Two things were wrong. One, Tate had found a backup singer for his clownish singing style. And two, I cared.
Have you ever been irritated at yourself for being irritated? So it just spirals until you are so frustrated, you can barely form words? That was me, sitting in the back seat of the car while Tate and Susan sang songs in the front seat like idiots. Who should I kill first? I asked myself as I rubbed my temples, trying to push away a sudden headache from their unholy volume.
Tate turned down the music. "You okay back there?" he asked, seeing my poor attempt to keep a headache at bay.
"She hates singing," Susan answered for me like a freaking translator I hadn't asked for.
"Really?" Tate asked sarcastically. His green eyes found mine in the review mirror, a glint of amusement sparking to life. "I had no idea."
The evening lights filtered through the car, casting all of us in shadow. But his bright eyes were unaffected, still clear in the dark as he looked at me. I could feel them on my face. Being seen when it was the last thing I wanted. It did things to my brain. Made me believe in things I had sworn to never believe in again. Gosh, I sound like a drama queen.
I looked out the window, pretending to be bored. I didn't like that he already knew that about me. That he knew a few of my pet peeves and tics. But...
The way he had sung "Classic" to me at the photoshoot sent a wave of pleasure through my body. His voice going from one of jest to one of tenderness. Just the thought of it made my heart take an extra beat against my protest. He knew the words, he just wanted to make me laugh. And that smile that he gave me when I sang it back was straight-up illegal.
But it was all pretend. Two people joking to get the best shot for a photo shoot. So why does it hurt watching him butcher words for someone else? It shouldn't have mattered.
"Let's hope that secret admirer of hers isn't a singer," Susan threw in, making it crystal clear that I was potentially involved with someone.
That was the thing about girls... We could be the best wing women in the WORLD or we could be the WORST. And sometimes something would come across as just basic information to the untrained ear. A boy could be oblivious to the double meaning if he wasn't looking for it.
The key was to listen to the tone. The tone betrayed you. Made it clear to the rival girl that a guy was up for grabs even if you had called dibs.
Allie... you didn't call dibs.
I had called him "just my driver," when Susan had asked and I only had myself to blame for the consequences of that. I didn't like how torn I felt about the entire situation. I needed to clear my head. To get fresh air. To eat several pints of ice cream.
"Gonna kick him to the curb like Uggo?" Tate asked, receiving a confused look from Susan.
"I can't possibly expect you to adopt all my throw-aways," I replied as we turned the corner to my apartment building. "Thanks for the ride," I muttered as I bolted out of the car, eager to get away.
I wasn't even fully out of the car when I heard Susan ask Tate if he was hungry. "I know a great Thai place."
"Oh, I love Thaiâ"
I slammed the car door so hard that I half expected Tate to stick his head out the window and tell me to stop wrecking his cars.
But he drove away without a word and I was left feeling childish for taking out my anger on a door. Nice work, Allie. Very mature.
I chucked my purse down on the couch as soon as I was through the door to my apartment, shoes following a beat later. I was tempted to crawl under the covers and pretend the world didn't exist for a few hours but I knew better. If I allowed myself to stop moving, all I would be able to do was think and thinking was the last thing I could afford to do.
...
Two loaves of freshly baked banana bread, a deep clean of the kitchen, and fully reorganizing my closet later, left me wide awake at the wonderful hour of 2 AM. I really need to develop better sleeping habits.
Sitting down at my computer in a pair of giant sweatpants, a tank top, and my hair in a wild messy bun, I finally opened the files that Michale had sent me of the photoshoot. I was excited to see the clothes in action. It made the dream real.
Up until the moment I saw people in the clothes, it always felt like a dream. Like something that only existed in my head. Settling in with a container of banana bread, a fork to eat straight out of said container, and a fuzzy blanket, I opened the file, humming with excitement. Here we go...
I hadn't made it through one picture before I wanted to barf at the expression on my face.
I look so disgustingly smitten. Can I just destroy all the files? I can reshoot, right?
But even with my stupidly happy face that I barely recognized because it felt so foreign to my regular day life, the clothes looked... perfect. More than that. They were the best pieces I had ever designed. I swallowed, blinking back tears. "I did it."
I shoved a large fork of banana bread into my mouth, taking a moment to appreciate my work. I wasn't the best at taking a beat to celebrate a victory, but this one needed to be celebrated. Even if it was with a baked good and a small happy dance at my computer screen.
I was so proud of myself. The entire day had been worth it. I had managed to create something I was so incredibly proud of. Now if only I can have someone else modeling the clothes instead of me... I felt incredibly vulnerable being seen so happy. I hadn't smiled like that... ever.
