something about where she might have left her lip gloss.
As she dug into the bag, she wasn’t watching where she was going. She ended up tripping on the curb and nearly falling on her face. I wanted to be the one to save her, to right her before she could fall. If I were being honest, I just wanted to touch her just for a moment. Unfortunately, she managed to right herself before I could grab her and help her up.
“That purse is going to end up killing you,” I told her. “Either you’re going to fall into it and never be seen again, or you’re going to fall off a cliff while looking for something in it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said.
She always said that whenever I made a comment about Grand Central Handbag.
“I bet I could put a mouse in there and you would never find it.”
“I most certainly would.”
“You wouldn’t notice it until you found nibble marks in your lipstick.”
Tria groaned at my joke and pulled the bag up a little against her side as we rounded the last turn before Fin’s.
“I’ll see you about one?”
Tria nodded.
“Hopefully, I won’t be too late. I hate making you wait for me.”
“I have nothing else to do,” I told her with a shrug.
“Thanks again,” she said.
“No worries.”
Tria smiled and turned to walk into Fin’s. There was a good chunk of me that just wanted to follow her inside, greasy food smells be damned. But as she disappeared behind the entrance, I turned to head back home.
I was never one to cling, but it almost seemed to hurt when she walked away from me.
Chapter 7—Stake the Claim
The walk home was interesting.
I had been thinking about our conversation most of the night while hanging out at Feet First and listening to some crappy garage band. The conclusion I had drawn was that she had been intentionally elusive about her foster family, and my curiosity gnawed at me as I waited for her to exit Fin’s so I could walk her home and barrage her with more questions.
I didn’t even ask who the patron of the night was this time.
“Why did that guy call you Demmy?”
“My full name is Demetria,” Tria said. “I went by Demmy as a kid. I changed it up a bit when I moved here.”
“New name for a fresh start?”
“Something like that.”
“So, tell me everything else about this family you grew up with,” I said.
“I thought I did,” she said with a little shrug. She started digging around in her purse again, which I was starting to realize was some kind of distraction tactic, and I wasn’t falling for it.
“You can live without that lip shit for a few minutes,” I said as she looked up at me through narrowed eyes. “Tell me about your brother. What’s his name?”
She paused for far longer than was really necessary. I was about to press when she finally spoke up.
“It’s, um…it’s Keith Harrison,” she finally said. She stared at the ground as she spoke. “Keith and I grew up together.”
“Keith, the douchebag, Keith?” I asked. “The one I’m going to fillet if I ever see him again?”
“Well, yes,” Tria said. “Except the filleting part.”
“Keith is your brother ?” I couldn’t hide my shock. It was the farthest thing from my mind, and I didn’t know how to react to that kind of news. At least I understood her hesitation now. Her brother ? She said she was six when her dad died, so she had been living with him since she was a little kid, raised as siblings, and then they end up together? How fucked up was that?
“You know, I really took quite enough of that kind of crap when I was in high school, and I don’t need to hear any more of it now. Yes, we grew up together in the same house. No, we are not related by blood in any way, and yes, we dated. Deal with it!”
I turned to look at her then, eyebrows raised to meet her glare. Really, how else did she expect me to react? It was fucked up, without a doubt. We looked at each other for
As she dug into the bag, she wasn’t watching where she was going. She ended up tripping on the curb and nearly falling on her face. I wanted to be the one to save her, to right her before she could fall. If I were being honest, I just wanted to touch her just for a moment. Unfortunately, she managed to right herself before I could grab her and help her up.
“That purse is going to end up killing you,” I told her. “Either you’re going to fall into it and never be seen again, or you’re going to fall off a cliff while looking for something in it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said.
She always said that whenever I made a comment about Grand Central Handbag.
“I bet I could put a mouse in there and you would never find it.”
“I most certainly would.”
“You wouldn’t notice it until you found nibble marks in your lipstick.”
Tria groaned at my joke and pulled the bag up a little against her side as we rounded the last turn before Fin’s.
“I’ll see you about one?”
Tria nodded.
“Hopefully, I won’t be too late. I hate making you wait for me.”
“I have nothing else to do,” I told her with a shrug.
“Thanks again,” she said.
“No worries.”
Tria smiled and turned to walk into Fin’s. There was a good chunk of me that just wanted to follow her inside, greasy food smells be damned. But as she disappeared behind the entrance, I turned to head back home.
I was never one to cling, but it almost seemed to hurt when she walked away from me.
Chapter 7—Stake the Claim
The walk home was interesting.
I had been thinking about our conversation most of the night while hanging out at Feet First and listening to some crappy garage band. The conclusion I had drawn was that she had been intentionally elusive about her foster family, and my curiosity gnawed at me as I waited for her to exit Fin’s so I could walk her home and barrage her with more questions.
I didn’t even ask who the patron of the night was this time.
“Why did that guy call you Demmy?”
“My full name is Demetria,” Tria said. “I went by Demmy as a kid. I changed it up a bit when I moved here.”
“New name for a fresh start?”
“Something like that.”
“So, tell me everything else about this family you grew up with,” I said.
“I thought I did,” she said with a little shrug. She started digging around in her purse again, which I was starting to realize was some kind of distraction tactic, and I wasn’t falling for it.
“You can live without that lip shit for a few minutes,” I said as she looked up at me through narrowed eyes. “Tell me about your brother. What’s his name?”
She paused for far longer than was really necessary. I was about to press when she finally spoke up.
“It’s, um…it’s Keith Harrison,” she finally said. She stared at the ground as she spoke. “Keith and I grew up together.”
“Keith, the douchebag, Keith?” I asked. “The one I’m going to fillet if I ever see him again?”
“Well, yes,” Tria said. “Except the filleting part.”
“Keith is your brother ?” I couldn’t hide my shock. It was the farthest thing from my mind, and I didn’t know how to react to that kind of news. At least I understood her hesitation now. Her brother ? She said she was six when her dad died, so she had been living with him since she was a little kid, raised as siblings, and then they end up together? How fucked up was that?
“You know, I really took quite enough of that kind of crap when I was in high school, and I don’t need to hear any more of it now. Yes, we grew up together in the same house. No, we are not related by blood in any way, and yes, we dated. Deal with it!”
I turned to look at her then, eyebrows raised to meet her glare. Really, how else did she expect me to react? It was fucked up, without a doubt. We looked at each other for
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