by Jay McLean
There is no party, but I don’t bother telling her that. “Do you want me to pick him up?”
“No,” she says quickly. “I want him here. Is it okay if you come over? Just until he falls asleep. I’m sorry if I’m ruining your plans.”
I had no plans, but again, I don’t tell her that. “I’ll be there soon.”
I knock on her front door because I don’t know if I’m welcome to use her bedroom door anymore—if it’s now reserved for the one and only Cooper Kennedy.
She seems surprised that it’s me when she answers the door. “Why are you knocking here?”
I shrug, feeling stupid. “How’s he doing?”
“He’s wide awake, throwing pillows and jumping on the bed.”
I cringe. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
I make my way down to her room while she follows behind. I take off my jacket, throw it on her couch. Habit.
“Pukas!” Lachlan shouts. “Are you here for one minute?
“You know you’re not allowed to jump on beds,” I tell him.
He continues jumping. “Lane said I could.”
I face Lane.
“I said he could do it once,” she defends.
I grab Lachlan by the waist and effortlessly slam him down to the bed. He finds this hilarious. Using my sternest voice, I say, “Time to sleep.”
“Yes, sir,” he giggles, saluting me.
I slip off my shoes, get under the covers with him.
“I’ll be back,” Lane says, taking her phone from the nightstand and going upstairs.
“I like Lane’s bed,” Lachlan whispers through a yawn. “It’s constable.”
“Comfortable.”
“Have you slept in Lane’s bed?” he asks.
I really wish I wasn’t in bed with my six-year-old brother while he forces the images and memories of the last time I was here into my mind.
“Luke? Have you?”
I nod.
He giggles. “Did you sex?”
My eyes widen. “What is with you and sex? Go. To. Sleep!”
“I can’t,” he whispers.
“Why not?”
He shrugs. “Can you sing the Prestons in the Bed song for me like Mommy used to do for you guys?”
I rear back, look him in the eyes. “How do you know about that song?”
“Laney told me. We talked about Mommy all day.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Laney said Mommy was pretty.”
“She was,” I tell him, the slight ache in my chest building the longer I watch him.
He smiles wide. “As pretty as Laney?”
“No one is as pretty as Laney.”
“Yeah,” he says. “So can you sing it for me? Like she did for you?”
I clear my throat, ready my voice. I force a smile and whisper the song to him. “There were seven Prestons in the bed and the little one”—I point to him— “said, roll over, roll over, so they all rolled over and Lucy fell down.”
He laughs under his breath, his eyes drifting shut.
“There were six Prestons in the bed and the little one said, roll over, roll over, so they all rolled over and Lucas fell down.”
Even though he’s fast asleep by the time I get to Logan, I finish the song until it’s done. Then I get out of bed, listen to Lane upstairs on the phone, probably talking to Cooper. For the first time ever, I feel out of place. Being here doesn’t feel like it used to. I don’t know if I should leave or if I should stay to let her know I’m going to leave. I exhale loudly, try to calm my nerves. I start to pace, back and forth, round and round. Meanwhile, she’s upstairs, laughing at whatever Cooper’s saying to her. I freeze when I get to her desk, a desk full of memories I have to try to forget somehow. There’s a familiar picture of us on there. Once upon a time it was in a frame and sat in the center of her bookshelf like a proud possession. The picture was taken by my mom the day we met, me in my dirty Superman shirt, her in her slogan tee. Her hair was shorter then, not as wavy as it is now. We both wore glasses, and my pathetically wide grin showed the giant gap between my two front teeth. Our arms are around each other as if we’d been friends for years, or maybe we just knew that we’d be friends for years to come.
I move papers out of the way so I can pick it up, but my fingers graze on a piece of cloth—one that she uses for her cross-stitches. I pick it up, and my eyes widen, my breath catches, my knees weaken. It’s a replica of the picture of us, but it’s incomplete, certain parts of us missing. Her smile is there, though, and my chest aches when I skim my thumb over it. And even though I can hear her footsteps on the stairs making her way down to me, I don’t put it down. I don’t move. I can’t.