A part of me wondered if Michale had photoshopped my face but he knew I'd kill him if he tried.
My hands itched for a distraction, to start baking brownies, a three-tiered cake, anything other than looking at the pictures. But I had to go through them. It was literally my job.
The idea of looking through thousands of pictures of me being in a couple outfit suddenly left my heart beating wildly. My breaths became uneven. I could feel myself on the verge of another panic attack.
Memories of past relationships surged to the surface of my mind, threatening to try and drown me. Breathe Allie... Breathe. I told myself.
I reached for my phone, needing to hear a familiar voice. Needing to hear someone who could ground me. I hit my speed dial, my breaths shallow and quick.
"Allie?" my older sister Delle said after the first ring, her voice tired. "You okay?"
My heart began to slow down, relaxing under my sister's concerned tone. I closed my eyes and leaned back on the couch, tucking the blanket up to my chin. "Panic attack."
Those words were the only explanation needed for why I called my sister at two in the morning.
I heard her shuffle out from under the covers as she sat up. "I'm here," she replied, alert.
"How's Misty?" I asked, keeping my voice even, feeling my body calm down with my sister's voice close to my ear. I just needed her to talk. To remind me that I wasn't alone.
Delle sighed, her tone tired. "She's been better."
I rubbed my temples. "School trouble?"
"I wish. That's easier to solve. You get a tutor when that happens. Or you help with her homework." I heard a coffee machine turn on.
"You don't have toâ"
"It's fine," Delle said interrupting me. "My shift starts in an hour anyway. Just getting an early start to my day." Delle worked as a detective. Where I had taken our family's past and run screaming from it, creating beautiful things, hoping to cover up our past in a pile of lace and silk, Delle stood strong. Determined to protect others.
I heard the clink of a coffee mug as she pulled it out of the cupboard. "Boy trouble?" I guessed. The last time I spoke to my younger sister, Misty, she had started dating a boy at her high school. And when it came to things that rubbed her the wrong way, it tended to involve math or relationships. Something me and my sisters all had in common.
"On a revenge path," Delle said with a sigh. "Caught her boyfriend cheating."
I swore, sitting up straighter on the couch. "Don't kill him okay."
Delle snorted. "I offered but she has other plans. Something involving catfishing and pranks." I heard her chuckle wickedly. "I've never been so proud."
I grinned. Delle had a dark edge to her personality. If people thought I was blunt, and rough around the edges, they really needed to meet Delle. Queen of chaos. "Don't let her do anything illegal. EVEN if you can cover it up, she shouldn't go around destroying lives just because someone burned her."
Delle grew quiet and I knew I hit a sore spot, reminding her of past decisions she couldn't erase. "I'm not an idiot," she bit back in a sharp tone.
"I know," I whispered. I thought of how much pressure sat on Delle's shoulders. How she was the one raising Misty ever since our parents died. "You are doing great. We just get a little crazy when tempted by the idea of sweet revenge."
Delle laughed quietly. "True." She paused. "Want to talk about what's going on with you?"
I hesitated. "Not really."
"Wow." Delle paused, taking a large slurp of coffee on the other end of the phone. "Must be a big problem."
"Not a problem..." I retorted. "Just trying to process through some stuff."
I forced myself to look back at the computer screen, tagging the photos that accentuated the clothes the best so they could go through editing.
Delle remained silent, waiting. She had enough practice at questioning witnesses to know that sometimes you just had to wait them out... Not that I was a witness. "Apparently I have a secret admirer," I replied to Delle's silence by starting with the easiest piece of information.
Delle started eating something and spoke past several mouth fulls. "That must have been a fun surprise," she replied dryly. "How'd he take it when you turned him down?"
I rolled my eyes. "I don't actually know who he is. That's how SECRET admirers workâ"
"Secret stalkers you mean," Delle corrected making me smile. I had said the same thing. "And what makes you think I turned him down?"
"You watched my love life go up in flames, then your love life went up in flames... a lot of times... and that made you anti-relationship because you are accident-prone."
I snorted at her blunt summary of our track record. "Accident prone?"
"Yeah, it's when you are prone to make terrible relationship decisions that look like dumpster fires."
I pursed my lips. "Thanks."
"Don't hate. It's true. What did this secret stalker give you anyway?"
"He bought me a plant and left me a letter saying he was looking forward to getting to know me better," I muttered, scrolling through the club shoot pictures, trying not to stare at Tate's fake tattoos.
She burst into laughter. "I told you! Stalker right there! That is straight-up creepy!"
