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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

arden

Carter

Sorry if I offended you. Thanks for the save, Red.

I stare at the text for longer than I care to admit.

I’m still mad. That's why I don’t answer him.

I saw the way his face changed when he turned into my neighbourhood.

I felt him get all weird and stiff because he hadn’t realized I was broke.

Like, the real kind of broke. He acted like the streets were littered with gun-wielding criminals that we had to physically drive over to get to my front door.

Rich people are so out of touch.

It’s not that bad. Living there has its moments.

More break-ins than I’d like. Lots of robberies.

I’ve never been a victim of either, but they happen.

Still, I’ll walk around outside with no problem.

I barely have any issues. Most of the faces I see are familiar, and we’re all friendly enough.

I don’t live in fear. It’s just…a different tax bracket than Carter might be accustomed to.

A large majority of my neighbours are good people .

I run a hand through my hair, read the text again, and huff out a breath.

“My god, just answer him,” Whitney begs, sipping her apple juice.

We’re in the cafeteria on our lunch break. I’ve been glowering at my phone for most of it, barely listening to her talk.

“No.”

“You do live in a shitty area,” she reminds me. “It’s natural to worry. I worry about you all the time.”

“I didn’t like the look on his face,” I admit, sipping my own apple juice. I wish it were acceptable to have a glass of wine on your lunch break before you tend to sick and injured people. “Pure concern and all judgement.”

She shrugs. “You’re a single woman. I think it was sweet that he was concerned.”

I roll my eyes.

“I think this is more of a ‘you’ problem,” she continues. “An insecurity.”

“That I’m poor?” I ask.

She shakes her head, curt and considerate. “No. That you worry people will think it says something about you. It doesn’t, by the way.”

I just scoff, locking my phone for good measure. “Whatever.”

“Plus, he apologized.”

“So?”

“And he doesn’t know the whole story.”

That doesn’t matter. Common courtesy and respect are all I ask for. If a man can’t give me that, an apology means nothing to me.

“I don’t care.”

“I think you should forgive him. He did break somebody’s nose for you. ”

Dear god, that will haunt me for the rest of my life, won’t it?

It’s not that he was worrying about me, it was the look on his face when he did.

It wasn’t disgust, but…disappointment, maybe?

Like he expected more from me. Like that little sliver I gave him, showing him a hint of who I am, it ruined the whole image of me.

I felt ashamed of who I was when he turned onto my street.

I didn’t like that feeling.

I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself, and I do, every single day. His judgement isn’t enough to ruin my mood, but it is enough to make me judge him back.

“Just forgive him and move on,” Whit says, waving her hand. She bites into her chicken strip, shrugging. “It’s not like you ever have to see him again.”

I sip my juice, cocking a brow. “Except at Icebox . All of the time.”

Her chewing slows as she considers this for a second. “Well, you don’t have to talk to him.”

I continue to gulp down my drink, almost done now.

Let that irritating sound of a liquid being slurped up a straw fill the silence between us.

I still haven’t told her about his proposition and I don’t think I will.

That can exist and die between Carter and myself.

I’m horrified that it was ever offered in the first place.

“Right?” she asks, her eyes searching my face. “Or…do you want to talk to him again?”

I stare at her. “Absolutely not.”

“I mean, you kind of hesitated there,” she says.

“I didn’t.”

‘I was being polite by saying ‘kind of.’ You totally hesitated.”

I throw her a dirty look. “No, I didn’t. ”

Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t hesitate!

“Spaced out, really,” she adds, nodding to herself as she smothers her chicken strip in ketchup. “Looked like you were envisioning Big Boy naked.”

I didn’t hesitate and I definitely wasn’t doing that either.

I wince. “Whit.”

She shrugs, talking to herself now. “I don’t blame you. Have you seen the guy? A pretty perfect specimen if I’ve ever seen one. Definitely has anger issues, but we can work on that.”

“Who is we? ”

“Me and you,” she says simply, glancing up at me. “If you date him, I pretty much date him, too. If he’s acting a fool, that looks bad on me. I have a reputation to protect.”

I’m not sure what this ‘reputation’ of hers is.

Whitney is a nurse who comes from a good family.

She takes pole dancing classes on her days off for fun, she’s a pilates addict, and a diehard Pittsburgh fan.

That includes any and all sports teams in this city.

Hockey is her favourite, though. She’s a serial dater who’s never found anyone remotely interesting enough to settle down with.

I’m unclear what part of that could be impacted by Carter being linked to me.

“Well, good thing we’re not dating him and I’m never going to speak to him again.” I flash her a tight, mocking smile that she expertly ignores.

“What’s his sign?”

Nope. Not happening. We aren’t going down this road. Not now. Not ever.

“Absolutely not.”

She rolls her eyes dramatically, tossing down her chicken strip and grabbing her phone. She immediately starts typing away. She’s quiet for a minute, and I spend that whole minute glaring at her head, but she’s too far down the astrology rabbit hole to care.

She pauses and then drops her phone, leaning back in her seat. Without another word, she tilts her head to the ceiling and cackles .

“What?” I grumble, because now I’m interested. Don’t judge me for it. You would be, too. I don’t know much about astrology, and I don’t put much weight into it, but I can admit it’s fun to play around with when you’re looking to feel some sense of purpose in this life.

Whitney gives her head a shake, her laugh tapering off. When she meets my eyes again, there’s a whole new look in them. I don’t like the excitement I see, how much whatever she just read pleases her.

“He’s an Aries ,” she says, barking out another laugh. “Because, of course he is.”

Hot heated. Impulsive. Confident. Oh, yeah.

Carter Forkerro definitely fits that bill.

It makes sense, and even though I know Whit is chomping at the bit to get his full chart, I refuse to ask her any more questions.

Although I’m intrigued, if she gets a whiff of interest from me, this is going to turn into a full-on investigation.

This already feels oddly creepy for two girls to be doing when one has no intention of seeing a guy again.

“Arden.”

I let out a long breath through my nose. “What?”

“You’re a Sagittarius.” She says it seriously. Like this is crucial and time-sensitive information.

I finish off my apple juice. “And?”

She chuckles again and shakes her head, like she just realized this situation is going to be much more entertaining than expected. Neither of us knows the man, but it seems Whitney is already playing out the highlight reel of our lives in her mind.

“It means you’re compatible as fuck.”