I don’t sleep very well that night.
Not very well at all.
As promised, Tess makes me ride in the front seat of the SUV with her while Paul sits in the center row and Kimber is pushed into the back (much to her oft-voiced frustration). The ride back to Medina is hell. Pure, unadulterated hell. I miss Parrish already, and he’s just a few feet away from me.
Once we’re home, things don’t get much better. I still don’t have a door and neither does Parrish. There are few ways for me to escape from him unless I hide in the bathroom.
“It doesn’t have to be weird,” I whisper to myself after a particularly awkward encounter in the hallway. But it is. Because I touched his dick, and he put his fingers in me, and mostly, it’s because we confessed our feelings for one another. That’s the weirdest part of all.
I’m so relieved to head back to school on Tuesday that I practically throw myself out of Parrish’s car and sprint through the parking garage with my book bag flopping against my side. Both Danyella and Lumen can tell right away that’s something off with me, but I’m not quite ready to talk about it, so I just brush it off.
By the end of the day however, I feel like there’s a scream trapped in my chest, clawing to get out. I wouldn’t mind paying another visit to Chasm’s cabin to let out some steam.
By the end of the week? I’m ready to sprint my ass over there on foot; if I don’t let out my frustration, I’m going to break. Parrish is being nice, almost too nice. Pair that with Chasm’s false cheer, the lack of a bedroom door, and Tess’ near constant hovering, and my sanity is wearing dangerously thin.
Why did I do this to myself? I wonder, my chin parked in my hand, my elbow resting on the surface of a desk. Mr. Volli is droning on and on about … something. It’s not that I don’t understand it today—thanks to Chasm, I actually do—but that I’m not listening. I’m more than ready for the week to be over.
“Let me guess: this is Parrish related,” Lumen says, far too loudly, waking me from my stupor just in time to realize that I’ve spaced out and missed the fact that class is over. The day is over. I’m free.
“Huh?” I blink myself out of my coma, glancing up to find the honey-haired princess of the school lording over me. Her hands are parked on her hips, her skirt a scandalous few inches shorter than it was during lunch. If Lumen has somewhere to go after school that isn’t home, she usually rolls her waistband up even further, to the point that the skirt looks more like a costume than an actual uniform.
“You’re daydreaming about Parrish again.” She leans forward and puts her palms flat on the desk, giving me the eye. “I’m starting to get jealous.”
“Ms. Hearst,” Mr. Volli calls out as he stacks books together on his desk, “unroll the skirt, please.”
“Sexist,” Lumen murmurs, but she unrolls the skirt as he asked. I’d agree with her in most cases, but I’ve seen multiple dudes wearing skirts here at Whitehall and at least three of them got in trouble for the same reason. As Ms. Miyamoto likes to say, pubic hair and genitals need not touch any school surfaces. “Anyway, you’ve lost your mind.”
“I haven’t,” I promise her, standing up and grabbing my bag. “I’m just tired.” She gives me a look, but that’s not a total lie. All week, I’ve had serious trouble sleeping. I’d say it was the whole ‘made Parrish come and also got fingered by him’ thing, but really, it’s more about Blockbuster. About the way I felt when I saw the Vanguards together, how I wanted to be a part of it … and how once again, I was further away than ever.
Then there’s the issue with the ATV. Someone hit us, and it didn’t feel like an accident. Actually, it seemed very, very purposeful. Add in the hiker and that night in the woods … Ugh. I scrub both hands over my face.
“Everything okay?” Mr. Volli asks, pausing beside me. He smiles warmly and reaches up to adjust his glasses. He’s what I would call ‘painfully average’, as in, you would never remember his face in passing. The way he styles his hair though, and the glasses he wears, the cute plaid bow ties? He’s adorable.
“Everything’s fine,” I reply, but I can’t seem to make myself smile through it.
“Of course everything’s fine,” Lumen declares, tossing her hair in just such a way that her perfume drifts over to me. It smells like roses and … like, cashmere or something. Does cashmere have a smell? “You’ve got your girlfriend by your side.” She casts Mr. Volli a look as he crosses his arms over his chest and waits for us to leave. He seems mildly amused. “And I don’t just mean female friend, Mr. Volli.”
