Possessive Best Friend

“Like what?”

“Go for as much used equipment as we can. Hire local teenagers for low pay at first. Rent out space we’re not using. That sort of thing.”

She closes her eyes and sighs. “I really am out of my depths here.”

“It’ll be okay.” I put a hand on her arm. “I’m going to help.”

She smiles at me. “Thanks.”

I hesitate. I want to kiss her, but something stops me. She takes a long drink, nearly chugs the whole glass, and sighs again.

“Let’s go for a walk,” I say suddenly.

“Why?” she asks

“It’s nice out. And I want to show you something.”

“But… the wine’s in here.”

I turn around and open a cabinet. There’s an insulated coffee mug in the corner. I grab it, put in some ice, and fill it halfway. “There,” I say.

“You just added ice to the wine,” she says, horrified.

“True, I did. But this wine cost eight dollars, so I suspect it’s okay.”

She makes a face. “Oh, no. I drank cheap wine and liked it.”

“You’re officially a normal person now. Congrats.”

She laughs and snatches the mug. She takes a sip and follows me out the back door. We head through my lawn and out the back gate.

“Where are we going again?” she asks.

“It’s not far.” I put my arm around her and steal the mug. I take a sip and we walk down a path that winds into a wooded area that skirts along behind the houses in this little development. Soon, the moon is mostly blotted out by the trees, and she holds my hand tight, the mug in her other hand, as I use my phone to guide us along.

“Not much further,” I say.

“This is spooky. Like, Blair Witch spooky.”

“Oh, god. Great reference. Also, we are really old.”

She laughs. “You’re old. I’m still young, remember? I don’t own anything.”

“Right. Good for you. I’m so proud.”

She cackles as we round a bend in the path. The sound of water rushing becomes audible and soon we step out of the tree line and up toward a long, rushing river.

I lead her along to a pile of huge rocks. We climb up and sit down, staring out at the river that rushes out through the woods. She leans back on her hands and smiles at me. “I remember this place,” she says.

“I thought you might.”

“We came here once. Back in high school.”

“Yep.” I grin at her. “You were pissed at your brother.”

“God, yeah. Shaun… he was such a dick back then.”

“They all were.”

“True.” She tilts her head and smiles. “But Jacob and Brent were older and they didn’t bother with me at all.”

“You’re the baby in the family, right?”

“Right. I’ve only ever been close with Shaun. I get along with Delia, but, you know. She’s four years older, so.”

“At least you have siblings.” I shrug a little. “I’ve got no one, just my dad.”

“And a house. And a purpose in life.”

“Oh, stop. Family’s important.”

“I know. My family reminds me how important they are all the time.”

“Do you really hate it that much?” I ask.

She frowns and shakes her head. “No,” she says. “There’s a lot of privilege that comes along with being a Lofthouse, and that’s really nice. I mean, living in the manor is like living in a luxury hotel year-round. I didn’t realize people had to cook their own food until I was like fifteen.”

“Oh, god,” I say. “Seriously?”

“I know, it’s awful. I shouldn’t have said that.”

I laugh and shake my head. “You’re so out of touch. Yes, us poors have to cook our own food.”

She glares at me. “You know what I’m saying. I just… grew up in this little world. It’s all I knew.”

“I get that. It’s sort of the same for me.”

She tilts her head. “Really?”

“Sure, I mean… there’s a reason I didn’t go to college.”

“I always wondered that,” she says softly. “I mean, you had the best grades, best SAT scores. You could’ve gone anywhere.”

“Maybe not anywhere, but yeah, I had options. Except my dad didn’t want me going to college. He wanted me to stay right here and work at the business with him. And since he doesn’t have a college degree, he doesn’t think I need one, even if the world’s changed.”

She nods a little, staring out at the water. The moonlight reflects off her beautiful skin and she looks incredible sitting there, her long, thick hair streaming out behind her.

“We’re both trapped in different ways,” she says.

“I think everyone is,” I say. “At least, most people are. And very few ever escape their circumstances. I mean, I was born to do what I’m doing… and now I’m doing it. Some people think that’s a tragedy, but I don’t know. It’s almost comforting.”

“Is it?” She frowns at me. “Tell that to people born in horrible circumstances.”

I nod a little. “Good point.”

“But I’m not in horrible circumstances. That’s the problem.” She shifts and puts her legs out, sighing. She leans her head on my shoulder and I put my arm around her. “I’m a rich girl with rich-girl problems.”