The Cora Carmack Box Set

by Cora Carmack

  I smiled, and nodded.

  Bliss was so determined to make Hamlet like her that she played with the cat for at least half an hour before bed every night. Hamlet would stick around for as long as Bliss waved that feathered toy in the air, but the minute Bliss tried to touch her, she was gone.

  I found Hamlet in the kitchen, hiding underneath the kitchen table. I reached a hand down, and she butted her head against my fingers, purring. I picked her up at the same time that Bliss asked, “Babe, have you seen the cat toy?”

  I walked into the room, and deposited Hamlet on the bed. She hunkered down and eyed Bliss with distrust.

  “Where did you see it last?” I asked her.

  “I thought I’d left it on the dresser, but I can’t find it. “

  I petted Hamlet once to keep her calm, then placed a quick kiss on Bliss’s cheek.

  “I don’t know, honey. Are you sure you didn’t leave it somewhere else?”

  She sighed, and started looking in other spots around the room. I turned and hid my smile as I left. I nipped into the bathroom and turned the shower on. I waited a few seconds, went back in the hallway.

  “Bliss?” I called.

  “Yeah?”

  “Check the drawers of the nightstand! She was playing with it in the middle of the night, and I think I remember taking it away and sticking it in there.”

  “Okay!”

  Through the open door, I watched her circle around the edge of the bed. I walked in place for a few seconds, letting my feet drop a little heavier than necessary, then opened and closed the door like I’d gone back inside the bathroom. Then I hid in the space between the back of the bedroom door and the wall where I could just see through the crack between the hinges. She pulled open the top drawer, and my heartbeat was like a bass drum. I don’t know when it had started beating so hard, but now it was all that I could hear.

  It wasn’t like I was asking her to marry me now. I just knew Bliss, and knew she tended to panic. I was giving her a very big, very obvious hint so that she’d have time to adjust before I actually asked her. Then in a few months, when I thought she’d gotten used to the idea, I’d ask her for real.

  That was the plan anyway. It was supposed to be simple, but this felt . . . complicated. Suddenly, I thought of all the thousands of ways this could go wrong. What if she freaked out? What if she ran like she did our first night together? If she ran, would she go back to Texas? Or would she go to Cade who lived in North Philly? He’d let her stay until she figured things out, and then what if something developed between them?

  What if she just flat out told me no? Everything was good right now. Perfect, actually. What if I was ruining it by pulling this stunt?

  I was so caught up in my doomsday predictions that I didn’t even see the moment that she found the box. I heard her open it though, and I heard her exhale and say, “Oh my God.”

  Where before my mouth had been dry, now I couldn’t swallow fast enough. My hands were shaking against the door. She was just standing there with her back to me. I couldn’t see her face. All I could see was her tense, straight spine. She swayed slightly.

  What if she passed out? What if I’d scared her so much that she actually lost consciousness? I started to think of ways to explain it away.

  I was keeping it for a friend?

  It was a prop for a show?

  It was . . . It was . . . shit, I didn’t know.

  I could just apologize. Tell her I knew it was too fast.

  I waited for her to do something—scream, run, cry, faint. Anything would be better than her stillness. I should have just been honest with her. I wasn’t good at things like this. I said what I was thinking—no plans, no manipulation.

  Finally, when I thought my body would crumble under the stress alone, she turned. She faced the bed, and I only got her profile, but she was biting her lip. What did that mean? Was she just thinking? Thinking of a way to get out of it?

  Then, slowly, like the sunrise peeking over the horizon, she smiled.

  She snapped the box closed.

  She didn’t scream. She didn’t run. She didn’t faint.

  There might have been a little crying.

  But mostly . . . she danced.

  She swayed and jumped and smiled the same way she had when the cast list was posted for Phaedra. She lost herself the same way she did after opening night, right before we made love for the first time.

  Maybe I didn’t have to wait a few months after all.

  She said she wanted my best line tomorrow after the show, and now I knew what it was going to be.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  WRITING THIS BOOK was nothing short of a whirlwind. I got the idea, and it was different than anything else I’d written before. My sister encouraged me to write it, and then in only a matter of weeks, I had a first draft. The journey of publication was similarly chaotic and wonderful. Through it all, I have quite a few people to thank.

  First, I have to thank my mother, who instilled in me a love of books. Thank you for being my teacher and my friend. Thank you for proofreading pretty much everything I write. Thank you for always laughing at my jokes even if you don’t get them. Thank you for always believing that I was gifted enough to make my dreams come true. To my dad, I know my choices stress you out. We’ve argued about a lot of them, but you are always there when I need you. Thank you for caring so much that you lose sleep at night and for checking my Amazon rankings even more frequently than I did. To my sisters, thank you for loving books with me, for listening to me blather on about my ideas, for being enthusiastic about my work when I am unsure, and for putting up with the windmill. I love you.

