Sounds of Silence: A Contemporary Romance

by Candace Wondrak

  That was probably for the best, anyways.

  Still, I could not fight the way my heart sped up in my chest as I felt his fingers hold onto my hand, as I watched him bring the pen to the top of my hand and scribble down his number. He stood inches away, far too close, practically blocking the entire world out, utterly intent on writing his number down on my skin.

  This was weird, wasn’t it? I should’ve just given him my number; this wouldn’t be happening otherwise. Stupid, stupid.

  When he was finished writing down his number, he withdrew the pen…but he did not release his hold on me right away. His smile lingered as he said, “Text me. I can come over, or I can come pick you up. We could meet at the library…whatever. Anywhere, okay?” He finally took a step back, his hand sliding off mine, leaving a vacant coldness where he’d been touching me.

  My hand felt tingly afterward, but I refused to let it show as I studied the number written on the back of it. All I did was nod before turning away and walking off. I didn’t get very far, however, because I remembered he had my pen—so I spun on my heel, marched back to him, and plucked the pen from his grasp.

  “You don’t get to keep my pen,” I muttered, reaching behind me to stuff it back into the side compartment of my bag.

  “Don’t worry,” he told me, practically radiating energy, “by the time this project is done, I’ll steal more than your pen.”

  I was about to ask him just what the hell he meant by that, but Mason winked—he actually winked—before walking away, leaving me speechless. I watched him go, my mouth falling open. A wink? Really? I thought winking was reserved for books or movies, not real life.

  And why would he wink at me?

  That thought, along with his smile, lingered in my head all throughout the day. My attention span was hardly great on a usual day, but today it was absolutely shattered. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t listen to any of the professors drone on and on about their topics. All I could do was stare at my pen, at the number on the back of my hand, and wonder why I felt so…conflicted.

  It’d been so long since I’d had a crush, so long since I cared enough to think about anyone else like that. They were all pointless feelings, anyway, because as soon as someone knew the real me—not the boring mask I wore around in public—they wouldn’t want to spend any time with me, anyway.

  Nobody liked someone who was always sad.

  I was careful to avoid any bathrooms during the day, making it home with the number still written on my skin. What I should’ve done immediately was transfer it into my phone, but for whatever stupid reason, the moment I did that, everything would feel more real.

  I hated myself sometimes.

  No, okay, like all the time.

  When I got home, I was alone, though not for long. Mom was an elementary school teacher, so she’d be home within the hour. Michelle was at her classes for the day, and then she’d probably go hang out with her boyfriend. Dad wouldn’t get home until later, having started his shift at the practice later in the day.

  It was fine. I liked being home alone. It allowed me to spend some time outside of my room, to relax and not have to worry about faking any smiles or small talk. After dropping my bag in my room, I headed downstairs, my phone in my hand. I plopped myself on the couch in the living room, turning on the TV for mindless sound.

  My eyes fell to my hand, to Mason’s number.

  Shit. I should really put it in my phone and go scrub it before my mom got home. She’d ask me countless of questions I just didn’t feel like answering. Going on a date? I knew the boys would start lining up for you eventually. All you have to do is put yourself out there. It’s really not hard, Bree. It’s how I met your father.

  Blah, blah, blah.

  No dates for me.

  I unlocked my phone and put Mason’s number in, saving it before hoisting myself up and heading into the bathroom upstairs. I figured it was about time to shower—since it was Friday and my parents had the weekend off, they’d never let me hear the end of it if they saw me with greasy hair.

  I had no idea why, but showering just felt so…pointless. Plus with how my hair was, it got greasy after twelve hours. No way in hell was I going to wash my hair twice a day just to look normal. I was pretty sure with how pink it was, normal was out of the window, anyway.

  Why was my hair pink? I didn’t know. I turned to bleach and color a few years ago, suddenly deciding that I could cut my own hair and style it however the fuck I wanted. It’s why my bangs were a bit too short, cut a bit too jaggedly, and why my hair was an ungodly shade of pink. It kept most people away from me, at least. Not many people wanted to talk to a girl that looked like a freak, so it saved me some energy, at least.

