“One!” I laughed. “Well, thank you. That was…” I struggled for the right word, sure the one I’d arrived at couldn’t be right.
“Nice?” he suggested. “That was nice that I loaned you my good glasses while I wore my spare piece-of-crap ones? That’s the word you’re looking for, I think.”
My eyes narrowed when I heard him yank the very word from my mouth. “Unexpected. That was more the word I was going for,” I replied.
He lifted his eyes like he knew I was lying as I started to stack his feast in front of him. He tore into the bag of Doritos and tossed one into his mouth. “I’m really a pretty ‘nice’ guy,” he said as he crunched on his chip. When he held the bag my way, I shook my head. “You can ask around if you don’t believe me.”
“You have a list of references, do you?” I glanced at him as I started ringing up his order.
His smile tipped into the realm of a grin. “I’ve got a whole telephone book of references.”
“Of course you do. An all-female telephone book of ‘nice’ references.” My fingers hovered above the keys, frozen like my brain.
“There’s some dudes in there, too. Like the one I saved earlier from meeting a premature death. He’d probably be a pretty great reference as to my nice qualification.”
“You did your job and saved his life. This makes you nice, how, exactly?”
Quentin exhaled. “Nothing’s going to be easy with you, is it?”
The corners of my mouth started to pull up. “No, nothing’s going to be easy with me.”
Those green eyes of his felt like they were pushing me away at the same time they were pulling me closer. “Good,” he said. “I like a challenge.”
I returned his stare, proving I wasn’t going to be flustered by a dreamy look and a few pointed words.
When his phone rang a moment later, our eyes roamed in other directions. Mine to the till, where I’d magically remembered how to ring up an employee order, while his latched onto the screen on his phone.
“What’s up?” he answered, taking a sip of his soda. His face fell a moment later. “Did you check behind the hamper? Under my bed? Maybe it got kicked down into the sheets—” Whoever was on the other end cut him off. “Yeah, I’ll be right there. I’m the master at unearthing Mr. Snuggles.”
I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling, hearing him say “Mr. Snuggles.”
After he ended the call, he started wrestling all his food into his arms. “Gotta run. Family emergency.”
“Does it have anything to do with Mr. Snuggles?” I grinned at him as I balanced the half-eaten bag of Doritos on top of the food pyramid.
“The little bastard has gone MIA again, and I’m the only one in the house who is apparently qualified to find him.”
“Good luck, soldier,” I said solemnly as I took his ten-dollar bill and started to make change, but he was already striding away. “Your change!” I called.
“Hit me up tomorrow, okay?”
I clutched the dollar and coins in my fist. “This doesn’t have anything to do with some evil plan of yours to force me to make the third move, does it?”
He spun around, a wide smile on his face as he continued to back away toward the exit. “Of course it does.”
“I thought you liked a challenge.”
Like he had in the pool earlier, he flashed another wink at me. “I thought you did, too.”
I was starting to understand why Aunt Julie wanted to spend every waking minute with me: because her husband didn’t seem to spend a single one with her.
Okay, so maybe that was an exaggeration, but only slightly. This was my fourth night in the Davenport house, and I’d run into him a total of three times. Four if you count the time we passed in the hall early this morning as he was rushing off to the office. The guy had a work ethic, but it was the kind that didn’t leave much room for anything else, including my aunt, who I was starting to believe was the loneliest human being I’d ever met.
“How’s dinner? It’s my first attempt at veggie noodles, and I’m not sure I got them quite right.” Across the table from me, Aunt Julie was scrutinizing her plate like all she saw was a pile of flaws and failures. On either side of her were my cousins, sitting perfectly straight in their seats, napkins poised in their laps, eating their meals like they were dining with dignitaries. I felt like a pig at the trough in comparison.
“It’s amazing,” I said, twirling another bite onto my fork. “The noodles are perfect and the sauce is so good I want to take a bath in this stuff.” I glanced at the girls for confirmation, who dutifully nodded.
Aunt Julie stopped examining her plate long enough to smile up at me. “It’s coconut curry. I thought you might enjoy it.”
“Oh, believe me, I am.” Most of my dinner was already gone, while she had yet to touch hers, but that had been the trend at dinner lately. Those breaks I was supposed to get at work had a way of never actually happening.
So I ate both lunch and dinner at dinnertime.
Quentin was supposed to work yesterday, but there’d been some kind of family emergency, so one of the on-call guards covered for him (turns out that is a thing!), and today he had off. It wasn’t like I was disappointed I hadn’t seen him in a couple of days, but I still had his change and wanted to get it to him. All one dollar and seventy-two cents of it.
Aunt Julie was lifting her first bite of veggie pasta to her mouth when the front door opened. The sound of Uncle Paul’s dress shoes echoing on the wood floors grew louder until he was in the dining room.
