kinds of imaginary inventions, all manner of protective protestations.
“Maybe the psychic will reveal all,” he whispers, and I know his teasing tone is an attempt to lighten the mood.
“You’re still okay to come with?”
He purses his lips, cocking his head to the side. “You know I’d never let you down. I said I’d go and I’m going.” One of America’s most renowned psychics is holding an event in Minneapolis just after Christmas, and I’ve had tickets for months—I’m a sucker whenever any of these shows roll close to town. Mom indulges my strange hobby, and I’ve lost count of the amount of times she’s taken me to the fortune teller at the annual carnival and how often she’s driven me to these psychic events, but I already told you she was awesome, right?
“Ahem.” A loud throat clearing pulls us out of our whispered conversation. My cheeks flush as I notice every pair of eyes fixated on us. Mr. Carter smiles. “We can leave if you’d like some privacy?” he jokes.
Mom’s face is radiant as her gaze bounces between us, and I know she thinks she’s figured this out. Little does she realize the grumpy-faced guy sitting on her left is the real object of my romantic and sexual obsession. Devin glares at Ayden, and Ayden returns it and then some.
Mrs. Carter nudges her husband in the ribs. “Carl, leave them alone.” She rises in her seat, collecting plates.
Ayden stands up. “Sit down, Mom. You cooked, we’ll clean.” I rise and start stacking the dirty dinner plates, carrying them into the kitchen.
Lucas and the girls help clear the table, and then it’s just Ayden and me in the kitchen. I’m rinsing while he loads the dishwasher.
“Don’t you make a great team,” Devin snarls, stepping into the kitchen with two empty wine glasses.
“Cut this shit out, man.” Ayden sends him a filthy look. “And grow the fuck up.”
Devin opens the refrigerator, almost yanking the door off its hinges. “Me, grow up? That’s fucking rich.”
Ayden folds his arms across his chest. “Did you deliberately set out to alienate your two closest friends or did this fuck-up happen by chance?”
Devin pours white wine from the bottle into the two glasses. “Did you deliberately set out to piss me off?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Ayden shakes his head.
Devin recorks the wine, placing it back in the refrigerator. He turns toward us, jabbing a finger in the air between us. “You two acting all lovey-dovey at the table.”
“We weren’t acting all lovey-dovey,” I protest, leaning my butt against the sink. “We were just talking.”
His lips curl into a sneer. “Sure you were.” He lifts the two glasses. “I’ve always believed you were different than other girls, but maybe I was wrong. When you don’t get what you want from me, you run straight to him and try to rub my nose in it.”
My anger flares up again. How dare he insinuate I’m using Ayden to make him jealous or that I could simply substitute one for the other. How dare he dismiss my feelings for him so flippantly. Before I can utter a word in my defense, my remaining best friend cuts in.
“You are way out of line, dude.” Ayden shakes his head again. “I’m her friend. I’m trying to be yours too, but your head is so far up your ass you can’t see it.”
“Whatever. It’s not like I care.”
And with those awesome parting words he leaves the kitchen to bring the moms their wine.
Ayden sighs in exasperation. “I don’t know what the hell to do with him.”
“That makes two of us.” I look down at the floor, not wanting to verbalize this but needing to at the same time. “I think you were right.”
“I usually am.” I hear the slight smirk in his tone. “But about what this time?”
My hair hangs around my face like drapes as I look up at him. “About our friendship.” I trace the edge of my tattoo. “Nothing is permanent, and everything changes even when you don’t want it to.”
“I want to go to the party,” I proclaim a few hours later. The oldies are in the sitting room still drinking wine and chatting. Ayden’s sisters are in their bedrooms, and Devin and Lucas left after dinner. Ayden and I have been sitting in the den, casually scrolling through the TV channels. We’ve both been in a funk since the kitchen showdown with Devin.