“Students’ love lives are none of my business. Out, Ms. Hearst,” he tells her, shooing us out and locking the door. We run right into Ms. Miyamoto, but she only offers up a smile as she passes by, looking like she’s in a bit of a hurry. She heads straight into the second-floor teachers’ lounge, and I catch a glimpse of a walking stick through the door. It reminds me of the hiker that assaulted me and Maxx, and I start to get fidgety.
“There’s another party at Antonio’s tonight,” Lumen tells me, but I’m already shaking my head.
“Tess barely lets me out of her sight at this point; it isn’t going to happen.” Just talking about my bio mom makes me queasy. Our talk in Bend didn’t exactly go the way I hoped it would; it just made things worse. Meanwhile, I’m still texting Maxine with my second phone, but just barely. Even then, only in the bathroom. Parrish and I are supposed to get our doors back today, so I haven’t exactly had a ton of privacy.
Parrish. Fuck.
I just need time to think. That’s what he said to me. Think? Think about what?
“So what? You’ve snuck out before; you can do it again.” Lumen pauses as Danyella joins us, looking like she’s ready to throw herself off a bridge. I don’t blame her: I’m exhausted and I’m not the director of the production. In just two weeks, the school’s version of Wicked premieres in the Whitehall theater. After that, the crew will travel around the Pacific Northwest for most of the summer putting on performances. They even get to perform at the famous Shakespeare Festival in Ashland, Oregon.
As an ‘extra hand’, I’m not really invited to go with the rest of the crew, but that’s okay. I figure I could use the Ashland performance to get Tess to let up a bit, head down and visit Maxine …
“Not this time. I think I need to talk to Tess tonight.” Just the idea of approaching that woman scares the crap out of me. But I can’t take it anymore. She can’t punish me forever. If she isn’t going to be adult enough to talk to me first, then I’ll fucking do it. She can just sit there and deal with the fact that a sixteen-year-old has better manners than she does.
“You’re talking to Tess tonight?” Danyella repeats, like her brain is busy with about a million other things. “That’s good. Just remember to stay calm.” She taps the side of her head as her pink glasses slide down her nose and come dangerously close to falling on the floor. Lumen reaches out to fix them for her. “Use your empathy, Dakota. Try to get into her headspace.”
“You’re too mature for your own good,” Lumen spits with a dramatic eye roll. “It’s annoying, honestly.”
Danyella tosses her a skeptical look.
“You and your father could use a good heart-to-heart as well,” she begins, but Lumen’s already waving her off. Her eyes zero in on someone down the hall in the same way a hawk might zero in on a mouse.
“Hey dickface!” she calls out, drawing the attention of nearly every person in the hall. That’s Lumen for ya, a true queen bee. I don’t follow the direction of her gaze because I already know who it is that she’s staring at: fucking Parrish. “What did you do to Dakota? She’s been a schizo all week.”
“Schizophrenia is a mental health condition, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t use that word,” Danyella murmurs, but she also knows that telling Lumen anything is near pointless. The girl does what she wants, when she wants. I’m so fucking relieved to have gotten on her good side. On Wednesday, she ended up in a freaking fistfight in the parking
garage with a sophomore girl who called her a slew of names that I dare not repeat. How that got started, I’m not even sure.
“Did you do something?” Chasm asks, pausing beside me. I pretend like I don’t smell mint and dark chocolate, that Parrish didn’t actually suggest that I leave him for his best friend. This school really is full of weirdos. I used to think I was one, what with the vibrant hair colors, the video game obsession, and the grandmaster rank on Overwatch, but this is next-level. Rich kids are disturbed. “Huh, Pear-Pear? Something we should all know about?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Parrish drawls, like he’s bored shitless. Thing is, when I glance over at him, I see his tattooed hand squeezed tight around the strap of his bag. He hides his feelings because he feels too much. It’s like I know a secret that nobody else does, and I can’t help it: I like the idea of that. “You ready?” he asks, looking right at me.