  After locking the bathroom door, I started to shed my clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor. I stepped into the tub, pulling the shower curtain closed before turning on the water. The other good thing about not washing my hair every day was that the color lasted longer. You couldn’t get dye like this permanent; it had to be semi-permanent. Every time you touched heat or shampoo to it, the color faded.

  After a year of fumbling around with different brands though, I’d finally found an electric pink dye that stayed more than six washes before becoming a soft pastel. Yeah, I was not a soft pastel kind of girl. Those hair colors were somehow considered cute and in-style. Whatever. Leave me and my bright pink hair alone, thank you.

  I swept my hair over a shoulder, letting the warm water pelt my back. I stared at the numbers on my hand, running a finger over them. Now it was up to me to text him, something I did not want to do. Up to me to make the first move, which sucked. I did not like being the one who had to make the first move now.

  Fuck. Should’ve just given him my number and gotten over it. There was no way Mason could ever like someone like me, anyways. I was too trapped in my own head, worrying about things that didn’t matter. You’d think, after all this time, I would be used to knowing no one cared enough to want to get close to me. No boy wanted to date me.

  It was fine. I was used to it. I didn’t want to date anyone either. I’d only bring unnecessary drama to the relationship anyway.

  Eh, maybe drama wasn’t the right word. More like hopelessness. Most people didn’t know how to handle someone who thought living was pointless, someone who found no enjoyment in anything anymore.

  Again, it was fine. I would be fine, as fine as I could be.

  I started to scrub the numbers off my hand after grabbing my soap.

  When Mom came home, I danced around the subject of the group project, not knowing what to say yet. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, wrinkles around her blue eyes. Even though she was barely fifty, she was starting to look old. That, or teaching a classroom of third graders made you exhausted.

  “How was your day?” she asked me as she was going through the mail. I’d been so lost in my head that I’d neglected to hear the garage door open and her car pull in, otherwise I would’ve left the living room and headed upstairs to avoid this conversation.

  Then again, she probably would’ve headed upstairs to talk to me, anyway.

  Mom and I used to be close, but then I grew up. Then I was no longer the happy, carefree child I was, instead a young adult who constantly wondered what the point of life was. Mom thought all I needed was to get out there, to have friends and hang out with them, and I’d be all fixed. I’d be the old me again. The old Bree Stone.

  No, I didn’t think I would ever be that girl again, but Mom didn’t know that. As long as I smiled sometimes, as long as I acted normal, she thought I was fine.

  “Okay,” I said, resisting my urge to get up right then and head upstairs. Instead, I played with my fingernails on my lap. Luckily by now, the redness of the back of my hand, where Mason’s number had been written, had died down. Just looking at me, you’d never know I had someone’s telephone number written on my skin. “How was yours?” I asked, though I didn’t particularly care.

  It wa
s always the same, anyways. She complained about the trouble children, while simultaneously saying she could never give it up. Teaching was in her blood.

  “Same old, same old,” Mom spoke, giving me a smile. “Had to send Jerry to the principal’s office, but besides that, everyone else was good.”

  Jerry. This family had heard many horror stories about Jerry, the kid who always acted up and acted out, interrupting her lessons on a daily basis. The kid frankly sounded like he had no parental supervision at home, which was why he was a little demon in class. It seemed like parents these days didn’t really care about raising their children right.

  Then again, look at my own parents, and look at me. They might think they did a good job raising me—and they did, in the fact that they never abused me—but I would never go so far as to say I was a normal, functioning member of society.

  Mom wandered away, going to set the mail in the kitchen and probably to start cooking dinner. Dad would have to reheat his, whenever he got home later. It wasn’t but five minutes later when the front door opened and Michelle walked in, practically bouncing on her feet as she dropped her bag near the door.

