Читать книгу Wait For You, Trust in Me: 2-Book Collection - J. Lynn, Lauren DeStefano, J. Lynn - Страница 19

Tossing my history text onto the edge of my bed, I flopped onto my back and smacked my hands over my eyes. It was only Thursday afternoon and I already felt like I was about to crawl out of my skin.

I guess I could clean something.

Yawn.

My cell chirped from the nightstand, and I rolled over, grabbing it. Half afraid to look at the screen, I did so with one eye closed. Like that somehow made things less shittier if it was the friendly, neighborhood asshole.

It wasn’t.

Sitting up, I opened the text from Cam. Two words and I was grinning like a fool. Miss me?

I responded back with a: No.

The response was almost immediate. If u were Pinocchio, ur nose wld span the state.

Crossing my legs, I leaned against my headboard. Pinocchio? Sounds like your reading level.

Ha. U wound me. Deeply.

Thought you didn’t have feelings?

I lied. I have so many feels for u. Before I could respond, another text came through. When I lie something else grows on me.

I laughed out loud. Thanks for sharing.

Ur welcome. Just keeping u updated.

You can keep that to yourself. Biting down on my lip, I texted back: Did you make it home?

A few minutes passed while I stared at my phone. Yeah. Fam showering me with affection. U cld learn frm them.

I think you get enough attention.

I’m needy.

Boy, don’t I know that.

There was another span of minutes. What r u doing?

Lying on my back, I crossed my ankles. Reading.

Nerd.

Jerk.

Bet u miss me.

My grin had reached embarrassingly epic proportions. Bet you have better things to do right now.

Nope. A few seconds later, who is this??? I frowned as I sat up. And then, Sorry, my sister just stole my phone.

I relaxed. Sounds like a pretty cool sister.

She is. Sometimes. She’s needier than I am. Gotta run.

I texted back: TTYL

The rest of the afternoon dragged and by nine o’clock, I briefly considering taking some NyQuil just to go to sleep. From the living room I heard my cell chirp again. Throwing my toothbrush into the sink, I made a mad four feet dash to my living room and then slowed as I approached my phone.

Go out with me.

Laughing, I forgot I had toothpaste in my mouth and ended up spewing white, foamy gunk all over my chin and shirt. “Jesus, I’m a dork.”

I cleaned myself up and then responded to Cam. Asking me over text is no different from in person.

Thought I’d give it a try. What r u doing now? I’m beating my dad at poker.

Picturing him with his family, I smiled. Getting ready for bed.

Wish I was there.

My eyes widened. What the what?

Wait r u naked?

No!!! I sent back. Perv.

Damn. At least I have my imagination

That’s all you will ever have.

We’ll c.

No you won’t.

I choose to ignore that. Ok. Gotta go. Dad is kicking my ass.

Night Cam.

Goodnight, Avery.

I held onto the phone for an indecent amount of time after that and then took it into my bedroom. Lately, I’d taken to the habit of turning my ringer off at night, because I never knew when I’d get the UNKNOWN CALLER messages. But tonight, I left it on.

Just in case.

#

Sunday morning didn’t feel right without Cam, his obsession with hard-boiled eggs, that damn little skillet, and all those yummy baked goods. I woke up early, as if some internal clock was expecting him to knock on my door. Of course, it didn’t happen and he hadn’t texted all day Saturday. I imagined that he was hanging out with his family and friends that were still living up there.

I tried not to miss Cam, because he was just a friend, and while I wished Brit and Jacob were around, it wasn’t like I missed them, missed them. It wasn’t the same. Or maybe it was.

Pulling out a box of cereal, I made a yuck face. I really could go for some blueberry muffins. I ate my cereal, feeling all kinds of grumpy. I’d just finished washing the bowl when my phone rang.

I hurried into the living room and drew up short when I saw the name on my caller ID.

Mom.

Ooooh fuck.

The phone kept ringing while I debated on picking it up and tossing it out the window. I had to answer, though. Mom and Dad never called. So it had to be important. Answering the phone, I winced. “Hello.”

“Avery.”

Ah, there was the voice—the cultured, clipped, highly impersonal, and cold voice of Mrs. Morgansten. I bit back a string of curses that would burn her perfect ears. “Hi, Mom.”