I nod because words won’t come.
Chasm, who’s still banned from the house for another week, looks between the pair of us like he can sense that something’s different. I don’t like it, the way he’s studying me and Parrish with those pretty amber eyes of his.
“Party tonight at Antonio’s,” Lumen repeats, and Chasm snorts.
“Obviously. How could you possibly think I didn’t know that?” he replies, slouching back against the lockers. He slides his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “I’ll be there. It’d be nice if my best friend joined me for once.”
“I already told you: there’s no way in hell that Tess won’t be checking on us. She comes into our rooms every thirty minutes—at least.” Parrish sighs heavily and closes his eyes, like he’s struggling to regain his composure. All week, he’s been sitting on his bed and drawing. I haven’t seen any of his work—he hasn’t offered to show me—but he gets so into it that he often doesn’t notice me if I stand in the doorway and watch.
“Danyella?” Lumen asks, but our friend is already shaking her head.
“Too much work to do for opening night. Sorry.” She shrugs her shoulders, but she doesn’t sound very sorry. Danyella doesn’t mind a party every now and again, and she isn’t a complete teetotaler or anything, but it’s about as much her scene as it is mine.
“Guess it’s just me and you then?” Lumen queries, and Chas shrugs, like he couldn’t care less either way. She turns to me and, before I can think to say anything at all, leans in and presses a glossy kiss to my mouth. “Consider going out with me for real. Stop thinking about Parrish all the time. Trust me: I spent years doing it.” She flicks him an angry look, and he scowls. “He’s a waste of time.”
Lumen takes off down the hall and, after a moment, Chasm follows.
“Lord help me,” Danyella murmurs. “Do me a favor, Dakota, and don’t date either of them.” She heads after the group, leaving me alone with Parrish.
“Shall we?” he asks, and based on the tone of his voice, he may as well be inviting me to a funeral.
“Yep.”
I follow after him, letting Kimber take the front seat, so I can hide in the back.
Just like I did the day that I arrived in Medina.
So much for progress.
I end up falling asleep as soon as I get home, tossing and turning through these terrible dreams where I’m in the ATV all over again, feeling it tip over, feeling that man grab me and drag me out the window. In the dream, he’s also the hiker, beating me with his stick until I wake up sweating.
A glance at my Tess-given phone shows me that it’s not quite eleven o’clock. So much for a quick nap. With a groan, I force myself out of bed to change out of my uniform only to notice that I do, in fact, have my door back.
Thank fuck.
Being able to talk to Parrish was nice, but we haven’t actually talked but for that one night. We’ve barely spoken all week. I guess this is his ‘thinking time’. He has to decide, Dakota, I tell myself, dropping my skirt to the floor and switching out the blazer, dress shirt, and tie for an oversized t-shirt and fresh panties. He has to decide if you’re more important than Tess.
Because that’s what it all comes down to, doesn’t it? Me or her. He can’t have us both. How silly is it that he even needed to say that to me? Of course he can’t choose me over Tess. She’s his freaking mom. I’m a practical stranger. That, and teenage romances never last, do they? We’d probably have broken up before the summer was out anyway.
It’s just … it doesn’t feel like that.
It feels like my heart is broken and the whole world has been turned upside down.
“Snap out of it, Kota,” I murmur, slapping my hands against my cheeks. I’m being ridiculous. Parrish is just a boy, and I’m only in high school, and … well crap. Rational thought isn’t working for me right now. The heart is weird like that; you can rationalize with it all you want, but it rarely listens.
I flick my bedside lamp on—this gorgeous ceramic based beauty to finally replace the space-age monstrosity I used to have in here. The room is flooded with warm, yellow light that helps offset the white walls and the built-in chrome fixtures on the walls.
Hefting my book bag up, I realize that I left my secret phone inside it. Not good. Tess easily could’ve rifled through it while I was sleeping. Also … I glance back at my dresser where the phone tripod is sitting. I was so tired and emotionally worn out that I forgot to set it up to record.
I grab my Tess-given phone from the surface of the nightstand and move over to put it on the tripod.
