Chapter 27: Winnifred "Did you have sex with Luke?" "Why is that your first question, Cearra?" I asked her on the phone while I dragged my duffel bag up the stairs. Luke had just dropped me off at home and I was already on the phone with Cearra. "Why isn't it yours?" her voice blared out through my headphones, "If a romantic weekend by the lake isn't enough for you to do some healthy banging, then I don't know what is." "Healthy?" "Everyone's got to clean their pipes. If I were you, I wouldn't even need that cabin. I'd do it in a bush for Luke f*cking-but-you-haven't-f*cked-him-yet Dawson." We had a hot shower together, but it didn't lead to a home run. "I am so scarred by this conversation," I said. Luke and I have not been dating for that long. The peer pressure was starting to mount. No, I haven't slept with him. Yes, I like him. Yes, we are dating and getting to know each other better, but... I'm. Not. Ready. For. That. It's my decision and I'll be the one living with it. Unfortunately, I know too many people who regret sleeping with someone too early. I have seen my own sister devastated after a guy she loved broke up with her and called her a sl**. It's a real problem and it's not often talked about. Why? Because people don't want to talk about that side of things. All we see in movies, music and shows are the exact opposite. Am I sleeping with someone because I want to or because others expect it of me? I know that it will be worth the wait. And if he's not willing to wait? Then he isn't worth it. Call me a prude or call me a tease. I really don't care. "I've told you before that I see myself married to your boyfriend, right?" Cearra asked innocently, and I could hear her younger siblings screaming in the background. "Yes. Married with three kids and a do-" "Dog named Claude," she finished, "Great, just wanted to make sure we cleared the air on that one." "That's not weird at all." I said sarcastically, but also smiling. I dropped the duffel bag in my room and collapsed happily on my bed. This bed was the only thing I missed during my weekend at the lake house. "Yeah, it isn't weird if I told you about it already," Cearra cast that point aside, "Especially since that fantasy existed long before I knew you. It's one of many that sometimes overlaps into my Jimin affair. Who is Austin seeing by the way?" "Who are you seeing? We haven't talked about you," I flipped the question onto her. "I freckle." "What do you mean?" "Flings," she said, "I date for a while and then they disappear, like freckles in winter." "How poetic of you." "I had to redeem myself." ** It wasn't long after speaking with Cearra, that I went downstairs for food. I hadn't eaten anything since the sandwiches in Luke's car. Which was only thirty minutes ago, but still. Flora intercepted me as soon as I entered the kitchen. "I wouldn't get food if I were you," she looked me up and down, "Think of the scale." Since when could Flora make "food" sound like a bad word? She was by the kitchen sink, drinking water. "Doesn't it get old, trying to break me down?" I side-stepped her and opened the fridge, "You'll eventually realize that your verbal abuse doesn't affect me and your unhealthy relationship with food will affect you. Take it from me, or any nutritionist." I was surprised by my own response. It seems like a weekend away from here made me realize what a toxic environment I live in. Flora put her glass down, as surprised as I was with my response. A healthy dose of Luke's honesty had gotten into my system. He's apologetically honest and doesn't give a f*ck about the repercussions. While I still don't understand how he gets away with it, I've temporarily adopted 5% percent of his style. I put tomato, cheese and butter on the counter and opened the bread box. "What is that?!" I exclaimed, staring at a pound of weed. It was wrapped in plastic, sitting where the bread should be. Flora waved it off, "Mom's new boyfriend asked if he could leave it here-" "Mom's new boyfriend is a dealer?!" "You're so immature. You don't need to be a dealer to have drugs," she rolled her eyes at me. "You do if it's a pound," I said. The doorbell rang and I slammed the bread box shut faster than lightning. ** "Nicole?" I was surprised to see Nicole standing outside my door. She was wearing a sleek jumpsuit with a deep V-neck and strappy stilettos. She wore a chunky gold necklace and bangles around her wrist. "The Dawson house is across the street," I pointed to it helpfully. Maybe she'd gotten geographically confused and turned the wrong way. Nicole was Charlotte's best friend and I've only met her a couple times. I knew she was a freshman in college, but, like Charlotte, was always visiting home. "I saw Luke leave your house so I figured you must be here. Charlotte mentioned that you were the next-door-neighbor-turned-girl-friend." Is that what I am? "OK," I said, wondering what she was doing here. Did she want some weed? We have plenty of that. "How are you feeling?" she asked me with a concerned expression, "That cat incident was horrific, and it was nice of you to organize a burial for..." "Roger." "Well it turns out the cat is female and named Winnifred," Nicole said, "I met the owner this weekend." "You found the owner?" I asked, still lingering on the news that Roger was a girl. How did we miss that? "She was putting up missing posters around the neighborhood," Nicole explained, "It's so sad. She lives on number 34. I wanted to let you know, since you could bring her closure." "Oh, thank you," I nodded. Nicole was right; the owner had a right to know what happened. Nicole looked like she was about to leave, but then asked, "Are you doing ok? It's beyond words, but let us know if there's anything we can help with. Sometimes, events like these can cause trauma. I hope you or Luke haven't felt that." I tried not to think of the moment I saw the blood on my bedroom floor and Art's sweater hanging from my doorknob. It could've been paint, but the monster who did this, did it with animal blood. Trauma. "Thanks Nicole, that's nice of you." It was. It was a kind gesture to let me know about Roger's owner. Maybe I could find out more about who did this. "No need to thank me. The Dawson's are like family to me," she squeezed my hand comfortingly and then waved goodbye. It was only when she left that I realized how much I didn't want to show up at the owner's home by myself. I dreaded breaking the news that her cat was dead. And I also feared being accused of something I didn't do. The owner would want answers; answers that I don't have. As Nicole walked away, I looked across the street. The other car must have arrived home by now, with Jake and Annika inside. Would it be weird to ask if we can all get back in that car and drive back to the lake house? I felt a knot in the pit of my stomach. Something told me that our happy time together would be threatened. ** ~Third person POV~ A convertible sped round the corner and skidded to a momentary halt by the sidewalk. The window rolled down and Chad yelled from the driver seat, "GET IN! GET IN!" His new car had no handles but the butterfly doors opened quickly. Austin came sprinting down his front lawn, holding his shirt in his hand. He jumped over his fence and into the car. "Go! Go!" Austin exclaimed, one arm through the t-shirt. "You don't have to tell me twice," Chad muttered and hit his foot on the gas, "Let's see what this baby can do." The needle on the speedometer rapidly moved clockwise as the car sped through the streets, breaking most traffic codes. Austin was trying to ring Luke from the car, "We need to get hold of Luke!" No answer. "Try calling Millie!"