Romantically Entangled

Chapter 18

I want to reach out to her. It's not realistic, I've been telling myself, to ignore her. We live in the same house.

And maybe it's not fair, either. Maybe I'm completely wrong about her and Megan. Maybe she's not a player.

Kelly is a player. And Bey is nothing like Kelly.

So maybe I need to at least talk to Bey. That would be the adult way to handle things.

My thumb opens a new text, and I select Bey's number from my Contacts. She gave it to me the day I moved in, but I've never texted her before.

I don't know where she is, but I know she's not at home.

A gust of wind ruffles the pages of my journal. I see a flash of lightning in the western sky.

Hey, I type.

Almost immediately, the three dots that signal a response pop up on my phone.

Hey roomie. What's up?

My thumbs hover again as I debate what to say next.

Just sittin in my favorite spot, I type.

I'm pretty sure Bey knows I'm talking about the roof. She's seen me up here before.

I insert a thundercloud emoji. Looks like it's going to storm.

I'm texting about the weather. Lame.

I blow out a breath and start typing again: So do you have some time tonight to talk?

The three dots seem to scroll forever.

"Jesus, Bey," I mutter, feeling like a fool, "just say no already."

Finally, her response appears: I'm just leaving the gym, will be back in five minutes.  Is it OK if I use the door this time to get to you instead of the tree?

She adds an LOL emoji, and I shake my head at my silly sense of relief.

Sure, I type, adding some random smiley face.

I clutch my journal to my chest for a second, then inch over to the open window and toss it on my bed.

I'll have to finish writing in it later.

A few minutes go by. Then Bey pulls his Mercedes Coupe into the bricked front yard.

The car is several years old, but it was still surprising the first time I saw her driving it. She'd said she doesn't get any money from his wealthy family. But that's an expensive car. I haven't asked her about it.

Bey gets out of the Coupe and leans against it. Her face is in shadow, but I see the flash of her teeth as she smiles up at me.

"You do realize," she drawls, raising his voice, "that sitting under a tree in a thunderstorm is pretty crazy."

I glance at the nearby oak and shrug. "I guess I like living dangerously," I quip, realizing too late that I sound more flirtatious than I meant to.

Bey laughs softly, then pushes herself away from the car and heads for the front door.

"I'll be up in a sec," she calls.

I feel my heart speed up.

When I hear her at my door, I pivot to watch her come in. She's got a red cup in one hand, and another sloshing cup of what I assume is beer clutched in her teeth.

Bey pulls the cup from her mouth with her free hand and grins at me as she kicks the door closed and strides to the window.

"No sense wasting that keg," she says cheerfully, stretching the cup through the window. "It's a day old, but what the hell."