Heartless Player by R.C. Stephens
Thirteen
Rebel
“We need to talk,” Blossom says, sitting at our kitchen table, twiddling her thumbs nervously.
“Why?” I don’t mean to be difficult, but she basically called me a liar yesterday. Besides, I am high on Wolfe and what happened between us last night. I don’t feel like having my bubble pop just yet.
“Because this isn’t us. We don’t fight. We don’t not get along,” she says, searching my eyes, for what I’m not sure.
“We don’t bring home guys who do coke either,” I remind her.
“He slipped up, Rebel. He isn’t perfect, but he’s trying.”
Her words make my blood pump hard and fast. “Are you even listening to yourself right now? He didn’t slip up and accidentally snort coke in our bathroom. How can you even say that after everything we went through with Dad?”
“I love him,” she states, and those words hit me like a ton of bricks.
I blow out a frustrated breath and fall into the kitchen chair across from her. “I was afraid of that. I’m not going to lie and tell you this is okay. It’s not. You clearly saw a pattern of behavior growing up between Mom and Dad. You’ve found a man exactly like Dad. In the psych class I took last year, my prof said that people tend to gravitate toward personalities they are used to. Think about that, Blossom. And think what it will mean for your future if you stay with a man like Preston.”
I look at my phone to check the time. “Shit. I need to be in class in twenty minutes.”
“I’ll drive you,” she offers, and knowing my sister, I can tell she’s processing my words, knowing they hold truth.
“Thanks.” I quickly make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch later since I have classes all day. I grab my jacket and my backpack and we head out.
“So, you want to tell me who that guy was last night?” She smiles mischievously. I wish she would tell me that she’ll dump Preston, but I get that she needs time to work through this.
“A friend,” I answer curtly. Because I’m not sure what Wolfe and I are. Friends? Fuck buddies? Just thinking about him makes my skin feel too warm.
“A very, very handsome friend.” She grins, wagging her eyebrows.
“He is, isn’t he?” I can’t help but swoon. “He’s captain of Westfall’s hockey team.”
“Good for you. Reach for the stars,” Blossom says.
“It isn’t like that,” I answer. “We’re just friends.”
“With benefits,” she adds.
I nod. “Yeah, but he isn’t boyfriend material. He’s warned me enough times.”
“Aren’t you just setting yourself up for heartache?” she asks.
“You know I don’t have many friends.”
“I know,” she says chidingly. “But friends with benefits isn’t your style.”
“I don’t want a boyfriend either. I don’t even want people to know that he’s my friend. That guy is super popular on campus. I don’t know what he sees in a girl like me, but I wouldn’t be able to handle all that attention,” I say.
“See, we’re both messed up. You don’t get it, Rebel.” She flicks down the visor in front of me and opens the mirror. “What do you see?”
I stare into the mirror. “Nothing I like.”
“I see a beautiful, smart, talented person. You’re smoking-hot, Rebel. Did you forget high school so easily? All those boys you had after you.”
“I’ve buried those memories. I’m not that girl anymore.” I turn my head and look out the window.
“And why’s that?” she asks, challenging me in a way I don’t like, yet I know I deserve after giving her all that psychobabble.
“Just leave it alone,” I tell her as she pulls up to the front of Mackee Hall.
“No! I don’t want you making my mistakes either. You see, Rebel, I don’t think I deserve better than Preston. No, wait. I don’t think a guy who’s good will want someone like me. I have nothing to show for myself, nothing to offer.” Her eyes are full of unshed tears when I look back at her.
“Then go to school as a mature student. Take some courses. You’re smart and beautiful. You deserve better than him, Blossom.” My emotions begin to rise to the point I feel tears pricking the backs of my own eyes.
“Give yourself the same lecture,” Blossom says.
“Yeah, I hear you. Two peas in a pod,” I say.
“But one of us has a kick-ass guy who’s into her,” she reminds me.
Thinking of Wolfe and his thick cock makes me flush. “That’s complicated.”
“What good things aren’t?” she asks.
“Good point. I’ve got to go. I hate walking into a lecture late. Everyone stares at me. Thanks for the ride.” I leave the car.
“Bye, Rebel.” She sounds exasperated but gives me a small wave goodbye.
I make my way to class, limping along, keeping my head low and not making eye contact. Blossom doesn’t get it. My missing limb is what people see when they look at me. It defines me.