She’s next to me now. Coconuts, lime, and Laney.
“I was working on it to give to you for your birthday but…” She doesn’t finish her sentence. She doesn’t need to.
“I should go,” I whisper.
“Wait,” she says, and I swallow my pride and face her. “Can we talk, maybe?”
I nod, though I’m terrified of what she has to say.
She points to the couch in her room—my old bed when I was strong enough to stay out of hers.
We sit.
“So…” I say.
“So…” she says back.
“Um…” I push back the puke. “How are you and Cooper?”
“Fine,” she says quickly. “But I don’t want to talk about him.”
Good. Neither do I.
“I wanted to apologize to you.”
“Me?” I ask. “For what?”
She looks away. First at one wall. Then another. Then she clenches and unclenches her fists, a sign of nerves. Her hands always need to be doing something, that’s why she finds knitting so therapeutic.
I say, “You don’t owe me anything, Lane.”
“I do,” she says, her voice quiet. She inhales loudly, exhales the same way. “I’ve always put you on a pedestal, Luke. I always thought you were a god amongst men, and I think, deep down, I expected you to act that way. And that wasn’t fair to you. At all.” Her lips tremble, and I inch closer, wanting to save her from her own thoughts. She sniffs once, tries to keep it together. “I’ve been in love with you since the moment I saw you, and as we got older I started seeing you differently and I don’t know, I guess I just had this picture in mind of what it would be like to be with you in that way.” She wipes at her eyes before her tears can be released, but I don’t need to see them to know they exist, I can hear it in the shakiness of her voice, feel it in the breaking of my heart. I hate seeing her sad. I hate it even more when I cause it.
I let her speak, not interrupting, because I know it’s important to her that she says what she needs to say and have me hear it. “In my mind, and in here,”—she covers her heart with her hand— “it’s always been you, Lucas.”
It’s always been you, too, Laney.
“And in the end, I got what I wanted. And my expectations of you have nothing to do with who you are as a person or as a friend. That’s all on me.”
“Laney.” I shake my head, my vision blurred by my own tears, my own thoughts. I hate that you feel this, Laney.
“And I’m sorry that I’ve been shutting you out the way I have, because it’s not your fault.” She looks over at Lachlan, sleeping peacefully in what was once our bed. “I should’ve been there for him.” She sniffs again, wipes her eyes on the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “Besides, it was just sex, right?”
I drop my gaze, the ache in my chest intensified. Laney’s never been an “it was just sex” kind of person. I was, and now I made her the same way. Either me or… “So you and Cooper?” I hate asking the question as much as I hate seeing the answer in her eyes. I lift the cross-stitch I’m still holding onto. “Can I have this?” I ask.
She offers me a half-hearted smile. “But I’m not done with us,” she says.
I look into her eyes, memorize them. “Yeah, Lane. I think you are.”
Chapt
er Sixteen
LOIS
The texts started at 5:30 this morning.
Single-letter messages.
The first was an H.
Then an A.
Followed by a P
P
Y
I was almost back to sleep when the next set came.
B
I
R
You get the rest.
All from Cooper.
This year, my birthday landed on Wednesday, which is also Cooper’s busiest day on campus. He couldn’t be with me physically, but he sure let me know he was here in spirit.
I sit in my first class, half asleep because of the thoughtful (and relentless) texts all morning. Dumb Name walks toward me, a piece of paper in his hand. “From Luke’s brother,” he says, dropping it on my desk.
“Which one?”
“I don’t know all their names,” he huffs out. “The annoying one.”
I unfold the note, smile when I see the stick-figure drawing of a girl holding balloons next to a cake the same size as the girl.
Dear Lamey,
Lunch.
Cafeteria.
Be there or be a fucking idiot.
I like your boobs,
- Logan.
