Good Girl Bad Girl by D.R. Coghlan

Author:D.R. Coghlan [Coghlan, D.R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: D. R. Coghlan
Published: 2020-04-13T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

I make scones, suddenly wanting to show my care and support for my old friend. I whip some cream, unsure if she is a full time vegan. I dust, I fluff the cushions on the couch, I deliberately dress casually in grey cargo pants and an emerald t-shirt. I put my wild red hair back in a loose pony tail. Moving to the kitchen, I fill the kettle, boil it, prime the coffee machine Then I straighten the dining setting, review it, nudge one chair out of line to create an imperfection. Finally, I sit on the floor and play with the cats until I hear a knock at the door.

When I open the door, long seconds tick by as we lock eyes, and I feel like adult Harper is meeting adult Gwen for the first time. There’s anguish in her eyes, I wonder what’s in mine. I smile and step aside. “Hey, thanks for coming.”

She nods. “Thanks,” and steps past me, looking about. “Nice home.” She stoops as Nougat pads towards her. My precious feline turns on the charm and is soon firmly ensconced in Gwen’s arms, her little motor purring away as her brother looks on from a distance.

“Ah, this is Nougat, or Nougy and that dark fella over there is Fudge. You can tell which one is more social.”

“Ha, Nougat and Fudge, I like that.”

The conversation is light and chatty while I make coffee and bring everything to the table. “I made scones, they’re gluten free. Not sure if you eat cream, but the strawberry jam is super yummy. It’s from a local market.”

“Wow, that sounds great. Yeah, I’m good with cream. I’m mostly vegan, but … hey, cream …” she shrugs and smiles.

We’ve had our fill of scones and I’m coming back to the table with our second cup of coffee when Gwen raises Friday night. “So, what … what happened? What did I say that upset you, and please don’t say it was nothing? I’m sorry, I didn’t know …”

I sit, and nod slightly in response, my lips pressed firmly together as I think through her question. “Umm, I feel I need to apologise. I … I … it’s hard to explain.” I’m stirring my coffee, trying to get my words right. “You know, you meant an awful lot to me, growing up. You were never the ‘dirt bag next door’ to me. I never thought of you like that. You were amazing. I wanted to be you. I was just so … besotted with you. And when you went, I was devastated.” I look up at her. Her face is serious, her eyes large and round. She has beautiful eyes, so deep, so rich. “I’ve realised, since Friday night, that I was still holding onto twelve-year-old Harper’s feelings. When I saw you, it was through young Harper’s perception. What you said, hurt those feelings.”

“I’m sorry, I was insensitive.”

“No, no, you were just explaining things from your perspective. I mean, just because I had this huge crush on you … you were so much older, and I was just a kid.

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