“What did Josh want?” Clarissa asks, pulling me by the hand into the kitchen. She stops at the counter with a bunch of banana, a frown crawls to her lips. “What did he say?”

I burst into humourless laughter, shaking my head as her small frame takes a seat on the counter, it took her eight days to ask. She pouts while squinting, I stick my tongue out and whip my long ponytail, causing her to do the same. A laugh escapes me as the tip of her hair brushes my face, she has long hair but it doesn’t come close to mine. I am the queen of this long hair game but she takes the crown once straightness is involved.

If I didn’t know better, I would have thought she never saw me and Josh because he was gone before her return. But she did, I know, those eyes see everything. The terse silence throughout the ride home confirmed my suspicions. Since she didn’t bother to ask, I never mentioned it, I am better off without a reminder of him and his callous brother.

By now, they should have seen that post. Josh spends a lot of his time on the streets of Instagram, reposting his funny TikTok videos. Bee’s post might have helped increase his fanbase, if it didn’t, his revealed net worth will do the trick. I doubt Brandon will spare any second on gossip, he exists only to please himself and push anyone who cares away.

Social media isn’t his cup of coffee and it hasn’t been mine in a while and that has to be the best decision I made in the last three weeks. The peace of mind that comes with the solitude is addictive, having few friends, no one notices your online absence. Student body business is always communicated via emails, we still have to conduct the elections.

I suck in my lip and smoothen the imaginary creases on the T-shirt coming to rest above my knees. I may not be talking to him but I am allowed to put on my husband’s shirt.

Her fingers snap in front of my face, I mutter an apology and her arms fold on her chest. She reiterates her question, I nod. “He thinks I made a mistake by marrying Brandon.”

I follow behind as she walks around the counter to retrieve the box of leftover doughnut she had for breakfast. On opening the box, she stretches it to me. Bile rises to my throat at the strong aroma that filters into my nose, I dry heave and clamp a hand over my mouth which doesn’t water at the sight of the chocolate glazed doughnut with sprinkles.

My stomach churns, I gulp down the glass of orange juice she offers me and spit it out almost immediately, smacking my lips at the acrid taste lingering on my tongue. A glass of warm water later, I let out a sigh and frown at the floor, eyeing the mess I made like it will explain my sudden aversion for oranges and doughnuts. I love glazed doughnuts.

“Are you okay?”

Lifting my head to Clarissa, I nod and apologise for the wet dots I created all over her shirt. “My period,” I say when she continues staring with a funny smile. I am usually extra sensitive, an emotional wreck and a picky eater during that time of the month but my stomach has never rebelled against my sugary choices. “I bleed again next week.”

Disbelief clouds her features, I shrug when she doesn’t laugh at the joke. We refer to our period as an imposed bleeding and I know my body more than she ever will. Whatever her overimaginative brain is telling her isn’t the case, it’s the premenstrual hormones.

“Okay,” she says and I roll my eyes.

We share a glance and my eyes dart to the bunch, she shakes her head but my hand is already reaching for a piece. Dumbstruck by the speed with which I devour the banana, she inches slowly towards me with her mouth open and smacks the back of my head. Wearing a scowl like it is her identity, her eyes dare me to retaliate and I grit my teeth.

The banana is for practice but I took only one.

“What do you think?” My head tilts to her, her eyes narrow to slits and I pout. “Joshua.” I chuckle at her mention of his full name, she claims doing that will strip off some of her fondness for him. As for me, I call him whatever I want. “Why do you think he said that?”

The banana peel enters the dustbin in one throw, she lifts her palm, I hit it in a high five and we giggle. We strut into the room with the bunch in her hand and plop on the bed

“I think Josh likes me and he can’t deal with the fact I am married to his brother. His ego is bruised.” Putting my ponytail into a bun atop my head, I cross my legs and smile at her as my shoulders deflate and she rubs my knees. “I think he is jealous, I don’t like it.”

Clarissa’s lips press into a thin line in that familiar way it does when she is thinking. “I don’t know.” My eyes fall on the puppy sewn into her shirt, I wink at it. “I find it odd that they are brothers who live in the same city and you didn’t know until... You know?”

Her eyes roam my face, I dodge her gaze to fiddle with the hem of Brandon’s shirt. A smile makes its way to my lips at the silly thought that infiltrates my mind. I should listen to that voice in my head, wear all his clothes and return them without washing.

“Don’t you find it odd?” I shrug, it is odd but I can’t do anything. “Doesn’t it bother you?”

These questions used to plague me, I have spent minutes staring blindly at the ceiling as if it possesses the answers but I am done with that. I am done with a lot of things.

“It does but I don’t care to know.”

We sit in silence, our knees touch when she edges closer to me to palm my face. “Are you sure you are okay?” I nod, I am better than I have been in weeks. She sighs. “El.”