  My sister was not like me. She was a bit taller, a bit fuller in figure, with long blonde hair and blue eyes like our mom’s. She was gorgeous, even when her face wasn’t wearing makeup. Michelle was the girl all the guys wanted, the one that drew every male’s attention since she’d first started her journey into puberty.

  Yeah, most guys were disgusting.

  Having a sister like Michelle made me feel worthless, really. She was nice enough—though of course she could take on a bitchy tone like no other when she wanted to—and I knew I should never compare our looks, but I knew that’s what everyone else did.

  After all, how in the hell could I be related to such a pretty girl? Look at me, and look at her. Anyone in their right mind would choose her, if given the choice.

  Being second best had hurt me when we were younger, but it was what it was. This world was all about looks if you were a girl, and that would never change. Why bother trying to look nice when, even if I was all dolled up and clean, I’d never compare to her?

  I heard my mom’s voice from the kitchen, “You’re home early. I thought you were hanging out with Kyle?” Michelle spent every waking moment she could with Kyle, so it wasn’t that strange for her to wonder it.

  “I am,” Michelle chimed in, her voice preppy and fun and giggly, even when she wasn’t laughing. “I came home to drop my stuff off and get ready, then I’m out of here.”

  I sighed to myself as I tried to focus on the TV screen, on whatever rerun was on right now. What I did not expect was to see Michelle saunter into the living room and block my view. She had her hands on her hips, her stance cocked as her bright blue eyes studied me. Her yellow hair was wavy, tumbling over her shoulders.

  My sister was more than pretty. She was gorgeous in a way most girls never could be.

  “What?” I asked when she did not move, when she did nothing but stare at me as if waiting for me to say something, to do something.

  “Get up,” she said. “You and I have plans tonight.”

  I blinked. Again, I said, “What?”

  “You and I are going out,” she clarified, her stare level with me even though I refused to get up.

  “I thought you were hanging out with Kyle?”

  “I am, but his brother is in town, and he needs to get out of the house. He’s bringing Calum, and I’m bringing you.” Michelle gestured for me to get up and follow her up the stairs. “Come on, Bree. Let’s get you ready.”

  Uh, I had no idea what she thought or why she thought it, but there was no way in hell I was going on a blind date with my sister’s boyfriend’s brother. And a double date at that. A blind, double date. Ew.

  Don’t get me wrong, Kyle was nice enough. I’d met him on more than a few occasions since he and Michelle had been dating for so long, but he wasn’t exactly my type. If his brother was anything like him, he wouldn’t be my type, either.

  Plus, me and a blind date? Yeah, not what I wanted to do.

  What did I want to do on this Friday night? I’ll…I’ll get back to you on that.

  “I’m not going,” I muttered, frowning to myself.

  Mom poked her head in the room, a bag of pasta in her hands. “What’s this?”

  Michelle glanced to her, saying, “I’m trying to get Bree to go on a double date with me and Kyle. Calum’s in town for a while.”

  Our mom did not need to know any other detail apparently, for she perked up immediately. “That’s a wonderful idea,” she exclaimed, a full-blown smile gracing her face. “You should get out of the house more, Bree. And who knows? You might end up clicking with him.”

  Yeah. Me clicking with my sister’s boyfriend’s brother was high on my priority list.

  “I don’t want to,” I said, meaning it. This, Michelle practically coming in out of nowhere with this, it wasn’t fair. I couldn’t prepare myself to turn her down. I felt uneasy in every possible way, but my mom and my sister either didn’t care or were too blind to see it.

  Michelle reached for me, grabbing my hand and hauling me to my feet. “Come on, Bree. I’m not taking no for an answer.” She practically bounced on her feet as she led me out of the living room, past our mom, and up the stairs.

  She took me to her room, where all her makeup was.

  “I’m glad to see you already showered,” she said, touching the still-damp tendrils of pink hair near my shoulder. “Straight or curled?”

  “Michelle,” I whined, really not wanting to go. This would not end well; I could see it now. She and Kyle were perfect for each other, but that didn’t mean his brother and I would hit it off. I didn’t know nearly anything about him, besides his name and the fact that he was Kyle’s older brother. I did know he was a few years older than me.

