Page 36 of Call You Mine
Feelings just complicate things.
But for some reason, I couldn’t tell them that.
So, I just avoided the question. Rumi and Emerson know I’ve been guarded since my last relationship, the one I broke myself out of just before I met Rumi almost two years ago. And I think that’s why they haven’t pushed too much when it comes to Anderson.
Looking up, I find him watching me. Feeling a little exposed, I try to continue our conversation. “They’ll be pissed if we tell them we’ve been dating this whole time in secret, but I don’t know what other explanation there is. It’ll take a little convincing, but it could work.” I blow a breath through my lips, trying to release some of the tension in my neck. “Luckily, Jack won’t care, so that’s one less person we have to convince.”
Anderson looks uneasy all of a sudden. “About that,” he starts, but it takes him a moment to continue.
I raise a brow. “You can’t say that and then go silent.”
“I’m not.
“You are,” I fire back.
“You’re right. It’s just—” he rolls his lips together.
“Spit it out.”
He sighs. “Jack knows we haven’t been ‘together’.”
“How the hell does Jack know?”
“I told him.”
I huff out a breath. “Of all people, you opened up toJack? The man who communicates in grunts and nods and only shows interest or emotion if it directly involves Rumi, Evee, or Emerson? You really looked at that caveman and thought, ‘hmm, yeah, that’s the man I should bare my soul to’?”
Anderson lifts his hands up in surrender. “Okay, when you put it that way, I can understand how silly it sounds.” He runs his hand through his hair again, messing up the strands even more before they fall against his forehead. “But I spend a lot of time with him, especially since we’re on the same shift rotation at the station.”
“Then you’ll have plenty of time to tell him not to tell hisgirlfriendor hissister,” I grit through my teeth.
Anderson’s eyes soften, and it’s like trying to stay mad at a puppy who peed on the floor because they didn’t know any better. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell them the truth?”
Some of my frustration fades, but I still don’t hesitate. “Positive.”
Anderson sighs, muttering, “I’ll think of something to tell him.”
“Good.”
The silence that follows feels a little awkward, but it doesn't last long. “What about when we all go to Vegas next month?” Anderson asks.
Shit.
I forgot about the trip we all have planned.
A friend of Emerson’s plays in a band that’s opening for Cross My Heart’s final tour—a band that started here in Milwaukee, but has blown up internationally over the lastfew years—and he invited Emerson and all of us to the first show of the tour.
The lead singer and drummer announced their upcoming retirement, so they can spend more time with their families, meaning this “goodbye tour” is huge—we only have tickets because of Emerson’s connection, and I totally forgot I offered to find flights and a hotel this weekend for all of us
My head falls into my hands.
With everything that’s happened with Georgie and my mom, the trip totally slipped my mind.
I’ll have to find time to do it sometime this week.
“You’re right.” But even as the words leave my mouth, my stomach knots.
The idea of more people knowing the truth—that everything between me and Anderson is staged—makes my anxiety spike.