Annoyed by her concern, I mutter through gritted teeth, “I’m fine.” She needs to stop acting like I am a fragile doll, my husband is not speaking to me, that’s all. An emotion flashes across her face, I say, “Sorry.” She hisses, I poke her cheek. “For real, I’m fine.”

The noncommittal nod she sends my way has me pouting. “Has he reached out to you?”

Staring at her like a deer caught in headlights, I sink my teeth into my lip and offer her a smile which only ends up as a grimace. I don’t know how to tell her I haven’t been active on any of my social media pages, that I blocked him. Even his email addresses.

“No,” I reply.

She jerks back, her nose scrunches. “No?” My head moves left and right slowly, I gulp. “Are you sure?” I nod. “You are barely on your phone these days, how will you know?”

As my eyes raise to meet hers, I realise this is a battle I won’t win so I don’t bother to try. She cares, I know that but I can’t bring myself to care about the situation anymore.

Plus, it doesn’t matter, there is no way he can reach me except he miraculously appears in front of us and I am sure he will turn the chance down if it was offered to him. He made it clear he wanted to be away from me, away from our marriage without trying.

The hand on my shoulder shakes me from my trance, my lips curl into a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. Clarissa pulls me in for a hug and I squeeze her tight as her hands trace circles on my lower back. I sniff. I like it when she does that, Ma does it too.

Surprisingly, my eyes are dry, I don’t shed a tear. I haven’t cried since I blocked him, as if hitting that block button turned off my feelings for him. I don’t feel. I don’t care. I don’t want to. I am merely floating, taking each day at a time, enjoying this Clarissa induced happiness and living in my bubble of numbness. The goal is different now: study, conduct or help out in the next student body elections, then graduate. No more sulking.

When she pulls away, I volunteer an answer though I know she won’t ask even if she is dying, “I don’t think he has and I don’t want to be disappointed if he hasn’t.” Her smile is weak, I pinch her cheeks and she chuckles. “You should be glad I’m taking your advice.” The smile she offers me can light up the room, my lips pucker. “No more social media.”

I am rewarded with a thumbs up but I am not done talking, maybe those hormones are messing with me, still, she needs to hear it. “You feel like sunlight so I am staying close to you.”

“Girl,” she starts, fanning her face with her hand. “Do you want me to cry? Cos I will if you keep up with this.” She pulls me in for a brief hug, her hand lingers on my shoulders.

“You feel like sunlight too.” Crossing my arms on my chest to give her the peace sign, my head bobs. She rolls her eyes, I pout. “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now but in the end, everything will be alright.” Since I am a sap who believes in happy endings, I nod my agreement. “In a couple of weeks, we will laugh at this over a big bowl of ice-cream and cakes while lounging in the sexiest lingerie we paid for with your black card.”

Laughter escapes my lips, Clarissa winks and I throw my head back. This girl. She licks her lips and cracks her knuckles in a supposed gangster style. I scoff. Between both of us, we can’t hurt a fly, the most we can do is fight with our mouths but she is better at it.

“Alright, bitch, playtime is over,” she says in a voice eerily similar to Riley Freeman, I shake my head. This is what happens when I let her binge watch Boondocks for the umpteenth time. “Let’s get to...” she trails off to pick a banana. Her mouth closes over the tip, she lets out a series of moans then fake gags. “You know what time it is, baby girl.”

I facepalm and her resounding laughter has a corner of my lips twitching. This is what I get for telling her about that one time. One time that isn’t my fault, still, I won’t hear the end of it. They don’t teach these things, maybe they do but I wasn’t keen on learning.

“Are you ready?”

Rolling my eyes, I pick a banana and mimic her movement, doing my best not to grip the end too tight. She peels it slowly, too slowly, sensually, I clear my throat and look away when our eyes meet over the banana. Shifting to create some distance between us, I peel it off but with less elegance, after all, Brandon’s dick doesn’t have a sheath.

She recites instructions off her head, I nod along, bringing the tip close to my mouth. On her word, I swallow, well, not swallow but I put half the length into my mouth. She lifts a hand, gesturing for me to take in more but I shake my head as my eyes water. No way.

The awkwardness dissipates as our lesson progresses. My eyes sting, spit drips from the side of my mouth while she remains composed, laughing at me. At least I don’t puke on the blue sheets and I make sure to mention that between trying to suck and not gag.

Her phone pings right as she’s about to reply, the banana disappears into her mouth. I gasp, staring at the piece in my hand in disbelief and she winks. How did she do that?

“There’s nothing there,” she says. I look up with a mouthful of banana, she shrugs. “The blog post, it’s no longer there.” Oh. I flash her a smile and start munching on the banana the right way, I’m not sure how to feel about the information she gladly dropped on me. She chuckles. “They issued an apology to you, do you want to see?” I shake my head, never did I think such a day will come. “Do you think he has something to do with it?”

I make sure to finish at least half of the banana before my shoulders roll in a shrug. He doesn’t care what goes on with me, I don’t care about him either. If he wants, he can get lost between the legs of those women, that is if he hasn’t already. The knots in my belly tighten, I snicker and sink my teeth into my lip. I don’t care what he does with himself.

