Heartbreakers and Fakers

by Cameron Lund

  And I feel terrible for what I just said to Sarah. Sarah has never been anything but straight up with me. In a summer of lies, she’s the only person who has been fully honest, who hasn’t played any games, has given me so many chances to prove I’m worth it.

  But maybe I’m not.

  When I get to my house, I pull the car into the driveway, braking a little too forcefully. There’s another car here, and I’m immediately more on edge. It feels like I haven’t seen my mom in weeks, and I really don’t feel like dealing with Steve. I just want to go inside and take a shower, rinse all of today’s fresh mistakes off me. It would have been nice to talk to my mom about everything going on. Except how can I possibly fill her in when there are just too many layers of history that she wouldn’t understand? How can I have an honest conversation with her when Steve is here?

  I quietly open the door, hoping I can sneak by and not have to talk anyone. But then my mom pops out from behind the door to the kitchen. She’s all dressed up in her favorite purple date-night dress, dark hair long and flowing down her back. I’m not used to seeing her out of her scrubs. The house smells like garlic, Norah Jones playing quietly on the speakers.

  “Penelope,” she says. “There you are.”

  “I’m just gonna go upstairs to shower,” I say, starting to turn away. And then a man walks up behind my mom. He’s tall, broad-backed, with curly dark hair, a rumpled flannel shirt, and glasses. He is most definitely not Steve.

  “This is Phil,” she says. “We met at the grocery store.”

  I just look at her for a second. And suddenly I’m so angry. All the negative feelings I had for Steve are replaced in an instant with sympathy. Steve was nice and he was trying, and even Seb seemed to like him. But she pushed him away just like all the others, replaced him right when things were starting to feel a bit too real. “Are you kidding me?” I say, backing away from her.

  Her smile falters. “Phil was just telling me all about the hotel he’s opening up on the lake—your brother is on his way home too, and then I thought maybe we could all have dinner.”

  “Why, Mom?” It’s a loaded question. Why did she end things with Steve? Why should we bother having dinner with this man, who we’ll obviously never see again? Why, when I haven’t seen her in days, does she want to invite this stranger to hang out with us when we could have spent the time as a family? “What about us, Mom? I mean, what about Steve?” I’m surprised that I feel the question in my gut.

  “Penelope,” she says, an embarrassed warning in her tone. Her hands are up, like she wants to reach out and hold me but she’s scared I’ll run.

  “All I want is a little bit of time with you,” I say. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. You’re the only parent I have, and you . . . you care more about impressing some guy you met at the grocery store than you do about actually being here for us.”

  “Should I go?” The man—Phil—says, backing away from us slightly.

  “No,” I say, turning back around “No, I’ll go.” My mom tries to grab me then, to pull me to her chest, but I twist out of her grasp, and then I’m running out the front door and down the driveway, the screen door slamming behind me.

  “Penelope, wait!” she calls out to me, but I don’t turn around. I just keep running, putting as much distance between us as possible.

  Our road is long and winding, trees towering on either side, sheltering me from the sun, and I run. I run until I can barely breathe, until my lungs feel like they’re on fire. My phone vibrates a few times, and I know it must be my mom calling, but I ignore her.

  I don’t know how long it is before I stop, but at some point my wobbling legs slow down on me, and then I bend over, leaning my hands on my knees.

  My mom calls again, and I press the button to ignore it, and then scroll through to find Kai’s number before I have time to wonder what I’m doing. He picks up after the first ring. “Hi, my little cinnamon roll.”

  “Kai,” I say, and I’m surprised to find that I’m crying. It comes out as a sob.

  “Penny? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

  “Can you come get me?”

  “Yeah, of course. From where? Where are you?”

  I tell him the cross streets, and then sit down on the curb to wait. For once, he’s not late. His Jeep pulls up in fifteen minutes and I climb in. I’m emptied out, hollow, but seeing Kai makes me feel a little bit better.

