Black Waters (Tainted Waters #2) - India R Adams Page 0,1

feel I wasn’t cheery enough. Worrying about my well being was her priority. I couldn’t understand why she worried; I was fine.

I blinked my lamp light for my “good night” to Whit and got into bed. My down comforter made its familiar paper crackling noises. In the dark, staring at the ceiling, I thought about how Whitney’s face had lit up looking at the suspicious guy we’d met at the movie theater—Crash. On his neck, he had a tattoo saying “Life 1982,” whatever that meant. Whit seemed infatuated with the tattooed character and seemed to recognize him as the trouble she believed she needed to amp up her life—a life she considered to be lacking excitement.

Chasing Whitney around and trying to control her “need for speed” was like trying to be Superman, stopping a tornado with my bare hands. Maybe because I was without a ridiculous red superhero cape and blue tights, I was shit out of luck.

My cell vibrated on my nightstand. Let me in. I groaned. Seeing Connie and hearing more of her bitching was not high on my to-do list, but I went downstairs and opened the door.

“We need to talk,” was all she said.

I turned and walked away, silently telling her to follow, and internally cussing my regret for opening the door in the first place. The high heels that annoyed the shit out of Whit clicked on my mother’s imported Italian marble flooring. Connie always wore them because I’d told her I liked taller girls, trying to throw her off track of my true feelings for the short redhead who kept me in a constant state of starvation. I was to blame and truly had no right to find the noise irritating, but I did.

Back in bed and staring at the ceiling again, I tried to return to my thoughts of Whit, but it was impossible with Connie crawling into my bed. Next to me, she whispered with disdain, “It hurt to watch you watch them.”

I glared at her, wondering what she was babbling about.

Connie nodded. “Whit was becoming enthralled with another guy—literally under your nose—and watching it bothered you. Knowing you’ve been lying to me makes me sick. That’s why I excused myself to the restroom.” She glanced down then back to me. “And the fact that this guy looked like a shorter version of you tells me Whitney is lying too. That is why I made that rude comment.”

“I don’t look like that guy.”

“I’m not saying you could pass as twins. I’m saying that it is more proof that Whitney unconsciously wanted to be with you.”

Not missing the past tense part of her statement—wanted —I rolled to face her. “It’s not like that. Whit and I are—”

Her feminine fingers on my lips stopped me from talking. “No more lies. Okay?”

Constance was a good girl, no matter how much she came off as a stuck-up bitch. I knew this because I caused her rude, crude behavior. I was responsible and had jumped her ass at the movie theater for trying to salvage our relationship and chase away the primary threat. So unfair. So I nodded, promising no more lies. “What do you mean ‘wanted’?”

“For whatever reason, Reether, you and Whit are not together, and after what I saw tonight, you never will be.”

Open wound, insert salt.

She leaned closer with tears brimming. “I should walk away from you, Reether Jones.” She appeared so desperate, my guilt tripled. “But I can’t.” She whispered, “So I’m here to commit a pitiful act.”

Not knowing what direction this conversation was headed, I stayed quiet.

She touched my face, getting even closer to my body. “I need you, Reether. I think I need you like—like you need her.”

And came the fourth level of guilt.

“Close your eyes, Reether.”

I squinted, trying to figure Constance’s meaning.

Her shaking lips tried to smile, but it seemed as if she was scared. “Please.”

I had been indirectly cruel to Connie and felt I should try whatever she needed me to. Slowly, my eyes closed.

“Now… think of her.”

My eyes popped back open. “Connie, what the hell are you—”

“I’m helping us both.”

“How will me thinking of—Connie—where—what are you up to?”

Tears slipped from her hazel eyes. “I want you to want me.”

“I do.” And I did, but—

“Not the way you want her. So let’s find a way for us to have both.”

“Connie—”

“Close your eyes.”

“This is not going to work—”

“Use what is obtainable… like I am.”

“How is me using you while thinking of her acceptable to you?”

“To be completely