There’s a knock on the door and Mrs. Miles sighs, annoyed by the distraction, and opens the door. A man waits on the other side behind a giant bouquet of flowers. “Is there a Lois Sanders in here?” he asks.
I sink lower in my seat, listening to the oohs and aahs coming from my classmates. Mrs. Miles points me out, and the delivery man brings the flowers to me. “Lucky girl,” he tells me. I’ve never really been a flowers kind of girl, so I can’t say what they are. They smell good, though, and they’re so big I have to stand to look for the card, even though I know who they’re from.
“Thank you, young man.” Mrs. Miles shoos him away.
“I’m not done,” the man says. “Our customer wanted to make sure the other girls didn’t feel left out.” He then proceeds to hand a single red rose to all the girls in the class, including my teacher, while the class breaks out in whispers, Cooper’s name on everyone’s tongue. My cheeks burn with embarrassment, hating the attention.
“High school relationships aren’t what they used to be,” Mrs. Miles mumbles, trying to regain the attention of the class.
I find the card, read it.
Happy 18th Birthday to the most beautiful girl in the world.
I love you.
- Cooper.
“How are you even going to fit that in your locker?” Dumb Name asks. “Coop didn’t think this one out, huh?”
“Who cares?” a random girl I’ve never spoken to rebuts. “Cooper Kennedy has money and he’s not afraid to spend it.”
Grace scoffs. “Lucas has money,” she says, facing me and shooting daggers with her eyes. I slump in my seat, avoiding her glare.
“Yeah,” Dumb Name agrees. “Luke has money, but Coop has Fuck You money.”
“Garray!” Mrs. Miles says through a gasp.
“What does that even mean?” the random girl asks.
I’d smash my head against the desk, but the giant bunch of flowers is in my way.
Dumb Name says, “It means the Kennedys can say Fuck You to anyone, and their money makes it okay.”
I wave Logan down when he enters the cafeteria. He smirks and strides toward me. Then he dumps his bag on the table and slumps down in his seat. “I heard you got a delivery this morning.”
“You heard that, huh?”
He chuckles. “The whole school heard.” His gaze shifts around me. “So where is it?”
“Mrs. Miles offered to keep it in her office until the end of the day.”
He nods.
“So…” I start. “You wanted to see me?”
“I’m waiting on Leo.”
“We’re here,” Leo says, walking up behind me. But he’s not alone. He’s dragging what seems to be an unsure Lucas with him. They move to the other side of the table where Leo forcefully makes Luke sit in the middle. Leo dumps his bag on the table, unzips it, then looks up at me. “Ready?” he asks, his grin wide.
I smile back, unable to contain it. “What did you guys do?”
Leo dramatically drops the paper plate on the table. “Ta-da!” he shouts.
My jaw drops, my eyes moving from the plate to each of the Preston boys in front of me. “Are these Virginia’s brownies?”
Three heads nod in unison. All dark hair, all piercing blue eyes.
“You hunted down your old nanny to bake my favorite brownies?”
Logan shakes his head. “No. She’s working down in Wilmington, so she emailed us the recipe.”
I peel the Saran Wrap covering the brownies. “You made these?” I look at Lucas, hoping he’s the one who answers. I’d made peace with the situation between us, but it seems like he’s the one pulling away now, creating an ever-growing divide between us.
“Technically,” Leo says, laughing at my reaction. “All six of us tried to make them. Dad had to take Lachy because he kept throwing eggs. After the third failed batch, the twins gave up. So it was just us three left.”
“We got it right on the fifth batch, but then Luke remembered you liked yours with walnuts, so we had to make those,” Logan says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. “Lane,” he says seriously. “I could’ve died making these for you. Then what would you do? Because I know you want me, and you can’t have me if I’m dead.”
I pout, meet Lucas’s eyes across the table. “This is really nice.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Leo says. “Dad was pissed when he saw the kitchen this morning.”