  Thank you to Lindsay and Michelle, my first readers. I don’t think I would have ever finished this book if you two hadn’t loved it as much as you did. Thanks to Ana for being my cheerleader. You know I’ll always return the favor. And thank you to Heather for answering my plethora of questions. Thanks to Bethany, Lindsay, Joey, Patrick, Kristin, Zach, Marylee, Shelly, Sam, Justin, and all my other theatre friends who provided ample inspiration, made me believe awkward could be cool, and have been so supportive of me.

  A HUGE thanks goes to Suzie Townsend, my dream agent, who read my book even though she’d sworn off New Adult. I couldn’t have asked for a better advocate. Thanks also to Kathleen, Pouya, Joanna, and all the New Leaf ninjas! You are all incredible, and I’m so happy that you are all on my side (and that we saw Tyra together). Thanks to Amanda and HarperCollins for loving this book as much as I do. Thank you to both Georgia McBride and Kevan Lyon for being amazing at your jobs and two of the nicest people in the world.

  And last, but certainly not least, thanks to all those who read, reviewed, and spread the word via blogs, Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, Instagram, etc. This book would not be where it is without you all. I owe you all my gratitude.

  Dedication

  To my mother.

  Thank you for being my best friend, my teacher, my coach,

  and nothing like the horrendous moms in my book.

  You loved me and loved words, and taught me how to love both as well.

  Thank you. A thousand times, thank you.

  Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

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sp; Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  1

  Cade

  You would think I’d be used to it by now. That it wouldn’t feel like a rusty eggbeater to the heart every time I saw them together.

  You would think I would stop subjecting myself to the torture of seeing the girl I loved with another guy.

  You would be wrong on all counts.

  A nor’easter had just blown through, so the Philadelphia air was crisp. Day-old snow still crunched beneath my boots. The sound seemed unusually loud, like I walked toward the gallows instead of coffee with friends.

  Friends.

  I gave one of those funny-it’s-not-actually-funny laughs, and my breath came out like smoke. I could see them standing on the corner up ahead. Bliss’s arms were wound around Garrick’s neck, and the two of them stood wrapped together on the sidewalk. Bundled in coats and scarves, they could have been a magazine ad or one of those perfect pictures that come in the frame when you buy it.

  I hated those pictures.

  I tried not to be jealous. I was getting over it.

  I was.

  I wanted Bliss to be happy, and as she slipped her hands in Garrick’s coat pockets and their breath fogged between them, she definitely looked happy. But that was part of the problem. Even if I managed to let go of my feelings for Bliss completely, it was their happiness that inspired my jealousy.

  Because I was fucking miserable. I tried to keep myself busy, made some friends, and settled into life all right here, but it just wasn’t the same.

  Starting over sucked.

  On a scale of one to ghetto, my apartment was a solid eight. Things were still awkward with my best friend. I had student loans piling so high I might asphyxiate beneath them at any time. I thought by pursuing my master’s degree, I would get at least one part of my life right . . . WRONG.

  I was the youngest one in the program, and everyone else had years of working in the real world under his or her belt. They all had their lives together, and my life was about as clean and well kept as the community bathrooms had been in my freshman dorm. I’d been here nearly three months, and the only acting I’d done had been a cameo appearance as a homeless person in a Good Samaritan commercial.

  Yeah, I was living the good life.

  I knew the minute Bliss caught sight of me because she pulled her hands out of Garrick’s pockets, and placed them safely at her sides. She stepped out of his arms and called, “Cade!”

  I smiled. Maybe I was doing some acting after all.

  I met them on the sidewalk, and Bliss gave me a hug. Short. Obligatory. Garrick shook my hand. As much as it irked me, I still really liked the guy. He’d never tried to keep Bliss from seeing me, and he’d apparently given me a pretty stellar reference when I applied to Temple. He didn’t go around marking his territory or telling me to back off. He shook my hand and smiled, and sounded genuine when he said, “It’s good to see you, Cade.”

  “Good to see you guys, too.”

  There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Bliss gave an exaggerated shiver. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m freezing. Let’s head inside.”

  Together we filed through the door. Mugshots was a coffee place during the day and served alcohol at night. I’d not been there yet, as it was kind of a long trek from my apartment up by the Temple campus and because I didn’t drink coffee, but I’d heard good things. Bliss loved coffee, and I still loved making Bliss happy, so I agreed to meet there when she called. I thought of asking if they’d serve me alcohol now, even though it was morning. Instead I settled on a smoothie and found us a table big enough that we’d have plenty of personal space.

  Bliss sat first while Garrick waited for their drinks. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, but the winter weather agreed with her. The blue scarf knotted around her neck brought out her eyes, and her curls were scattered across her shoulders, windswept and wonderful.

  Damn it. I had to stop doing this.

  She pulled off her gloves, and rubbed her hands together. “How are you?” she asked.