  He turns the Jeep left and heads toward the highway, and I know where he’s taking me without having to ask. He flips on the stereo and finds us a playlist—something loud and angsty and intense—and then we drive the forty minutes it takes to get to the beach. It’s foggy today, and cold—cold enough that we should probably close up the sides of the Jeep, but I don’t care. I kind of like it. I like the smell of the ocean, the wind whipping through my hair, stinging my cheeks, making me feel like I’m alive.

  It’s not until we’re parked that Kai turns down the music, looks at me, and finally speaks. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I press my hands to my eyes; they’re puffy now, and probably streaked with mascara. The wind has dried my tears cold onto my cheeks. I know I should be embarrassed for Kai to see me like this, so weak and vulnerable and disheveled. But for some reason, I’m not. I mean, it’s just Kai.

  I don’t answer for a minute, trying to keep my breathing steady as I form the words. “It’s my mom.”

  Kai holds my gaze. “What did she do?”

  “I came home today and there was another guy in the kitchen.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Some new guy from the grocery store.”

  “But what about the pancake guy?”

  “I’m just so mad at her,” I say. “It’s not even really about Steve. I just . . . want to have real conversations with her. Ugh, I’m sorry.” I let out a strangled breath. “I shouldn’t have called you. This is so embarrassing. I promise I’m not always this much of a mess.”

  Kai reaches out and takes my hand. “No, hey, babe. This isn’t embarrassing. Life is messy sometimes.”

  His use of the word babe throws me. It doesn’t sting like it did before. Instead, there’s a fluttering in my chest, a sudden feeling like I might cry again, but in a good way. I hold his hand just a bit tighter. “Hey, remember—you’re not supposed to call me that.”

  “Call you what?”

  “Babe.”

  “Oh,” he says, letting out a gust of air. “Oh, I guess I didn’t realize that I said it.”

  “It’s okay.”

  I reach out and tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear, and then for some reason, I leave my hand there on the side of his face. We’re looking at each other, neither of us blinking, and strangely I’m finding it hard to breathe. I know I need to pull my hand back, or look away, or make some silly joke to get us laughing, but I can’t stop staring at him.

  And then he’s leaning closer to me and I know I should pull back like I did in his room because this is dangerous, so dangerous, and will only make things more complicated. Except suddenly his face is so close to mine that I can feel little puffs of air on my lips from his breath. But that doesn’t last long either, because then his lips touch mine and oh, wow, we’re kissing.

  This is different than our kiss back at the cabin, which was light and quick and meaningless. I know there’s no one watching us, that we’re all alone right now at this beach without an audience to fake this for, but I don’t want to think about that. I don’t want to think about anything, really, except for the feel of Kai’s lips against mine, the fluttering feeling in my stomach, the pressure of his hands on my back. His tongue touches mine then, and the feel of it sends a jolt of electricity through me. I just want to move closer to him, to press myself against him so we’re touching everywhere.

  I know we’ve done this before, that this isn’t the first time we’ve kissed like this. But that was messy and
drunk and all wrong. This feels right. It feels like it’s the first time. It feels brand-new.

  The air is cold, the wind whipping my hair around us like a curtain, and I can’t tell whether I’m shivering from the wind or the kiss. Probably both. I shudder, and Kai pulls away from me.

  “Are you okay?” His forehead is resting against mine, and I can feel his words on my lips like a whisper.

  I nod. “It’s cold.” But I kiss him again, because really that’s the best way to stay warm.

  A few minutes later, he pulls back again. “We should put the top back onto the Jeep. I have blankets and stuff.”

  At the word blankets, I’m sold. We break apart and he opens a hatch in the back and pulls out the tarp siding. Soon, we’re cozied up inside on the back seat, warm and out of the wind.

  It’s awkward for a few seconds, because what the hell are we doing? We’re quiet, cuddled up under a blanket, but then he leans over and kisses me again, and it’s even better than before.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull away from Kai to look at it. It’s my mom again. I turn the phone off and stuff it back out of sight.

