Cody chuckles lightly, and I hear one of the stools slide out. I shut my eyes, exhausted already from this conversation.
“Pour me a cup?” he asks.
“In a minute,” I say, already pissed at myself for breaking my own code. That was three words, two more than he deserves.
“I’ve got time,” he says. I pull a pair of mugs out from the cabinet and get the milk from the fridge. I turn to slide it over to Cody and realize he’s still wearing the same thing he was when I saw him last night in the driveway. The same clothes he wore to Kyla’s—I bet I can smell her on him, and just seeing the long-sleeved DC shirt is making me sick. I know I’m scowling, so I’m ready when he calls me on it.
“Wow, someone is super pissy today,” he says.
I just smile, a full-grinned fake one, teeth and all. “Why, not at all, Mr. Carmichael. I’m super peachy. I love waking up at five in the morning to have coffee in the dark, while I listen to some smug ass**le talk about the hot piece of ass he got the night before,” I bite. Cody flinches at my statement, and I’m surprised at myself, but glad I affected him. I’m filing this away to share with Jessie later, hopeful she’ll be proud.
Cody’s getting back to his feet, and on instinct, I slide back into the counter so I can see him and escape if I need to. He walks around the island to the coffee pot and pushes the flashing button.
“Coffee’s done,” he says, his smile tight. He reaches for the pot and pours himself a cup. Then he reaches over and offers to pour one for me. I slide my cup at him, flippantly. He smirks and laughs softly, shaking his head while he pours.
“So tell me, little miss perfect…does Trevor pour your coffee for you? Or do you do all the work, waiting on him hand and foot, while he’s off playing powerful-lawyer-man?” Cody says as he reaches up and takes a long, noisy sip of his coffee.
I’m instantly hot with anger. He has no right bringing Trevor into this, especially given everything he’s done for Cody, is doing for Cody.
“I wouldn’t judge Trevor. He’s saving your ass, you know?” I spit back at him, holding my mug under my lips in both hands and blowing on the steaming liquid.
Cody nods at me, setting his coffee down and reaching for the milk now. “You’re right. It’s not Trevor’s fault you’re the way you are. Seems I’ve misjudged two people. Here I thought he was the ass**le, and you were the princess. But turns out he’s a good guy and you’re just a…”
“A what?!” I say, leaning into him now, no longer afraid, and honestly ready for a fight.
He smiles with the corner of his mouth and raises his shoulders up to show his amusement. He’s getting to me and he knows it, and he’s thriving off of it.
“A what?! What am I?” I say, the quiet all gone. I’m yelling now, pushing my finger into his chest.
Cody puts his cup back down and pushes it away from him, then he leans in close to me, almost as if he’s about to kiss me, but instead stops short. “A bitch,” he says, his lips wrapping around every letter of the word—the flash of regret on his face is instantaneous, but too late all at the same time. He went too far, and I can’t stop my hand from hitting him just as hard as Jessie did the night before.
“Funny, if you think about it, Cody. You keep getting yourself slapped like this, you ought to look inside and see exactly what it is you’re doing wrong,” I say, my breathing hard and my hand stinging. “I think you should take your coffee to go.”
I leave the kitchen and leave him standing there in the dark. I’m barely around the corner when I run into Jessie’s arms. I collapse into them, the tears pouring from my face. I can hear her in my ear, and it’s the only thing keeping me attached to this world.
“Shhhhhhhh, let’s get upstairs. I heard it. I heard it all…you did good, and it’s going to be okay,” she says. I follow her back up to my bedroom and then I crawl into the shower where I sit on the floor and let the water hammer away at my back and head for the next hour.
By the time I get out of the shower and dress, Jessie is just coming back into my room. I look at her with suspicion.
“Yeah, yeah. I went to yell at him some more, so sue me,” she says, flipping her shoes off and collapsing back on my bed, her purple hair splayed in all different directions.
I can’t help but smile at her. I’ve never had a friend like her—I’ve never had a girlfriend, period—and having someone fight for me, help fight my battles? Well, it just makes the heartbreak more bearable.