Rebel Soul

“So?” AJ asks once we reach the cross street.

“Ugh. It’s nothing, really. I rode over here with West, and he’s currently busy with his guard dog of a lawyer. I need to pack some things and didn’t want to bother them. Simple as that.”

She cuts her eyes toward me. “Simple as that, you say?”

“Yup.” I refuse to give an inch, because that would mean examining the feelings slithering through my system far too closely for my own liking.

“Hmm.” She taps her nails on the wheel. “If you say so. Why don’t we grab lunch before heading back to mine?”

“Only if we can get something greasy and incredibly bad for us.”

AJ beams. “Mickey D’s, here we come.”

I throw my head back, running my fingers through my red locks. “Ugh, yes. I would bathe in their sweet ‘n sour if I could.”

“Yes, girl, yes.” Her stomach grumbles, almost as if on cue, and the two of us dissolve into a fit of giggles.

Ten Chicken McNuggets, a medium fry, and two tubs of sweet-n-sour sauce later, AJ and I are back at her place sorting through the assortment of items I’d left in her guest room over the years.

It used to be a running joke between the two of us that I’d grab my shit to take home next time, but now, I’m so grateful that next time never came, because I’d literally have nothing save for the clothes on my back.

But in the sanctuary of AJ and Brock’s spare bedroom, I have a closetful of clothes, spare makeup and brushes, panties and a bra or two, and at least four pairs of shoes. I even found a little muslin sack filled with a few pairs of earrings and a necklace. Hell. Yes.

AJ pulls up some music on her phone, blasting some old school Blink-182 while she sends out emails for the nonprofit she works for and I pack my stuff into a duffle bag. Mark Hoppus is crooning about Friday nights and cologne when my phone starts buzzing on the floor next to me.

Glancing down, I see West’s name and number flashing across the screen. “Hello,” I say, keeping my voice even.

“Where are you?” he asks, sounding mildly panicked. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, West.”

“Where are you?” he asks again.

“I’m back at AJ’s.”

“Why? Are you staying with her now? Shit. This is all Colton’s fault.” He starts muttering under his breath, and I can’t help the little zip of happiness that moves through me at his concern.

“Chill. I just came to get my stuff.”

“But how’d you get there? You…you didn’t walk, did you?”

“Dude. AJ came and picked me up. I’m fine. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

A breath whooshes out of him. “And you’re not mad?”

“At you? Nope. I think your friend’s a grade-A jerk, though.”

“Yeah, he, uh…he can be. But once you get to know him, he’s a really good guy.”

I snort. Good looking? Sure. Even I can admit that his lean, muscled physique, dirty blond hair, chiseled jaw, and piercing eyes are an appealing combination. Too bad his personality takes him down from a ten to a two. But…whatevs. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Okay. You’ll be home for dinner?” he asks, his voice tinged with something that sounds a lot like hopefulness.

So, naturally, I have to mess with him. “Depends. Whatcha making? Fair warning, I can’t cook.”

“Eh, it’s not my strong suit either, but I make a mean grilled cheese. I’ll even throw a can of tomato soup on the stove.”

“Campbell’s?”

“As if I’d get any other.”

“Deal. See you soon.” I end the call with a huge, cheek-splitting, cheesy grin.

AJ wastes no time, pouncing like a lioness. “Don’t you look happy?” she sings.

Not willing to give an inch, I reply, “Well, all things considered, I’m not unhappy.”

“Ugh!” She throws a sweater at me, and I snatch it out of the air, fold it, and place it into my bag. “I hate you sometimes.”

“No, you don’t. You love me. You couldn’t live without me. I am the fucking Gina to your Spencer,” I say, referencing two of our favorite book characters.

“True, true. But I swear to you now, if my future children ever ask me about truffle butter, I will die. D–I–E, die.”

We both crack up, laughing nearly as hard as we did when we read it the first time. God, I love our little two-gal book club.

Once all of my stuff is packed up, we stand and survey the room. “Gah! It looks so…empty,” AJ declares.

“Right? Maybe y’all should have a baby!” I say, only half joking.

AJ rears back. “Whoa, hey—no.” She shakes her head vehemently. “I mean, one day, but not yet. We’ve only been married a year, and I think we wanna enjoy each other a little more.”

I check her hip with mine. “Putting in those practice hours, huh?”