Page 5 of Ache
“I go to the dentist.” I chew.
“Nice to know you leave the house for more than just work,” she digs.
I stick my tongue out at her. “Just because I’m not having an affair with a junior partner doesn’t mean I don’t have a life.”
“Do you have a life?” Lara counters.
I grimace. Why does she have to hassle me?
“Well?” she pushes. I want to kick her.
“No,” I gripe. But that’s my choice.
I retreat into myself, going back to concentrating heavily on my computer screen. For a half second, while Lara and I were joking, I felt normal. Felt light, but it always creeps back — the past, my hindrances, my impairments. Loneliness is like a crutch. A handicap I’m cursed to live with.
“It doesn’t have to be that way, Ever. You don’t have to have an illicit affair to have a life. You just need to leave your apartment.” Her tone is soft. Consoling almost.
“I leave my apartment, Lara.” I agitatedly grab for another piece of licorice.
“For more than work.” Her chair squeaks as she turns her body in my direction. She’s wearing a light-pink pantsuit that compliments her complexion perfectly. Lara is classically beautiful, with long, blonde hair, big, blue eyes, and sharp facial features. It’s like working alongside career woman Barbie sometimes. I, on the other hand, have mossy-green eyes, freckles splattered across my nose, and auburn hair I dye dark brown. We’re starkly different in looks but have the exact same taste in almost everything else. It’s part of the reason we get along so well. Most of the time.
“Are you going to the company party tonight?” She’s trying to make a point by asking that loaded question.
“No.” I don’t look at her.
“Why not?”
“Because.” It’s the lamest excuse on the planet, and she knows it.
“Because,” she spits. “Because, because, because. Can you at least come up with something better than that?”
“Nope.” I’m belligerent.
Lara sighs loudly, purposely voicing her annoyance. I don’t know what she wants from me. I’m fucking damaged, plain and simple. A defective product of my destructive past.
“You’re going,” she informs me.
“Says who?” I swing my face in her direction.
“Says me. I say. You are going. I’m not going to let you waste away in your apartment tonight, having a one-sided conversation with your cat.”
“I love Denali,” I moan.
“I’m sure you do, but you also need human interaction. You need to indulge in gourmet food, sip expensive champagne, and appreciate a spectacular view of Manhattan,” Lara speaks enthusiastically. She is clearly looking forward to tonight.
“I have nothing to wear.” I toss out another lame-ass excuse.
“Bullshit,” she snorts. “I know what’s in your closet. I know how much money you spend on clothes that never see the light of day. It’s like a damn vintage museum in your closet.”
Fuck, this bitch knows me too damn well. I do have a weakness for name brands.
“Lara—”
“Don’t, Everly.” She holds up her hand, silencing me. “I’m not taking no for an answer. You’re going, end of story. I will rip you out of your apartment if I have to.”
“That sounds unpleasant.”
“It will be, if it comes to that.” For Christ’s sake. I inwardly bristle. “I refuse to let you become a reclusive old cat lady.”