"Well, I got rid of the plant. So hopefully he'll get the message that I'm not interested." I sent a quick email to Michale letting him know I loved the pictures and told him which ones were my favorite. I knew he wouldn't see it until the morning, but I wanted to write out my thoughts while the pictures were still clear in my mind.
"You know... one of these days, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world for you to try dating again."
I nearly choked on a mouth full of banana bread. "WHAT?" I coughed, trying to clear my throat. "Are you serious?" I balked after several deep breaths.
"Don't die! It was just a thought," Delle laughed.
"Who are you and what have you done with my sister!"
Delle was quiet for a moment. "Just because I have sworn to never get married doesn't mean you have to take the same pledge."
"Delle..." I approached cautiously. "What's going on? A second ago you were calling me accident prone."
She sighed. "Well... I just look at Misty dealing with this breakup and her first instinct is to destroy her ex... It made me realize what a sucky role model I am." There was a long pause. I heard her drop her dishes in the sink. "I shouldn't have vented to you so much when I got hurt. I shouldn't have verbally trashed guys so much. I think I set you up on this path. And although it's really nice not being alone on this road of anti relationships. I really didn't give you a fighting chance to any other kind of life."
I swallowed, hearing the pain in her voice. A rarity. She was normally so strong. So untouchable. It broke my heart. I laid down on the couch and stared at the ceiling. "Delle, you can't put that kind of pressure on yourself. Mom and dad were gone. You kept us together. That was way more than any of us hoped for."
"Yeah, well it wasn't enough," she answered in a clipped tone, anger radiating just below the surface.
"It was for me," I whispered. My sisters were my everything.
"Just think about it okay? Doesn't mean you need to get married. Just... try not to be like me."
I was silent for a long moment. When I was younger I wanted to be just like her. Strong, brave, unafraid. But now she was hoping I would be different. "So you want me to suck?"
Delle gave a hollow laugh. "You know what I mean. Relationships don't have to be disaster dumpster fires. Just don't pick a crappy one. Let the right guy win you over."
"He'd have to do more than just win me over. Can't date someone that you or Misty hates," I replied, turning on my side and stifling a yawn.
I heard her pick up her car keys. "Then you really may end up alone forever. We are really hard to win over."
I laughed past a yawn. "Well crap." My panic was gone. I took in several deep breaths, thankful as my body relaxed. My sister was magic. "Thanks for answering the phone."
Delle took a final large, dramatic slurp of her coffee. "Always sis. Try to get some sleep. You looking terrible affects your job. No one gives a crap if their detective looks like death."
I laughed. "Ah shut it. You're pretty too. All three of us are. That's one of the problems. It's dangerous to be pretty."
She snorted. "You've always been cocky."
I shook my head, my eyelids growing heavy. "Just honest. Nothing wrong with having a healthy self-esteem."
I could hear her mouth quirk up into a smile. "Night, Allie."
"Nightâ I mean good morning for you I guess? I don't know. Night Delle."
"That works," she said with another snort. I hung up, feeling grounded again after hearing my older sister's voice.
Living alone had its perks. You didn't have anyone questioning your habits or strange sleeping hours. It didn't matter if you played your music at full volume, vacuumed at three in the morning, or yelled at the TV when your favorite Kdrama character was doing something insane.
But waking up terrified and alone was awful. Having a panic attack when no one was there to hold you through it was unbearable. It was an isolating feeling, leaving no human to distract me from the shadows of my past.
That's why Delle and I had gotten into the habit of taking each other's calls at all hours. Sometimes you just needed to know someone was there for you. I fell asleep on the couch, phone in my hand, thoughts drifting to the two people I loved the most in the world. The two people I would burn down the world to save. My sisters.
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Thank you for reading chapter nine! I hope you are enjoying the story! Or are at least curious to see where it goes!
UPDATE DAYS - A NEW CHAPTER EVERY FRIDAY!
What do you think of Allie's sister Delle?
Would you read a Miss Congeniality meets Bachellor Romance Comedy/ Thriller where Delle is forced to go undercover on a dating show to catch a murderer?
If you would, and want to add it to your reading list, the link to the story is in the comment section here. It's called "The Detective and Her Bachelor" OUT NOW! â>
Will Susan ask Tate out? Will he say yes?
What do you think of Allie's sister Misty?
Would you read a high school comedy revenge story where Misty gets revenge on her cheating boyfriend by catfishing him?
If you would, let me know! I may or may not be working on that story right now!
Do you think Tate stands a chance of winning over Allie's sisters if he ever met them?
CHAPTER QUESTION - Do you believe in soul mates?