I am most definitely not expecting to see the pink envelope that Tess gave me back in February, the one that I crumpled up and threw in the bathroom trash. The envelope is open, its secret missive lying atop it in a wrinkled sheet. The blood drains from my face as I pick it up, smoothing out the page so that I can see the elegant, confident curves of Tess’ handwriting.
Dearest Mia is how it starts which, to be frank, makes me not want to read it at all. Tack on the fact that she clearly dug it out of the garbage and then left it in here while I was sleeping, and I am all sorts of creeped out. That’s not the only thing she left me for: the iron skeleton key is there, too.
“What the hell?” I murmur, looking between the letter and the key as I try to figure out what my bio mom’s motives might be here. Between this and the metal heart pin she left for me on my first day here, I’m wondering if she doesn’t have unresolved intimacy issues.
I take the key in my left hand, pausing when I hear footsteps in the hall. My arms drop to my sides as I glance toward the door. A piece of paper slides underneath it before the footsteps retreat, and I hear Parrish’s door close softly, the sound as familiar to me now as the creak of the staircase back home.
Taking both items with me, I move over to the torn piece of sketchbook paper and squat down beside it. As soon as I see what’s on it, I forget how to breathe.
Parrish has left me a little gift with a note scribbled in the corner. He might consider Tess his mother, but his handwriting is so different, slanted and unsure, almost scratched out. Somehow, it seems to fit him perfectly.
I know I told you to think about what you wanted, but here’s an idea to get you started. Roses are a symbol of forbidden love. Also, it’s the state flower for New York. Thought you’d appreciate that.
There’s a green rose in the center of the page, the color of it similar to my hair, this brilliant green that fades to black at the edges. It’s a dynamic piece, an optical illusion that speaks to Parrish’s raw talent. As I stare at it, I can almost imagine the petals unfolding, like the rose is blooming before my very eyes.
The composition sprawls across the page, tendrils of black spiraling out, dotted with thorns and oval shaped leaves. There’s a wash of colors behind it, splattered like a rainbow of spilled ink. The most ominous part of the piece however is the arrow that pierces the rose, drawing ruby red blood from the very heart of it.
I take the page in hand and stand up, my pulse a mimicry of the crashing waves on Lake Washington. It’s windy tonig
ht; I can hear the force of it pressing up against the walls of the ice cavern, like the clawed fingers of a monster asking to come in.
“Damn you, Parrish,” I murmur, sitting heavy on the edge of the bed and staring at the page for so long that my eyes get blurry. Is this what he’s been working on all week in his room? Flipping page after page in his sketchbook, colored pencils echoing into the hallway with a pleasant scratching sound. He could’ve filmed that and uploaded it as an ASMR video, that’s how soothing it was to me.
Using the skeleton key as a paperweight, I set the drawing down and take a deep breath.
I’m not sure I can face Parrish right now, not with my emotions so raw from seeing the drawing. He very clearly put a lot of work into it, a ton of thought.
Instead, I shake out Tess’ wrinkled letter. It isn’t very long, but the way she’s written it, it could very well go into her next novel.
Dearest Mia,
I know that to you, we’ve only just met. That’s understandable. The way you look at me, with a healthy mix of suspicion and unbridled curiosity, is no surprise. But to me, you are my heart, the pulsing beat that keeps me going, that pumps blood through my veins.
You are my inspiration and my muse, the lost daughter of a novelist who doesn’t know herself without the aching chasm of loneliness she’s gotten so used to straddling. Who am I if I’m not missing you? A stranger without purpose, an artist without a canvas, a mother to a child she doesn’t know.
It’s going to be an adjustment for both of us.
I’ve gotten what I always wanted and, although my joy could swallow the universe in its magnanimity, I’m not sure where that leaves me. A traveler without a trail, an adventurer without a map. It’s going to take time, but I believe that love can truly reach across any void, even one that seems endless.
Let’s get to know each other, my sweet daughter.
In the meantime, I’ll sit back and let you come to me.
I won’t be perfect.
I’ll still be a parent (so don’t even think about asking to party all night).
Stolen Crush Page 42