  “Girl, you’re coming,” Michelle said. “Don’t worry, it’s not going to be a crazy date or anything. Just dinner and a movie. You can handle that, can’t you?”

  I could handle that as long as I didn’t see my sister and her long-term boyfriend get handsy in the theater or the booth across from me. I’d be miserable, but then again, that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for me.

  “I guess,” I muttered, frowning as Michelle sat me on the edge of her bed.

  My sister ended up dressing me, putting makeup on me, and curling my pink hair into soft waves. I was her silent doll, a frowning doll, a doll who did not want to go out and do anything tonight.

  Today had been rough already, with everything involving Mason. Why couldn’t I catch a break?

  Chapter Four – Calum

  Coming home had been a split-second decision. I had an apartment with a few friends in the city, the same friends who I worked with. I just…I couldn’t be there right now. Not after what happened. My mind still reeled after what I found out, after what I saw.

  My girlfriend with someone else. My girlfriend with one of my roommates, one of my best friends from college.

  Yeah. Not a good sight. Not something any man wanted to see where his girl was concerned.

  Which was exactly why I did not want to go with Kyle and his girlfriend on this weird setup. I was more than fine lounging around at home with Mom. I just wanted a break from everything, before I had to go back and fix the shitstorm that was my life.

  Even after all these years, Mom hadn’t changed my room. I sat on my bed while Kyle stood in the doorway, giving me a come on look. “Dude, you’ll be fine,” he was busy saying, his hands stuck in his jean pockets. “She’s nice.”

  Nice. Yeah, that’s what everyone said about Hilary.

  Wait, no. Maybe they didn’t say that about her.

  I had no idea who Michelle’s sister was. I’d graduated from high school before she’d become a freshman, so I’d never met her before. Didn’t really want to, either, but it seemed my little brother would not take no for an answer.

  I was twenty-five years o
ld, being set up by my eighteen-year-old brother. Talk about pathetic. Besides, now was the last time I wanted to be set up with anyone. Another relationship was the last thing on my mind. Right now, I just wanted…fuck, I didn’t even know what I wanted; I was that fucked up from seeing Hilary with Trent.

  Kyle had sprung the date on me out of nowhere, so I had no time to tell him no. He was forcing me to get ready, and I…I was doing my damnedest not to do anything of the sort. Me, trying to look good for a date. Yeah, right.

  I’d go, but I wouldn’t be happy about it, and I sure as shit wouldn’t try to impress her.

  What did he say her name was again? Bree? Yeah, I think that’s it. Bree.

  Kyle went on, “She, uh, doesn’t get out of the house much, but she’s nice.” Again with the nice comments. It made me wonder if she was some overweight ogre who I’d immediately hate Kyle for trying to set me up with her.

  I had a type, okay? Every guy did.

  “So is she a recluse, or what?” I asked, resisting my urge to roll my eyes.

  “No, she goes to SCC. She just…doesn’t get out much.”

  Sumit Community College, the local school meant for kids who either wanted to get their general credits done cheap or those who didn’t know exactly what they wanted to do with their life. Great. A college girl that was, quote, nice.

  My brother was really talking her up, wasn’t he?

  I got up, went to the restroom after pushing past him, and checked myself in the mirror. My blonde hair was only a shade or two darker than being white, a natural color, something I’d gotten from our mom. Kyle’s hair was a dirty blonde, though we did both share the same blue eyes. I wore a t-shirt and jeans, nothing fancy, nothing special. It was a bit cool outside, so I’d probably throw on a hoodie and call it a night.

  Hey, I meant it when I said I didn’t want to dress up and try for this stupid date.

  Kyle was already downstairs when I came down, talking to Mom in the living room. It was already early evening; we wouldn’t be back until late, until after she was asleep. Mom was bundled up in her blankets, tea sitting before her on the coffee table. Her eyes, the same color as ours, were vibrant and smiling as she looked between us.