  I balled my fists under the table and lied. “I’m great. Classes are good. I’m loving Temple. And the city is great. I’m great.”

  “You are?” I could tell by the look on her face that she knew I was lying. She was my best friend, which made her pretty hard to fool. She’d always been good at reading me . . . except for when it came to how I felt about her. She could pick up on just about all my other fears and insecurities, but never that. Sometimes I wondered if it was wishful thinking. Maybe she never picked up on my feelings because she hadn’t wanted to.

  “I am,” I assured her. She still didn’t believe me, but she knew me well enough to know that I needed to hold on to my lie. I couldn’t vent to her about my problems, not right now. We didn’t have that kind of relationship anymore.

  Garrick sat down. He’d brought all three of our drinks. I didn’t even hear them call out my order.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “No problem. What are we talking about?”

  Here we go again.

  I took a long slurp of my smoothie so that I didn’t have to answer immediately.

  Bliss said, “Cade just finished telling me all about his classes. He’s kicking higher education’s ass.” At least some things hadn’t changed. She still knew me well enough to know when I needed an out.

  Garrick nudged Bliss’s drink toward her and smiled when she took a long, grateful drink. He turned to me and said, “That’s good to hear, Cade. I’m glad it’s going well. I’m still on good terms with the professors at Temple, so if you ever need anything, you know you just have to ask.”

  God, why couldn’t he have been an asshole? If he were, one good punch would have gone a long way to easing the tightness in my chest. And it would be much cheaper than punching out a wall in my apartment.

  I said, “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  We chattered about unimportant things. Bliss talked about their production of Pride and Prejudice, and I realized that Garrick really had been good for her. I never would have guessed that out of all of us, she’d be the one doing theatre professionally so quickly after we graduated. It’s not that she wasn’t talented, but she was never confident. I thought she would have gone the safer route and been a stage manager. I liked to think I could have brought that out of her, too, but I wasn’t so sure.

  She talked about their apartment on the edge of the Gayborhood. So far, I’d managed to wriggle out of all her invitations to visit, but sooner or later I was going to run out of excuses and would have to see the place they lived. Together.

  Apparently their neighborhood was a pretty big party area. They lived right across from a really popular bar. Garrick said, “Bliss is such a light sleeper that it has become a regular event to wake up and listen to the drama that inevitably occurs outside our window at closing time.”

  She was a light sleeper? I hated that he knew that and I didn’t. I hated feeling this way. They started relaying a story of one of those nighttime events, but they were barely looking at me. They stared at each other, laughing, reliving the memory. I was a spectator to their perfect harmony, and it was a show I was tired of watching.

  I made a promise to myself then that I wouldn’t do this again. Not until I had figured all my shit out. This had to be the last time. I smiled and nodded through the rest of the story, and was relieved when Bliss’s phone rang.

  She looked at the screen, and didn’t even explain before she accepted the call and pressed the phone to her ear. “Kelsey? Oh my God! I haven’t heard from you in weeks!”

  Kelsey had done exactly what she said she would. At the end of the
summer, everyone was moving to new cities or new universities, and Kelsey went overseas for the trip of a lifetime. Every time I looked at Facebook, she had added a new country to her list.

  Bliss held up a finger and mouthed, “Be right back.” She stood and said into the phone, “Kelsey, hold on one sec. I can barely hear you. I’m going to go outside.”

  I watched her go, remembering when her face used to light up like that talking to me. It was depressing the way life branched off in different directions. Trees only grew up and out. There was no going back to the roots, to the way things had been. I’d spent four years with my college friends, and they felt like family. But now we were scattered across the country and would probably never be all together again.

  Garrick said, “Cade, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about while Bliss is gone.”

  This was going to suck. I could tell. Last time we’d had a chat alone, he’d told me that I had to get over Bliss, that I couldn’t live my life based on my feelings for her. Damn it if he wasn’t still right.

  “I’m all ears,” I said.

  “I don’t really know the best way to say—”

  “Just say it.” That was the worst part of all of this. I’d gotten my heart broken by my best friend, and now everyone tiptoed around me like I was on the verge of meltdown, like a girl with PMS. Apparently having emotions equated to having a vagina.

  Garrick took a deep breath. He looked unsure, but in the moments before he spoke, a smile pulled at his face, like he just couldn’t help himself.

  “I’m proposing to Bliss,” he said.

  The world went silent, and I heard the tick-tick of the clock on the wall beside us. It sounded like the ticking of a bomb, which was ironic, considering all the pieces of me that I had been holding together by sheer force of will had just been blown to bits.

  I schooled my features as best as I could even though I felt like I might suffocate at any moment. I took a beat, which is just a fancy acting word for a pause, but it felt easier if I approached this like a scene, like fiction. Beats are reserved for those moments when something in the scene or your character shifts. They are moments of change.