Page 69 of Personal Foul
It’s exhausting, honestly, and one of the things I enjoy most about Marycliff in general, but especially spending time with Charity, is that I get a break from all of those expectations and machinations.
Charity doesn’t give a shit that my dad’s a state senator with aspirations of being governor as a stepping stone to a run for president.
If anything, I think that might be another entry in my long list of cons for her. Which, if I think about it, has to be far longer than any list of pros.
“Why are you here, Charity?” The question comes out of my mouth as soon as it enters my head, and I open my mouth again to call it back, or dismiss it, or something, but I can’t. Instead, it hangs there between us, Charity blinking at me in surprise.
“Uh …” She looks around like she does when she’s caught off guard. “You invited me?”
Chuckling, I set my books on the coffee table and move to the center spot on the couch, not touching her, but close enough to do so if I want to. Ifshewants me to. “I did. Why did you accept? And why did you text me yesterday asking if I was free?”
She holds my gaze for a moment, then drops her hand in her lap and looks away, studying the wall decor and the artfully arranged items on the bookshelves next to the TV. “Well. I don’t have to lie to you,” she says at last, meeting my eyes again, her gaze steady and clear. “You already know all the things I’m most ashamed of. How I don’t fit into your world or the one I really came from.” She spreads her hands. “I’m an impostor in every place I might belong.” Her hands close, and she places them in her lap. “Except here. You’re the only person I don’t have to pretend with.”
“What about your sister? Your niece?”
She tilts her head back and forth. “Less so with them, but still a little. Hope knows about how things were for me, kinda. But she’s seven years older than me, so she was already well into college and dating my brother-in-law when everything blew up and we moved so I could go to Skyline Academy. She didn’t experience that the same way I did. For her it was a dream come true, because she got the wedding of her dreams, an awesome honeymoon, and a strong financial start to her married life because my parents had so much extra cash. But it really just set her up for the comfortable life she lives now.”
“So she doesn’t really get it.”
A shrug. “She tries, but … no. Not really.”
“And I do?”
Another crooked grin. “Maybe not completely either, but you can at least understand some of what I went through. You witnessed a lot of it. And you know about my dad.” Her voice falters, and she looks down.
Unable to help it anymore, I reach over and caress one of her ankles. Then up onto her calf.
Her eyes jerk to mine, and I freeze, waiting for her to tell me to stop touching her or ask what I think I’m doing or something. Instead, she shifts closer.
I hook an arm under her legs, lean over and do the same around her back, and hoist her into my lap.
She lets out a startled laugh, her hands going to my shoulders to steady herself, and I grin at her. Her smile fades as she studies my face. “Why am I here?” she asks, turning the question back around on me.
I shrug, feeling put on the spot. Which I realize is silly since I just did the same thing to her. “You invited yourself over yesterday.” I say it in a joking tone so she knows that’s not my real answer, but part of me hopes she accepts it at face value.
Hercut the craplook disabuses me of that notion immediately. Sighing, I shift her closer to me. “I like you.” It’s three words. Simple. Bold. No frills. No bullshit.
Blinking, she waits for me to elaborate, but I don’t. Her eyebrows rise, at least a little incredulous. “Seriously? That’s it?”
“Do I need another reason than that?”
She lets out a bark of laughter, tries to slip out of my lap, but when I tighten my grip on her in protest, stays put. “You like me,” she repeats.
I nod.
“Since when?”
Opening my mouth to answer, I have to pause, because no matter what I say, she probably won’t believe me. Finally, I settle on, “I’ve never not liked you.”
Her eyebrows climb higher. “Coulda fooled me,” she mutters.
Nodding, I can’t deny that. “I liked getting a reaction out of you. You’re not like anyone else I’ve ever met, to be honest. Most people have some reaction to my family name and everything it represents, but not you. When you weren’t outright ignoring me, you looked at me with complete disdain.” I shrug. “I liked seeing what else I could get from you.”
This time she stands, climbing off me, and after than another brief squeeze of protest that makes no difference, I don’t try to stop her. “So this is all just a game to you?” She throws her hands in the air, her voice loud, angry, and this is not one of the times I enjoy her fiery side. “This whole time, all our interactions are just you trying to provoke me?” She looks away, crossing her arms. “Here I am, baring my soul to you.” One hand goes to her forehead. “I’m such an idiot. I should’ve known better. Ididknow better.” All of that is muttered, obviously more to herself than me, then she’s bending over the couch and gathering up her books.
Jumping to my feet, I set a hand on her shoulder but she shakes me off. “Don’t touch me,” she hisses.
“Hey, whoa, can you hold on a second? I was trying to be honest with you, and now you’re punishing me. I don’t think that’s fair.”