There was a huge gap of silence. My brows rose as I wondered if she misdialed me or something. Finally she spoke. “How is West Virginia?”

She said ‘West Virginia’ like it was some kind of venereal disease. I rolled my eyes. Sometimes my parents forgot where they came from. “It’s really good. You’re up early.”

“It’s Sunday. Theo has insisted on doing an early brunch with your father at the Club. Otherwise I would not be up at this time.”

Theo? I plopped down on the couch, my mouth hanging open. For the love of little babies everywhere, Theo was Blaine’s father. My parents, they were such… fuckers.

“Avery, are you there?” Impatience filled her tone.

“Yes. I’m here.” I grabbed a pillow and shoved it in my lap. “You’re going to have brunch with Mr. Fitzgerald?”

“Yes.”

And that was all she said to that. Yes. Like it was no big deal. The Fitzgerald’s paid the Morgansten’s off and I was labeled a lying whore, but it was all good in the hood, because they all could still have brunch at the club.

“How is school?” she asked, but she sounded bored. She was probably surfing the Internet for her next cosmetic procedure. “Avery?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. “School is perfect. West Virginia is perfect. Everything is perfect.”

“Don’t you take that tone with me, young lady. After everything you put us through—”

“Everything I put you through?” I was living in an alternate universe.

“And still putting us through,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken a word. “You’re clear across the country, going to some little university in West Virginia instead of—”

“There’s nothing wrong with this school, Mom, or West Virginia. You were born in Ohio. Not that different—”

“That is something I try not to remember.” Her huff was pretty epic. “Which brings me to the point of this call.”

Thank God, baby Jesus, and the Holy Ghost.

“You need to come home.”

“What?” I clenched the pillow to my chest.

She sighed. “You need to stop playing around and come home, Avery. You’ve made your point quite clear by up and doing something as childish as this.”

“Childish? Mom, I hated being there—”

“And who do you have to blame for that, Avery?” Some of the coolness slipped from her voice.

My mouth dropped open. This wasn’t the first time she’d said something like that. Not by a long shot, but it was like a punch in the chest. I stared at the window, shaking my head slowly.

“We only want the best for you,” she began again, regaining the cool aloofness with a line of pure bullshit. “That’s all we’ve wanted and the best thing for you to do is to come home.”

I started to laugh, but it got stuck in my throat. Coming home was in my best interest? The woman was crazy. Just talking to her made it feel like I got the crazy on me.

“Some things have happened here,” she added, and then cleared her throat. “You should come home.”

How many times had I done what they wanted? Too many times, but this was one time I couldn’t back down. Going home was equivalent to sticking my head in a meat grinder and then asking why it hurt. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. “No.”

“Excuse me?” My mother’s voice turned shrill.

“I said, no. I’m not coming back home.”

“Avery Samantha Morgan—”

“I’ve got to go. It was nice talking to you, Mom. Goodbye.” And then I hung up the phone before she could say anything else. I placed the cell on the coffee table and waited.

One minute went by, two minutes, and then five minutes. Letting out a sigh of relief, I collapsed against the couch. I shook my head, literally blown away by the conversation. My mother was insane. I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. What a way to start a Sunday morning.

A sudden knock on the door startled me.

Hopping to my feet, I hurried around the couch, wondering who it could be. It was too early for any of my friends to have come home. Hell, it wasn’t even nine yet, which meant it was probably also too early for a serial killer to pay a visit.

I stretched up and peered through the peephole. “No way.” My heart did a series of backflips as I yanked open the door. “Cam?”

He turned around, lips tipped in a crooked grin. In his hand was a grocery bag. “So, I woke up around four this morning and thought I could really eat some eggs. And eggs with you is so much better than eggs with my sister or my dad. Plus my mom made pumpkin bread. I know how you like pumpkin bread.”

Struck silent, I stepped aside and watched him carry his bag into the kitchen. The back of my throat burned, my lower lip was doing this really weird tremble thing. A knot somewhere deep inside my chest unraveled. My brain clicked off. I didn’t even shut the front door or feel the cool air washing over my bare ankles. I shot forward, crossing the distance between my door and kitchen. Cam turned just as I launched myself at him.

He caught me and stumbled back a step as he caught me with his arms around my waist. I buried my head against his chest, eyes closed and my heart thumping. “I missed you.”