Page 85 of Never Been Matched
Exiting the bedroom, I find Spencer and Audrey in the kitchen.
Audrey sits at the island, a steaming mug of coffee cupped in her hands.
Spencer is at the counter, pouring another cup.
“Hey.” I adjust the waistband on my sweats, rolling the fabric to keep them from falling off.
Audrey frowns at me. “You didn’t come home last night.”
“You just took off from the school without telling anyone anything,” I shoot back.
She sighs. “I’m sorry, okay?”
Spencer approaches, handing me a cup and brushing a kiss against my forehead. “I’ll give you two a minute.” He smiles down at me. His hair is messy, his eyes still sleepy.
Maybe I can get Audrey out of here quickly and convince him to go back to bed for a little bit. Or a day.
He heads down the hall toward his office.
I put sexy thoughts out of my head and move further into the kitchen, setting my mug down on the other side of the island, facing Audrey. “What happened last night? Why did you bail?”
“It was no big deal; I just needed some air.”
Of course she’s downplaying it. “You disappeared. Without your purse.”
She rolls her eyes. “I just walked down to that little bar. It was fine. I was only there for like ten minutes before Carter showed up. So,” she says. “You and Spencer.”
She’s changing the subject. I could fight with her, but I don’t have it in me. Besides, her bailing when presented with the slightest inconvenience isn’t new. She’s walked out of upscale restaurants if they take more than a few minutes, hung up mid-call when I’ve tried to talk to her about anything complex, and ditched school so much she almost didn’t graduate. “Yes. Me and Spencer.” I like the sound of that. I blow on my coffee. “Are you going to run off and tell Mother?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.” Her voice is firmer this time. “I know you don’t believe me, but I haven’t been telling her anything.”
“Oh, yeah? Since when?”
“Since a while. She doesn’t even know I have my license now. But she’s been calling a lot over the past week. I haven’t told her anything. She knows you’re here, obviously, but she doesn’t know what you’re doing. She knows it has to do with Beverly. And money. Which means she’s going to try to get involved.”
“I have figured as much myself. It’s her favorite hobby.”
She leans forward. “I want to help you. I don’t want to be a part of her schemes. Not anymore.”
Something in my chest loosens. But can I believe her? “Why?”
She shrugs. “Because I like it here.”
“You do?” I’m skeptical. “You know there isn’t a spa?”
She rolls her eyes. “I know. It’s not like LA.”
“I know. That’s kind of the charm.”
“And I think I get that now. The people here are real. Sometimes really annoying,” she adds.
A surprised laugh barks out of me.
“But still real. In LA, everything is about how you look, what you drive, how much you spend. It’s so . . . superficial.” She rubs her finger against a spot on the island. “People here are different. I’m different here. I want to be different.”
