Inferno - Chelle Bliss by Chelle Bliss

“I’m not in love.”

“Uh-huh,” he mutters, smirking behind the lip of his bottle.

I can’t be in love. I barely know her.

I’m in lust.

That’s all it is, and it’ll wear off quickly.

Maybe I need a few more tastes before she works her way out of my system and I can continue with my carefree and uncomplicated life.





10





OPAL





“Hello,” I say cautiously into the phone after picking up a number I don’t recognize.

“Opal?” the woman replies. The voice is familiar yet not.

“Yeah,” I whisper and hold my breath.

“It’s Fran. Stone’s great-aunt. We met at the Neon Cowboy.”

I exhale, feeling a sense of relief and joy at the sound of her cheery voice. I loved her from the moment I met her. She was like a breath of fresh air.

“Fran. Oh my God. Yes. How are you?”

“I’m as good as I can be at my age. I’m vertical, as they say. How are you, dear? How’s Stone?”

I collapse back onto my couch. “I’m doing okay. Looking for work, and I have my own place now.”

“And Stone?” she asks when I leave out a response about him on purpose.

“He’s well, but I’m sure you know that.”

“You two a thing yet?”

“I don’t think so.” I stare up at my ceiling, remembering all the things we did a few nights ago.

It was wonderful. The best I’ve ever had, but I wouldn’t tell him that. I’m not sure I’d have a chance to tell him even if I wanted to, because I’m not positive he’ll call me again.

“What the hell does that mean?”

I shrug even though she can’t see me do it. “I don’t know. We’ve seen each other once since that night at the Cowboy.”

“Men are dumb,” she mumbles. “Be patient with him, but not too patient.”

“What’s that mean? How can I be patient but not too patient?”

There’s rustling on the other end of the phone. “What are you doing right now?”

“Sitting on the couch, contemplating the rest of my life.”

“Why don’t you meet me for lunch? My treat. Bear’s working and I’m hungry. I hate dining alone.”

I look around, knowing there’s not much else except old pizza and ramen noodles in my kitchen. “Sure. I’d love to have lunch with you.” Lord knows I don’t have many friends. Hell, I don’t have any, for that matter. It’s been ages since I’ve been out with someone to talk over a good meal and relax without any pressure.

“Where do you live? I’ll swing by and grab you. No use in wasting gas in two cars.”

“How about I pick you up?” I tell her because I have a thing about who I let drive me. I’ve had one too many nightmares about car accidents to get in the car with anyone, especially an older person who might not see very clearly.

“Perfect. I’ll text you my address. Wear something cute,” she says and hangs up.

I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at the black screen. “Wear something cute,” I repeat to myself with my eyebrows drawn, completely confused. “What the…” My phone beeps, and her address appears on the screen.

Lucky for me, I’m already dressed cute. I have on a pair of black leggings with a spaghetti-strap tank top that is tight around my bust and flowy near my waist. My hair is tied back in a messy ponytail that trails down my back, ending near my strapless bra. The sandals I’m wearing are my favorite too. They’re black and strappy, but the most comfortable things I’ve ever worn on my feet.

I punch Fran’s address into the GPS app on my phone and am pleasantly surprised that she lives only ten minutes away. I grab my purse, checking my face for a split second before dashing out the door, excited to spend time with Fran.

If I could’ve picked my foster mom, she would’ve been exactly like Fran. I like her no-bullshit attitude, and I don’t care if Stone thinks she’s nosy; he doesn’t realize what a blessing that can be. The alternative is what I lived with, and knowing you’re unimportant isn’t something that feels good.

As soon as I pull up in front of Fran’s house, she opens her front door and motions for me to come inside. I peer out my windshield, soaking in the beauty of the house. I can see Fran living in something so pretty, but Bear doesn’t fit at all. He is too rough around the edges, and the two images don’t mesh inside my brain.

I climb out of my car and am instantly hit by the heat and humidity. If my hair had any straightness left, it is surely gone now.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” Fran says, holding out her arms before I make it up the walkway. “Give me a hug.”

I embrace her without a second thought. “Thank you for inviting me out.”

She sways from side to side, not letting me go. “Thank you for saying yes to this old lady.”

“Your house is beautiful,” I tell her as I pull away from her arms.

“Come in for a minute. I need to grab my purse and shoes.” She turns and steps inside the house, and I follow.

My eyes instantly go upward to a giant chandelier in the entryway. I’m impressed with the modernity of the style. It’s not something I would expect from someone of Fran’s age. “Wow.”