HIM by Brittney Cohen-Schlesinger Page B

Jensen’s bandana.  But it was dry.
                  “Jensen and I were running and I fell on a rock,” I told her.
                  “Did you trip?”
                  “He bumped into me.”
                  “On purpose?”
                  “He was only fooling around.  It’s not even like he did it hard or anything,” I chuckled.  The way I’d explained the situation made it seem as though I was with an abuser.  I truthfully wasn’t.  Jensen was actually very gentle.
                  “I’m sure,” she muttered, flipping through a magazine.  “How was the run besides the fall?”
                  “Enjoyable,” I grinned, heading to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of iced cold water.
                  “I bet,” Tory beamed.  “Did he kiss you?”
                  “No,” I nearly choked on my drink.  And even if we had Tory didn’t need to know about that.
                  “Well I think it’s so adorable how you two are running together now.  It’s been so long since I’ve seen you run.”
                  “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen me do anything .”  I sat down on the couch in the living room, taking off my sneakers.  I was sweating an uncomfortable amount.  A long, hot shower was what I was craving now.
                  “When are you seeing each other again?”
                  “Tonight.”
                  “Wow, you’ve been seeing him a lot lately,” she smirked.  We’d seen each other every day during the past week – watching movies, going out to eat, grabbing a cup of coffee, going to bookstores to hang out – he’d read so many books – and now running.  “Do you know what you’re going to do?”
                  “I have no clue,” I sighed, shutting my eyes for a moment.  I’d been so tired lately; all I kept thinking about was Jensen . . . and I was losing sleep over it.  Not that I minded too much.  Focusing on Jensen took my focus away from having nightmares about the man whose name I never spoke.
                  “I knew you’d make a cute couple.”  I was beaming, silently.  The doorbell rang quickly two times in a row.  “I’ll get it!” Tory sang as she made her way over to the foyer opening the door.  “Hey!  Come on in.”
    I heard two sets of heels clacking against the marble tile.  “Hey, Avalon,” greeted Lucy in her thick New Jersey dialect.  Lucy was a curvy girl with a dark complexion and large light brown eyes.  They complimented her curly auburn hair, which was in a low ponytail at the nape of her neck. Out of the three girls in the Drunken Trio she was the only one I didn’t mind being around.
    “Hi,” I responded.  “What’s up?”
    “Tory invited me to go shopping with her.  Want to join us?”  Lucy had made this offer to me time and time again.  Not once had I ever agreed to go.  By now it was out of habit she asked.  Tory was the same way.
    I thought about it for a moment.  I would surprise them . . . and myself.  “Sure, I’d like that.”  Both Tory and Lucy had an expression that read what the hell is going on?   Especially Tory who was now beaming from ear to ear.  “Mind if I shower real quick?  I won’t need more than fifteen minutes to get ready.”
    “Damn,” Lucy laughed.  “The last time it took me fifteen minutes to get ready I was a baby.  And my mama dressed me.”  Lucy was exactly like Tory – took nearly an hour every morning to put her face on followed by an extra hour and a half to throw on a dress.
    Tory chuckled.  I forced a little laugh.  “We’ll be waiting in the cab, Ava,” Tory said.  “Make sure to bring an umbrella.  I heard it might drizzle.”  She and Lucy made their exit, leaving me alone in the house.  I quickly took a steamy shower, wishing