Page 32 of Bailey Bangs Her Brother's Best Friend
I set the serving spoon down, my appetite evaporating.
Dad doesn’t look up from his phone.He never does during these little moments.It’s easier for him to pretend they aren’t happening.
Hunter’s declined coming to lunch with my parents.Smart.
I push a strawberry around my plate with my fork.It’sfruit.It’s literally one of the healthiest things I could eat.But that doesn’t matter.It never matters with Mom.There’s always something—too much of this, not enough of that, have you considered trying...
“Oh, honey, is that a banana you packed for the drive?”Mom’s gaze lands on my purse where the yellow curve peeks out from the side pocket.“Those are basically sugar sticks.You might want to grab some almonds instead.Protein, you know.”
“Right.”My voice comes out flat.“Thanks.”
She beams like she’s done me a tremendous favor.Like she’s the helpful mother looking out for her daughter’s best interests, not the woman who’s been monitoring my food intake since I was a kid.
“We just worry about you, sweetie.All alone in the city, all that takeout and restaurant food.It’s so easy to let things slip when you don’t have anyone keeping you accountable.”
I nod.Smile.Play the role I’ve perfected over the years.
Inside, I’m counting down the minutes until I can get in my car and drive away from this house, this town, this suffocating concern that feels like anything but.
“I should probably get going soon,” I say, standing to clear my plate.“Traffic on Sunday afternoons, you know.”
“Of course, of course.”Mom stands too, already moving toward the cabinet where she keeps the containers.“Let me pack you some of the salad for later.And maybe some of that grilled chicken—lean protein is so important.”
I let her fuss.Let her pack her carefully portioned containers of approved foods.Let her pretend this is love.
Twenty minutes later, I’m in my car with a backseat full of food I’ll probably throw away, pointing myself toward the city and the apartment where no one comments on my blueberries.
Where no one calls bananas sugar sticks.
Where I can breathe.
The next afternoonI’m eating a delicious lunch on my work break and reveling in the fact that there’s no one to criticize it when my phone vibrates with a text.
Silas
Whip out your calendar, Bailey Emmaline Price.
You want to bang me out of your system, so let’s do this.
I stare at my phone.He full-named me.In a text.About scheduling sex.
You make me sound so mercenary.
Three dots appear immediately.Of course he was waiting for my response.
Silas
There’s nothing mercenary about the way I’m going to do it.
My stomach does a flip.Damn him and his confidence.
Silas
God you’re so cocky.
Haven’t I earned it?Now come on, when are you free?
He has earned it.That’s the problem.