“I think he has something to do with it, they never apologise,” she continues like I asked her and I don’t bother to stop my eyes from rolling. “For real, you don’t want to know?”

The growl that escapes me has her hands up in a hurry and a sheepish smile on her lips. Whose side is she on? First, she says he needs time to come around, next, she’s throwing questions about him to my face. I groan. She needs to pick a side and it better be mine.

I attempt to pull her phone from her grasp but she has it in a death-like grip. Threading my fingers into my hair, I massage my scalp, slowly, sensually until the urge to scream subsides. We are not even halfway done with our tutorials. I don’t know the point of it but she insisted and I didn’t resist, I don’t have the willpower to resist much these days.

“It’s almost like it never happened.” Yeah, whatever. Maybe he threatened to sue their sorry ass if they didn’t take the shitty post down but who cares? Can we move on from that now? I am tired of hearing his name. “Girl, you are getting popular,” she continues with her head bent over her phone, not sparing me a single glance. “El, I’m serious.”

My breath comes out in rasps, I love this girl but she can be infuriating. I don’t care.

“Check your IG, people are following you.” I grunt, she needs to stop talking. “I know this isn’t how you hoped to start but think about it.” Shaking my head to stop her from going into one of her uplifting talks, there is nothing positive about this situation. They took the post down but so many people have seen it, it doesn’t change what they think about me.

She doesn’t get a chance to say another word. “I don’t want to think about anything.”

Stubborn as always she says, “Fine, then I will think for you until you decide to use that God-given brain of yours.” Stunned into silence by her outburst, I blink and stare at her morosely and she manages a smile. “Hear me out, okay?” My head bobs of its accord, her laughter thaws the ice in my heart. “El, you can use this publicity for your business.”

The wheels in my head spin, I fight the smile trying to make an appearance. If I wasn’t so stuck up on him, I might have thought of this myself. “Loan dolphin.” I nod with more enthusiasm. “Think about it, how this will help and when you are up for it, we will talk.”

Guilt stabs my chest, I look down at my legs. “Thank you, I’ll think about it. I promise.”
I don’t get any response from her, she jumps off the bed, parts the curtain to take a peek at the outside world. Her voice lowers, “There’s no one there. I think it’s safe to go out.”

Though we have no plans of stepping out, my chest falls, I let out a breath and we giggle.

Since the blog post, people have been trying to talk to us—me, trying being the keyword because Clarissa manages to scare them off. But it hasn’t deterred them, the offers never stop rolling in. They want interviews. Moving forward, for the success of my business, I can grant them a few, talk about the plans I have for Loan dolphin instead. No men talk.

Running my fingers through my face, I sigh. I don’t get their obsession or need to have me in their studio for a talk which I know will solely revolve around Brandon. What is so interesting about being his short term fling like they labelled me? I shake my head and let out a dry laugh. With all their spying skills, they are yet to find out we are married.

My eyes dart to Clarissa leaning on the wall with her hands akimbo and a careful smile on her face. I pout. She has been doing all the driving, I barely step out and if I have to, I never stay back for small talks. It is fun to hear her ordeal, the disappointment and surprise on the paparazzi face whenever the door opens to reveal her instead of me.

Their excitement wore off pretty quick, now, I know why, they have moved on to their next prey. A particular guy still wants an audience, a lanky dude who looks ready to pass out. I have no idea how he got my number but I am glad to know the coast is clear.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey yourself,” I reply.

The bed dips with her weight, she mimics my position and places a pillow between us. “Do you know they apologised a week ago?” she asks and I straighten up. If it’s a week ago, that means the post was taken down the same day. Knowing that doesn’t change how I feel, I shrug and she shakes her head. “Do you also know two plus two is four?”

Two plus two? I count in my head, then let out a long hiss. Of course, it is four. I scowl, as usual, it doesn’t affect her, instead, I get a cheeky grin and her lips pucker into a pout.

“I know what you are trying to do,” I say. But I am as clueless as a lady pointing the TV remote at the microwave. “And it’s not working.” Her smile grows wide. “Quit it.”

“What am I trying to do?” she asks. My chin raises. “When do you intend to go home?”

“Are you asking me to leave?”

Folding my arms, I let our eyes battle until she squirms under my gaze. A frown mars my face, she lets out a sigh and tries to reach for me but I shrug her hands off. “Never.” Her lips curve into a smile. “How dare I? You know you are the cream to my coffee.”

My shoulders rack with laughter, I swat her hands from my cheeks. Cream to her coffee indeed. She hates coffee, more than I do, she won’t come close to it except coerced.

“Whatever, bestie.”

~~~

Some readers have asked for Brandon's POV so I'm putting it out here. Brandon doesn't get a POV in this book. I have another book dedicated to his POV with two chapters from this story rewritten in his POV.

Thank you for reading! Happy Sunday!