Key To Your Heart

13

Roseanne

Lisa doesn't come back.

Some girls might take offense. But me? With her? I'm just amused.

The woman might be able to find a clit with spine-tingling accuracy, but I'd be willing to bet she's out there somewhere tugging on her hair and overthinking the hell out of things. It's charming. Refreshing. I decide I'll sit back and watch her freak out for a while. If what she said about me, about wanting me, is true, then I don't need to pile on. If I know Lisa-and annoyingly, I do-she's driving herself crazy right now while trying look like she has it all together.

One thing I've always admired about her is her sense of integrity. She's been a faithful friend to my brother, but also a faithful (if begrudging) friend to me in a lot of ways. She wouldn't take muddying those waters lightly.

Despite her aloof exterior, she's a worrier. And I don't want to add to her worries. I just want... well, I want more orgasms on her desk.

So, at lunch, I head back to my shitty bunkhouse to make myself a sandwich and say hi to the mouse that I'm fairly certain has moved in with me. My mood is only buoyed by the fact my cramps have all but evaporated.

First, I change my panties. Then I pull out the turkey and bread. Once I make my sandwich, I toss a few crust pieces on the floor for the mouse, deciding I should pick a name for her, and then head down to my dock for lunch with a view.

I only get through about half when my phone rings from inside my purse. When I put my sandwich on my lap to answer, my turkey on rye falls into the lake. As it sinks, I stare at it sullenly.

Only at this time of the month could I cry over a lost sandwich. I just upended my life and mostly walked away with a smile. That night on the dock with Lisa was the only time I cracked.

But that sandwich was really good. And I'm so hungry.

I don't recognize the number on the screen. Wondering if it might be a contractor, I answer and try not to sound pissy.

"Hello?"

"Rosie?"

I look down at the screen again, brows furrowing. "Lucy?"

"Yeah." She sighs the word like she's exhausted.

"What's wrong? Where are you?"

I'm already standing. Worried.

Lucy drops her voice to a whisper. "I got in trouble at school." I hear rustling against the receiver, like she's holding a hand up to block the sound. "I think the school called Lisa. But she's just so uptight sometimes. And I just... Can you come?"

"Be there in ten."

I hear her sigh of relief.

"But, Lucy?"

"Yeah?"

"Lisa might seem uptight to you, but you gotta know that underneath all that, she's torturing herself over how to make everything right for you. With her, it's all in the actions."

"You think so?" There's so much hope in her voice.

Even though she can't see me, I nod as I head toward my car. "I know so."

* * *

If I thought waiting for pickup outside was a blast from the past, walking through the halls of my old junior high school is a full immersion in nostalgia.

Extreme nostalgia. A nonconsensual walk down memory lane. I liked school, but I preferred socializing. None of my best memories are here. Though I do spy the exact locker that witnessed my very first kiss.