Contradictions (Woodfalls Girls 3)

Cameo flashed us a smile that might have fooled someone who didn’t know her as well as we did. Derek started to give her a hug and tell her it would work out, but she squirmed out of his arms, refusing to talk about it. He shot me a look, but I shrugged my shoulders. There was no reason to push her. Cameo would talk to us when she was ready.

None of us mentioned Chad the rest of the morning as we tackled cleaning the apartment. Cameo was like the Tasmanian Devil, buzzing around the apartment like a hundred-pound tornado. Derek waited until she left the apartment carrying a load of laundry down to the washer and dryer on the second floor before commenting that a crazy cleaning Cameo wasn’t entirely a bad thing. I nodded my head in agreement. Not that I wanted my friend to have her heart ripped out. I’m just saying a nice clean apartment isn’t a bad thing, especially since I had to work today.

Thanks to Cameo’s early-morning-vacuuming wake-up call, I managed to arrive not only on time, but actually early to work. I sat in my Jeep trying to coax what little heat I could out of the vents while I waited for Larry to arrive and open the doors to Javalotta. I warily pulled my phone out of my pocket while I waited. My phone, which had been my life-force practically from the day my parents had gotten me one for my fifteenth birthday, was something I tried to avoid lately. I had yet to log on to my Instagram or Facebook accounts since the accident two weeks ago. I debated whether I was ready to face social media again or if I should text Trent. Neither were very appealing choices.

After a night of rest and with no booze flowing through my veins to cloud my judgment, I was hyperaware of what almost happened before Cameo stormed in. I tried to tell myself it was a fluke. I mean, from a guy’s perspective, his timing was perfect. It had been ages since I had hooked up with anyone, and I had to admit, I was beginning to feel the urge. It could have been any guy standing there. Of course, what did that mean for our date? It would finally make my friends shut up, but I owed Trent a kiss too, and I’ve never welched on a dare or a bet. How the hell did I let this happen? It was like I was going on this date as a favor to Brittni and to pay off my bet to Trent. The only one not getting anything out of it was me.

Despite feeling like I’d somehow been hustled, I sent a text to Trent. He answered immediately, which was a little shocking since he never seemed to have his phone on him whenever I was with him. Our texting conversation went pretty much how I expected.

Hey

Hey. How’s your roommate?

She’s better.

That’s good. I’ll pick you up tonight? No beating around the bush. I swear, he could stand to take some texting etiquette classes.

I work until nine.

That’s fine. How about I pick you up at your place at nine thirty?

Fine

See you then

And that was how we set up our date. Not in the mood to deal with social media, I stowed my phone in my pocket and turned up my radio to a near-deafening decibel. The bass vibrated through the metal floorboards of my Jeep, traveling up my legs until my entire body felt like it was a part of the song.

I was so lost in the music I didn’t notice my boss Larry had arrived until he rapped against the window. Jumping, I turned to look out the window. I pulled my stomach out of my throat and turned off my car.

“You scared the crap out of me,” I complained, opening my door. A blast of northern wind cut through my double layer of clothes, making me swear. It was mother-sucking cold. Why did I love Maine so much? I bet my friend Ashton was lying on the beach in Florida drinking margaritas while I froze my nips off.

“I’m surprised you heard me. Your music was so loud I could see your Jeep rocking from across the parking lot. Loud music is bad for your hearing,” Larry said, pulling his keys out of his pocket so he could unlock the back door of the coffeehouse.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Isn’t that just an old person’s scare tactic because they’re out of touch with the superior generation?” I scooted past him, chuckling. It was common knowledge that the owners of Javalotta considered themselves hip and in touch with the youth. Teasing them about being old was always a surefire way to keep things interesting at work.

Today was no exception. Larry turned up the volume on the coffeehouse speakers a couple notches louder than usual. I bit back a grin as I readied Javalotta for the day. He was almost too easy.

Reanna, another part-timer, came in ten minutes later, apologizing to Larry for being late. He gave her his classic warning, but let it go since she was technically only a few minutes late. Tardiness was frowned upon, but as long as you didn’t make a habit of it, Larry was pretty cool about it.

Reanna joined me behind the counter where I was filling the industrial-sized coffee makers and espresso machines. She looked flustered as she tied her apron on.

“What’s up?” I asked, nudging her with my hip.

“I hit another damn mailbox. My dad is going to have a fit.”

I had to laugh at her. Reanna was singularly the worst driver I had ever met. During normal driving conditions, she was known to hit a few obstacles. Add in some bad weather and she was a total terror on the road. “Whose was it this time?”

“My nitpicking old bag of a neighbor. She’s always complaining about something. Me hitting her mailbox will not go unnoticed when I get home.”

“Did she see you hit it?”

“Yeah, go figure. She was outside picking up her paper, which is why I hit it in the first place. She distracted me and I didn’t see the patch of ice. I turned the wheel a little too hard and wound up jumping the curb.” Reanna gave me a pained look before continuing. “She was yelling and hollering that I had tried to run her over on purpose.”

“Why would she think that?”

“Because she knows I’ve disliked her since she ratted on me senior year when Tommy Heckler and I were just about ready to do the deed in the front seat of his pickup truck. Nothing like trying to get everything in the right place only to look up and see some old lady’s face squished against the window. Talk about things going flat.”

I nodded my head knowingly. There was nothing like those moments when a parent or other adult walked in on you. Jackson and I had had our share of mishaps with his mom.