Lucas chuckles, breaks our stare to glance at Leo. “Was he?” God, I miss his voice, his laugh, his smile. I miss being part of the Preston world.
“So mad,” Leo says.
I pick up a brownie, inspect it. “It’s perfect.” I bring it to my mouth, but Logan stops me.
“We have to sing Happy Birthday first!”
“Don’t you dare!” I hiss.
They all laugh. “Why not?” Leo asks.
“I’m trying to avoid any more attention.”
I ate four brownies for lunch and now I feel sick.
In my defense, they were so good.
“I tried to cut you off at two,” Leo says, shaking his head as he watches me walk, my hand on my stomach, toward Mrs. Miles office after school.
“You just here to gloat?” I ask.
“I thought I’d give you a ride home so you didn’t have to catch the bus with the botanical gardens in your arms.”
“I appreciate it.”
I knock on Mrs. Miles’ door and she opens it, flowers in her hand. “Tell your boyfriend I said thank you for the rose.”
“Sure thing,” I tell her, taking them from her.
I shuffle through school, cheeks red, past everyone pointing and whispering. Leo has to open doors and walk with his hand on my back to lead me around because I can’t see over or through or around my present. We finally make it outside, and I feel like I can breathe again. Then he says, “Um. Lane?”
“Yeah?”
He takes the flowers from me, points to the parking lot. Specifically, Cooper and my dad in the parking lot standing next to a blue car with a giant red bow.
My stomach twists. “Oh no…”
“Happy birthday, baby!” Cooper shouts.
“You got me a car for my birthday?” I ask, moving toward him, a million different emotions rushing through me.
“Not just me,” he says, hands up in surrender. He can read my expression: shock mixed with embarrassment mixed with a whole lot of what the fuck?
“Cooper came to me with the idea, and we worked out a budget that suited both of us,” Dad says. “Cooper found the car online, and I got it checked out.” His eyebrows pinch, concern deep in his eyes. “Do you not like it, sweetheart? Is it the color or—”
“No,” I cut in, hugging him c
lose. “It’s perfect.” But he can’t afford to buy me a car, or half of one, or whatever, and Cooper has an endless stream of Fuck You money. I lean up on my toes, whisper in his ear, “Dad, you can’t afford—”
He releases me, his eyes on mine. “It’s fine, sweetheart.” He glances at Cooper, then back to me. “It’s a wonderful thing Cooper thought to do.”
I turn to Coop. “Thank you.” Then I hug him, too. “This is too much.”
Cooper grins. “You deserve it, Lo.”
“Hey, Brian,” Leo says, standing behind me. “You got Lane a car?”
Dad smiles at him, pride in his eyes I haven’t seen in a long time. Ever since I got my license, Dad had dreamed about buying me a car but he’d never been able to swing it, and with everything that went on with my mom and the college money, he’d given up hope. But now Cooper is here, and he’d given Dad the chance to do something he’d wanted for so long.
Leo sets my flowers on the roof of my new car while Dad tells him all about it. I step closer to Cooper, put my arms around his waist. “I can’t believe you did this. And what are you even doing here? You’re supposed to be in class.”
He shrugs, kisses me once. Then his lips curl, his gaze lingering on mine. “To be fair, it was a selfish gift. Next semester, I’ll be back on the track team and I won’t be able to come home as often. I was hoping maybe you’d come see me on campus?”
“I’d love that,” I tell him honestly.
“So do you like it?”
I look at the car, the hood now lifted while Dad shows it off to Leo and Lucas. “I love it so much,” I tell him. Not necessarily the car, or the fact that it’s mine. I love what it means for my father.
“I’m taking you, your dad, and Misty out to dinner tonight,” Cooper says. “And this time, we’re doing fancy.”
“Holy shit,” Logan says, now standing next to Luke. “Is this yours, Lane?”
I face him. “All mine.”
He laughs. “So much for avoiding attention.”
Cooper takes us to the same fancy restaurant Luke took me to for my sixteenth birthday.
