Blurred Lines

Chapter Sixteen

"Blair, I'm really happy that you called me yesterday." Angela uncrossed her legs and stood up. She straightened her navy dress and gave me a warm smile.

I stood, grabbing my phone and keys from the table. "I needed this. Thank you."

"Of course." She leaned against the edge of her desk and folded her hands in front of her. "Do you want to start meeting regularly again?"

"No, I think I'm okay. I feel a lot better." I shook my head. "In the future, we can discuss this further, but as of right now, I want to continue to meet by appointment."

"Okay." Angela nodded. "Even though we don't meet, how about we just continue to check in with one another?"

"Sure." Tucking my phone in my back pocket, I made my way towards the door to her office. "Thank you again. I'll see you later."

"Bye. Have a good one, Blair." She retreated to the swivel chair behind her desk as I left. I scrolled through my text messages as I made my way to my car.

Bri had texted me:

Hey! Want to hang out with Jonah and Patrick again tomorrow? I was thinking we could go tubing down the river or something like that.

I responded that I did, ignoring the way baby butterflies appeared in my stomach. Ten minutes later, Bri made a group chat with the four of us to discuss the plans for the next day.

I called my dad as I got in the car to drive home. He answered as I was backing out of my parking space.

"Hey punkin'. How was your session?"

"It was good." I changed subjects. "Are you going to be at the office late again tonight?"

"I'm in the office for a little while longer, but I'll be out on patrol later on." There was the rustling of papers in the background. "Why, what's up?"

"Okay, then I'll make some dinner and bring it up to the station soon." Flicking on the turn signal, I waited for the light to turn green.

"Good plan. What time are you thinking?"

I pushed on the accelerator, stopping again at the next red light. "I can be there in about an hour, if that works."

"Sounds good to me," Dad agreed. "See you in an hour."

"Bye Dad." He hung up.

I let the windows down for the rest of the short drive home. When I pulled into the driveway, I checked my phone to find that Bri and the boys had organized the time and transportation of our river trip. I would have enough time to change after coming home from The Coffee Spot before Bri picked me up to go to Jonah's house, who would drive us the rest of the way to the parking lot by the river. They decided we would use the overpriced bussing service that transported kayakers and tubers from the end back to where their cars were parked at the beginning.

Patrick had also texted me:

Ducks or pineapples?

I had to read it twice before responding:

Huh? What are you talking about?

The bubbles at the bottom of the screen appeared and disappeared before his message popped up on my screen.

Choose one. Ducks or pineapples?

I frowned. It seemed like a trick question.

Ducks. Why?

The message materialized immediately.

You'll see.

"Boys are so weird," I muttered to myself, rolling my eyes at the cryptic message. I let myself into the house, locking the door behind me. Knowing that I would have to prepare a quick meal to get to the station in a timely manner, I decided on chicken caesar salad wraps with chopped veggies and hummus on the side. Using leftover grilled chicken, I assembled the wraps and tucked them into plastic containers for transport. I packed dinner in the car and headed off to the police station.

When I arrived, the lot was almost full of overflow parking from the council meeting across the street. I slid into a tight spot closest to the station, next to a black car and a gray truck that was practically on my side of the white line.

I squeezed out of the door, careful not to hit the black car next to me. As I started to text my dad to let him know of my arrival, I looked up at the sound of a shrill voice exiting the police station. It was a woman with dark hair pulled back into a bun and dark lipstick. She was practically yelling into the speaker of a cell phone glued to her cheek. I knew her.

Victoria Johnson.

"They don't even care! I swear, it's like I-"

The whine paused as I opened the backdoor to take out the lunch boxes, but almost immediately rose an octave as she yelled, "Hey!"

I looked up. She was talking to me. Victoria's phone was pushed against her shoulder and her finger was pointing at me. My heart beat a little faster and I tried to make my movements quicker.

"Don't hit my car!" She yelled. She doesn't even recognize me.

"I'm not. Don't worry." I waved at her. She jogged over as I grabbed the containers and shut the back door.

"You were pretty close," Victoria chastised, tugging a dark strand behind her ear. Ignoring her, I locked the door and tucked my keys inside my pocket.

I was about to leave when she asked, "Um, could you please wait just a minute?"

"For what?" My tone clipped at the end, her attitude was snobby and I was losing my patience.

Victoria checked her car door, making sure I really hadn't hit it and left a mark. She licked her finger and pushed against something on the paint, giving me a side-eye glare.

I resisted the urge to sneer at her, but instead I just repeated, "I didn't hit your car."

She straightened. "I can still check, you know."

"I know." I pursed my lips. I grabbed the lunch boxes and turned to walk away.

Victoria sniffled. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to lose the attitude and show a little kindness. You don't know what someone else might be going through."

I kept walking, my anger brimming to the surface and beginning to boil over.

"Oh trust me," I mumbled, seething. "I know." 

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What did you think of this chapter? 

What do you think Patrick means by 'ducks or pineapples'?

What do you think of Blair's interaction with Victoria Johnson?

Thank you for reading! 

- Payton