VIOLENT DELIGHTS | Rosalie Hale

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

JUST THE GIRL

PALE SILVER LIGHT GREETED ME the next afternoon when I woke, and for the first time in a long time, my hangover hurt. A lot. I felt like I'd been run over, rolling over on the mattress and taking the layers of quilts with me. I might have laid there with my eyes stubbornly shut for another hour maybe, restlessly burrowing in deeper into the dark, the warmth. But I did not dream again. I had nothing to distract me from the dull thudding in my skull.

Eventually, I forced myself out. My throat was sandpaper and I needed to pee really bad. I trudged sleepily through Adam's cabin, getting the fire started again. I drank milk straight from the carton while I made myself the now standard double eggs and double bacon in the same pan. Brunch of champions. I ate straight from the pan, watching cartoons on the PBS kids channel. I was getting maybe a little too invested in Dragon Tales.

I felt good that Sunday, despite my hangover. I felt... me. Like for the first time my brain wasn't an internal whirlwind, and I could just be present, watching some kids bounce on clouds with their dragon friends. I knew why I felt good. I knew what I'd been dreaming about, what I'd tried so desperately to return to.

Whenever I close my eyes for long enough, I picture Leah Clearwater's smile lines and that look she'd give me before a dry, sarcastic answer. And when my heart fluttered, I didn't try to fight it. I didn't know how something so tiny could be so liberating, but it really was. I had a crush on a girl, and I could openly admit that to myself. Leah Clearwater was hot. And just because I thought that did not mean I was taking anything away from Adam. My feelings for her are just as valid as they were for him. I had to drill that into my head a little.

Maybe I could ask her to the movies. Not as a date, but just to see her again. She did say she liked girls too, right? The panic filled me. What if I'd completely read that wrong? What had she said in the diner? Something about Sam. Fuck. Were we flirting? What's the difference between flirting with a girl and the usual estrogen rush hanging out with a friend? Oh my god.

The phone rings. I blink out of my spiral. I expect Charlie again, probably with an update about Bella. "Hello?"

"Hey." Leah Clearwater stretched the word out, sounding way too cool. I was helpless at once, physically swooning as I slipped half-off the couch. Get a hold of yourself. This was already so different. Why was this so different? "Sooo... guess who had to survive a totally embarrassing conversation with Chief Swan just to get your number this morning?"

I laugh, maybe a little too brightly. "Oh no. What did he do?"

"Oh no, it wasn't just him, it was my Dad too. You should've seen their faces when I told them we hung out yesterday, it was like ten Christmases happened all at once." She complained, and I laugh more with her. "I didn't know you had your own line, I told Charlie I was thinking of calling you up and he gave me this number."

"No, I have my own house—well, cabin. It's Adam's." I explain and she says a soft 'ah' in response. "The Wexlers left it to me when they skipped town, I've tried to keep fixing it up but it's kinda slow progress on my own."

"Is that what's on the agenda for today?" Leah asks. "I'm pretty good with a hammer."

"As good as you are with charcoal?" I can't help but to tease her. She scoffs, and I giggle. "You don't have to do that, it's fine. I'm kinda waiting for better weather before I keep working on the outside anyway."

"You do realize we live in literally the shittiest weather in America, right?" She snarks back. "Like, year-round."

"Ugh, I know, do you know how hard it is to keep firewood dry here?" I complain and she laughs.