  “Do you think you should tell her where we are?” Kai asks, but I shake my head.

  Then an idea comes to me. “Let’s stay the night here.”

  Kai looks at me in surprise. “Really?”

  “I mean, can we? Like, legally, can we leave the Jeep parked here all night, or . . .” I trail off, the look on Kai’s face making me feel doubtful about everything.

  “This beach is pretty hidden,” he says. “I think we could probably get away with it.”

  “We don’t have to,” I backtrack, but Kai stops me with a smile.

  “No, I want to. I’m just surprised. It’s a very . . . un-Penny-like suggestion.”

  “Well, maybe I’m changing.” I smile back. The truth is, I’m feeling very un-Penny-like at the moment. I know it sounds crazy, but I really, really want to stay here. Let my mom worry about where I’ve gone for once, instead of the other way around.

  And there’s another part of me that really doesn’t want to stop kissing Kai. Something about this beach makes me feel removed from the real world, like maybe out here the rules don’t count. Like I can get away with whatever I want.

  I kiss him again, smiling against his mouth. “We’re going to get in so much trouble for this.” The idea of it is thrilling and terrifying all at once.

  “I like trouble,” Kai says, kissing me, and then he threads his fingers through my hair and pulls me closer. We stay like that for a while, and then his hand finds its way to the button of my shorts and tries to reach inside.

  I pull back from him. “Wait. Not yet. I’ve never done this before.”

  He draws his hand back, his voice a whisper. “Really? But Jordan—”

  “We never did.”

  He looks at me for a long time and his silence makes me nervous. “We were supposed to, actually,” I continue. “The night that everything happened. But obviously, things didn’t work out.”

  Kai pulls away, sitting up beside me. “Fuck. Really?”

  I try to bring him to me, feeling the absence of his warmth deep in my bones. I need him on top of me again. I just want to go back to the part where we’re kissing.

  “Hey,” I say softly, like I’m coaxing a spooked animal. “It’s not your fault. We’re equal-opportunity assholes, remember? And things with Jordan—”

  I stop then, remember Jordan’s visit to Scoops from earlier in the day. I can’t believe I told him Kai and I were faking things. Thinking about Jordan right now seems wrong, in any capacity. I don’t know whether I should tell Kai about what I said. Because if I tell him, we’ll have to stop this thing between us, and he might be upset I ruined the plan. He might go right back to being that guy again, the one who thinks I’m stuck-up and selfish and fake. I don’t want that to happen. Whatever this is, I like it.

  “I think this is all working,” I say instead. “Jordan came by to see me earlier today at work.”

  Kai bites his lip. “Oh. What did he say?”

  “He saw the picture I posted of us at dinner . . . I think he was jealous.”

  “And . . .” Kai pauses, chewing still on his lip. “. . . is that something you still want? For Jordan to be jealous?”

  No. The answer to the question comes so immediately and surely. But saying the word out loud feels like too big a risk. “I . . . I don’t know.”

  “Penelope.” My name is a sigh.

  I look at him for a moment, too scared to say anything and break whatever this might be between us. But I have to. There’s too much to say. “What about Olivia?”

  “That wasn’t real,” he says. “This is. This thing between us isn’t pretend anymore, and you know it.”

  “When did it stop being pretend, Kai?”

  “Was it ever?” He cocks his head to the side, studying me, and I’m terrified. Fighting with Kai has been a part of my being for as long as I can remember—as true a part of me as my long hair and my blue eyes and my big ears. It’s my identity. Kai Tanaka is the worst. I’m scared to let myself trust him.

  “But we don’t get along,” I say softly. “We hate each other.”

  “Do we?” He runs a hand over his face. “What don’t you like about me?”

  “Kai,” I say, a warning.

  He takes my hand. “No, I want to know. I want you to tell me so I can do better.”

