Page 45 of Detour

We switch between two places in town, each of us favoring one over the other. Mine has its strengths while his has its chicken.

“But their egg rolls are so much better,” I whine.

My plea goes unanswered though.

“Hurry up. I don’t want to run into one of your neighbors again.”

“I heard about that,” I snicker even though really, it’s not that funny. I can only imagine the hell he caught not only from Coty, but his girlfriend afterward. I bet Jamie wasn’t thrilled about someone mistaking Drew as another woman’s.

“I figured he would tell you. Please tell me you’re not hooking up with your neighbor.” He laughs incredulously.

I bristle. “I’m not.”

“Well, he likes you, so watch out.”

“What’s not to like? A broke girl with daddy problems and mommy issues. That’s prime stripper material.”

“Over my dead body,” he growls, making me laugh.

“The dull new toy next door caught his attention momentarily, that’s all. He’ll grow tired of playing in the dirt and move on soon.”

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that it’s true.” I shrug even though he can’t see me. “I’m about to pull in.”

I hang up, parking next to his car. All the boys’ cars and bikes are here along with several others, almost filling the lot to capacity. It’s Friday night. Party night.

I rush into Drew’s waiting arms as he leans against his silver beauty. Unable to speak, I press my face into his shoulder, inhaling his fruity musk.

“Are you ready? Or do you need to change first?”

I glance down at my outfit. My ripped-to-shreds skinny jeans hang low on my hips while my thrift store band tee is tied into a knot, showing a slice of belly. I pulled half my hair up into a top knot, leaving the bottom half straight this morning. My skater-style black and white Adidas shoes complete my look.

I scan Drew. I’m underdressed compared to him but that’s nothing new. I swear he strolled out of the womb wearing Nantucket reds. His salmon-colored shorts and blue polo could get him onto any golf course in the country. Perfectly styled hair adds a genuinely charming quality that he already has in spades.

I’m so lucky to have him in my life.

He sees me smiling and returns the gesture. “What?”

“Nothing. Can we go now? If you can stand to be seen with me that is.” I beam, wondering how many more times we’ll be able to do this.

He catches me up on all the things. From his girlfriend to his dad. I’ve never had a close relationship with Drew’s dad but I’ve never had a problem with him either. Drew works with him at some fancy building. I’m not exactly sure what they do, but I know they work hard and love their jobs. Even though I’d never admit it to Drew, I’ve always found it to be inspiring, their situation. Working closely with someone you love and still wanting to show up day in and day out. It can’t be easy, yet Drew and his dad, Robert, make it look like a cake walk.

I grudgingly drive us to his restaurant of choice. As usual, it’s not busy. Must be why their chicken tastes so good—less customers means more attention to fried poultry.

Conversation doesn’t flow as smoothly as usual and I feel myself holding back on certain topics now, whereas before I was always an open book with him. I steer away from anything neighbor related, just telling him bits and pieces about my apartment life. I avoid work talk altogether, fearing I’ll spill the truth about what’s really going on. I’ll tell him about Joe. Just not today. Or tomorrow. Okay, I don’t know when I’ll tell him, but I will—eventually.

I hate hiding things from him but it’s for both of us. His relationship with Jamie is getting more serious by the day. I’m finding my way on my own. Slowly. I still love Drew like a brother and want him in my life; I’m just trimming some of the strings that’ve been tying us together for so long.

Afterward, we’re met with a full parking lot when we return to Creekwood. Unable to find a spot, Drew offers up his, preventing him from coming up. We say our goodbyes and I park in his space once he leaves.

People are everywhere. Packed onto the guys’ balcony. Huddled on the stairs. Some even loiter near the cars. How do the other residents not care? What about the manager? I seriously want to know what kind of deal the guys have with her that she turns a blind eye to this. She lives on the property so she has to hear at least some of this. Creekwood is broken up into three sections forming a broken U shape with the pool in the middle. Hers is in one of the outer buildings while ours is in the central hub.

A pack of guys descends the stairs as I approach. Unease slows my steps. I contemplate going the long way around to the back staircase, the one leading to the pool, but the lights there are constantly burning out, so I pull my shoulders back, walking around them as they fill the sidewalk. A few turn my way and one lets out a low, appreciative whistle. Keeping my head forward, I shoot my eyes over to the group, gauging their proximity.

“Hands off. Shit, eyes off, too.”

Everyone, including me, looks up to see Coty staring down from their front balcony.