Page 19 of Only Between Us

Okay?The backs of my knees are sweating profusely, probably staining this ancient sofa. I can’t afford a ten percent hike in rent.

“Totally fine.” I force a grin. “Just zoned out for a minute.”

I take a quick sip of wine. Sweet, blessed Carla distracts her by playing a card.

MARTY:Happy to come up with an alternative arrangement if that doesn’t work for you.

MARTY:Stop by my place when you get home.

Goddamn it, Marty.

Make that mycreepylandlord. He’s asked me out consistently since the day I moved into the building five years ago. Didn’t seem to care that I’d been with Tom for two of those years.

Or maybe he did.

Since Tom and I broke up last year, Marty’s gone from asking me out for drinks to blatantly inviting me over foralternative arrangements.

SIENA:No arrangement needed. Have you found someone to fix the lock on my front door?

No reply, of course. I’ve only been asking him for weeks. The strength of my grip on the wineglass doubles. I imagine it’s Marty—my fingers wrapped around his sleazy, money-hungry neck.

What are my options here?

I could move back in with Mom, but no part of me wants to burden her during her peaceful retirement. I could try to find somewhere to live in Oakwood. But rent is far higher in Oakwood, given they have the demand from college students.

Fuck. Fuck,fuck.

My phone vibrates again, and I tap it to life, dreading yet another text from Marty. It’s not, though.

It’s my stupid social account. Nothing new from any of theWhatIsAFootballDaddyaccounts, but there’s an ad offer from a swimwear company that’s apparently discovered that I spend my days working on the boardwalk. And…

They’re offering me enough money to cover a couple months’ worth of increased rent. Just to post one single, measly picture of myself in their swimsuit? It’s absurd.

All this, just because people are convinced I’m dating…

Oh God. This is it, isn’t it?

This is my way out of this mess. This is how I afford the new fridge at the shop and still get to pay myself. How I can get my car repaired, bank some cash to afford the higher rent.

I wouldn’t have to ask anyone for a penny. I’d earn it all myself.

This idea hasdisasterwritten all over it. I can’t stand the guy, and he thinks even less of me.

Still, I tap open my thread withWhatIsAFootballDaddy01and stare down at the message that’s gone unanswered all week.

Chapter6Brooks

I choke on a sip of water so hard, Parker has to thump me on the back.

“You told them we’re really dating?” I cough into my fist. A few gym-goers nearby turn toward the racket I’m making, pausing with interest when they recognize me.

When Josh only gives me an odd look—probably because my words weren’t actually discernable over all the coughing—Parker translates: “He’s asking you to confirm that you’ve really told the Rebels ownership team that he’s dating an internet-famous ex-NFL WAG that he’s only met once and hasn’t heard from since.”

“Oh,” Josh says, leaning casually against the squat rack I’d been working at, like he hasn’t ruined my day in the five seconds since he showed up. “Yeah, that’s correct. You’re officially dating Cece Pippen, as far as they’re concerned. For the long haul, etcetera, etcetera.”

I swear, every time this guy talks to me, it’s something new. He’s my personal grim reaper. Backing me into sticky corners.

Maybe I… fuck.