  I sigh. “Okay, you asked for this.” I think for a moment, listening to the lapping of the waves on the shore. “You’re late for everything.” He grins, and I grab his cheeks with my hand so he’ll stop. “No, I’m serious. It’s rude. It means you don’t value people’s time.” I look down at the faded blue fabric of the blanket because it’s easier than looking right at him. “You always think everything is a joke. Even now. You’ve always been so condescending to me, and you don’t care about anything. You’re such . . . wasted potential.”

  “Wow,” Kai says. “Don’t hold back.”

  “Like, you don’t even try, and the world still opens up for you because you’re a guy and you’re good-looking and apparently that’s all that matters. I have to put in double the effort to get half the respect.”

  “Okay,” he says, pulling away from me. “Yeah. I get that. I feel so terrible that I’m partly responsible, you know? That I was an idiot—that I’ve been an idiot for most of my life—and made your life even a little bit harder. I’m sorry I made up that nickname. I like making up nicknames and I thought it was funny and obviously it wasn’t. But also, you’re white, Pen. Sometimes I have to put in double the effort too. You just don’t notice it.”

  “Oh,” I say, my cheeks flushing. “I never thought about it that way.”

  “You know the kind of shit Asian guys have to deal with? There’s always gonna be more doors open for you or for guys like Jordan. I mean, they had internment camps here less than a hundred years ago.” He sighs. “I love being Japanese. I’m proud of it. But it’s not always easy.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, chewing my lip. I remember then how difficult he’d said it was when he moved here, how out of place he’d felt in our mostly white school. Just because things haven’t always been easy for me doesn’t mean they’ve been any easier for Kai—he’s been fighting our whole lives to climb over a barrier I can’t even see. “You’re right. I should have realized sooner.”

  “And just because I don’t care about the same stuff as you,” Kai continues, “doesn’t mean I don’t care. It doesn’t mean I don’t try.”

  “But . . . you just coast by at school,” I say, hesitant. “You don’t study and you still get good grades anyway. You don’t even want to go to college.”

  “Yeah, and why do you want to go to college?”

  “Because that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? That�
��s what people do. They graduate high school and if they’re privileged enough to go to college, they go.”

  “Yeah, and they get a bunch of loans they’ll never be able to pay back and they make themselves miserable, all for what? Where’s the passion in that? Do you love to study?”

  “No, but I’m good at it. It’s important—”

  “What do you love?” Kai asks, pulling the blanket tighter around us. It’s so weird that we were just kissing and now we’re having this conversation.

  “What?”

  “What do you love? What makes you happy?”

  I’m just looking at him, my mouth slightly parted, because I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to answer. I guess it’s just not a question I’ve ever thought to ask. I know what makes Jordan happy, what makes Olivia happy. I know that I care so much about being liked, about being respected, looking my best, presenting the right version of myself to the world. But underneath all that, what else is there?

  “I like . . . making things. Like I told your mom. I like craft projects, and creating cool makeup looks.” I’m embarrassed. I feel naked, exposed, my underbelly unprotected. I feel more vulnerable than I did when his hands were all over me only minutes before.

  “Then that’s what you should do.”

  “That’s just for fun, though. That’s not a career.”

  “Who says?” Kai shrugs. “Lots of people do makeup professionally. Somebody has to design costumes and build props for shows and stuff. You don’t have to go to school where Olivia wants to go.”

  “It’s not about Olivia,” I say. “I want to go to a big city. There’s something exciting about the idea of a crowded sidewalk—somewhere I can blend in.” I need to start over somewhere fast and new. There’s the vision again—me walking quickly across the UCLA campus headed to class.

  “LA’s not that urban,” Kai says, and the vision pops. “It’s all traffic and suburbs. People drive everywhere.”

  “I like to walk.”

  “I know you do,” he says. “I pay attention. I do care, Pen. I care about my friends, and I would do anything for my family. I care about surfing, about my paintings, about, like . . . enjoying my life, making people laugh. I love my mom more than anything. I care about dogs, and tacos, and, like . . . fucking injustice in the world.” He pauses for a second. “I care about you.”