Read Online Tangled Thoughts by Cara Bertrand - Free Book Online

believed it. I envied her confidence. “You know,” she added, giving the living room again an appraising eye. “For all you want to do all our projects on antiques, this place doesn’t
look
like it’s full of old things. Except for that.” She pointed at my armoire, which did happen to be the oldest piece in the apartment, though not the oldest I owned. “And that.” She indicated the early 1900s copy of
Modern Poetry
on one of the end tables.
    â€œOh, God,” Amy said. She set her mug of tea on the coffee table rather dramatically and covered her ears. “Please don’t get her going.”
    â€œ
You
can go any time, you know.” She stuck her tongue out at me and made no moves to leave. “They’re not all strictly antiques,” I told Serena, “though you’re right, that one
is
old. It’s French, early 1800s.” It was beautiful and gleaming, with a color so deep it was almost black.
    â€œIt cost more than a car,” Amy interjected and Serena’s eyes went a little wide.
    â€œIt didn’t,” I said, but after a look from Amy, I conceded, “it didn’t cost more than a new”—Amy narrowed her eyes—“
most
new cars. But anyway, the rest of the living room is mostly fifties. Because antique couches aren’t always comfortable or practical.”
    â€œBecause white is practical?” Serena slid her fingers over the creamy leather.
    â€œIt washes we—” I started to say before I recognized she was grinning at me and Amy couldn’t stifle a giggle. “Oh, the two of you! Jesus. I should
not
have introduced you. Leave my furniture alone.”
    â€œAw,” Serena soothed. “Don’t get upset.”
    â€œWe kid because we care, Lane.” Amy yawned and stretched, but still made no moves to get up even while Serena was packing her things.
    â€œIt’s cute,” Serena continued. “I like your…well, it’s more than a hobby.”
    â€œYeah,” I said. “It is.”
    â€œHow did you even get into it?”
    â€œSkills of a misspent youth,” Amy piped in. “This is what happens when you don’t go to school.”
    â€œI went to school.” I stood, ready to see Serena out, but she was looking slightly confused. “You know about my aunt, and how we traveled a lot. She always liked to go to antique stores, flea markets, things like that, for inspiration. Salvage yards too. I’ve seen so many rusted out and cool old cars, I should have taken up photography. Anyway, I liked them too, the shops, with all the old pretty things. I had tutors and school work goes a lot faster when you’re the
only
student.”
    â€œSo you spent your free time studying antiques?”
    â€œSome of it, yeah. It’s hard to have friends when you’re constantly on the move…but everywhere we went, there were new antique stores.”
    Serena threw her bag over her shoulder, saying, “You know, now that I see this place and everything…I get you more. That’s a compliment,” she added quickly. “You’re interesting. I get why your homework is always done early. I get why”—she cut her eyes to a still-lounging Amy—“what did you call him again?”
    â€œH.O.T.?”
    â€œYeah,” Serena said. “I get why Mr. H.O.T is into you, too.”
    â€œHe’s not—” I started, but Amy made a noise in the back of her throat, and Serena cut me off before I could say anything more.
    â€œHe is.” I kept my mouth closed, because that twist in my stomach was rolling again, and I was half hoping, half hating that what she said might be true. “I get it,” she repeated. “And thanks for letting me come over. I get why you don’t invite people here too.”
    She gave me a quick hug as we said goodbye, and I closed the door behind her feeling like