Aunt Julie started peeling the plastic wrap from his dinner plate at the head of the table and pouring him a glass of white wine. The twins smiled at their dad as he rounded the table, but he barely noticed. “How was work, sweetie?”
Uncle Paul patted the top of the twins’ heads as he passed, his standard greeting and good-bye. “Busy,” he replied, pulling off his tie before he started to stack silverware on his plate. Aunt Julie’s face fell. “I’ve got to prep for my morning meetings, so do you mind if I take dinner into my office?” he asked, already leaving the room.
Aunt Julie worked up her most convincing smile. “Of course not. Let me know if you need anything.”
Uncle Paul bit a chunk of his roll off as he continued away. “You’re the best, babe.” His voice was muffled as he chewed. “Good day at camp, girls?”
They nodded at the same time, Hannah opening her mouth like she was about to tell a story, but Uncle Paul missed it. “Good day at work, Jade?”
His footsteps were echoing away, when I replied, “Worst day ever.”
Aunt Julie shot me a surprised look, so I shook my head. It wasn’t, but I was trying to prove a point.
“Glad to hear it.” Uncle Paul’s voice came from somewhere down the hall before the sound of his office door closing.
Dinner was a silent affair after that, Aunt Julie scooting food around on her plate but not really eating any of it, her eyes occasionally wandering toward the empty seat at the end of the table. The girls finished up their meals, asked to be excused, cleared their plates, then left to start getting ready for bed.
“Do you mind if I head to the park tonight? Before it gets dark,” I added, getting better at anticipating Aunt Julie’s next questions and concerns before she voiced them.
“What are you going to do at the park? Are you meeting anyone there?” She started to clear the pretty setting she’d put out for tonight’s dinner.
“I’m not meeting anyone; I just felt like chilling there and reading for a while. It looks like a nice park.” I biked past it on my way to work, and one of the big trees on the perimeter would be a perfect spot to lounge and either read or write, depending on my mood.
“Alone? I don’t know, Jade….”
“It’s only two blocks away, Aunt Julie, and I’ll have my phone on me. I’ll be home b
efore dark, I promise.” I finished my last bite and started to help her clear. “I’ll stay out of trouble.”
The way I said it made her smile at the same time that she lifted a parental-type brow. “And what if trouble finds you?”
My nose wrinkled as I shook my head. “I repel trouble.”
As we carried our plates into the kitchen, I was prepared to bring up the fact that I was a seventeen-year-old requesting permission to go to a park to read on a Friday night, in case she voiced any other hesitations, but there was no need.
“I suppose it’s okay,” she said with a sigh, like she’d signed away my life. “Please make sure you’re home before dark. We’re responsible for you this summer, and I don’t want your mom to think we’re letting you run wild.”
I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from telling her that if she thought tonight’s request was running wild, she’d drop if she knew about the time I’d stayed out all night riding a bike around the streets of Seville, Spain, when the Shrinking Violets performed a few concerts there two summers ago.
Not that it was “wild” behavior—no boys or booze had been involved—but I knew I had more freedom than most teenage girls.
“Thanks, Aunt Julie,” I said as I turned on the hot water to start rinsing the dishes.
“I’ve got this tonight,” she said, scooting me aside to take my place. “Go enjoy your reading time.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind helping.”
“You worked a full day and fixed the leaky kitchen faucet. Go be a teenager, for crying out loud.” She nudged me and glanced at the door.
“Don’t worry. I won’t be one of those teenagers who makes the evening news or anything.” I gave her a quick hug. Aunt Julie froze for a moment—then she relaxed. “Thanks for an awesome dinner. I’m sure Uncle Paul’s loving it, too.”
Her face went just sad enough for me to catch. “I’m sure.”
As I headed up the stairs to grab my stuff, I fought the urge to step into Uncle Paul’s office. He was a good guy, and I knew he took his work seriously, but Aunt Julie and the girls shouldn’t come second. I should say something to him—once I figured out how to say it. I added it to my summer to-do list as I gathered up Jane Eyre and my journal and shot back down the stairs to take advantage of the last couple hours of light.
Once I’d made it through the front door, I heaved a sigh of relief. Other than the short walk I’d taken last night after dinner, this was the only time I’d been out on my own when I wasn’t heading either to or from work. I’d missed my freedom, and feeling it now made my wanderlust stir.
I couldn’t wait to get to the park. I’d left off at one of my favorite parts of the book, and I wanted to dive back in. I started reading as I wandered down the quiet sidewalk.
It was the perfect kind of night. Warm but not hot, just enough breeze to play with the billowy layers of my tunic and the ends of my hair, and my feeling that this sidewalk led anywhere I wanted it to. Whether it be the park another block and a half away or the edge of the Pacific Ocean, every road led somewhere. Some roads led everywhere. Mom taught me that.
“Hi, neighbor,” a familiar voice called to me across the yard I was wandering by, my nose in my book.
My feet stuck to the sidewalk. It couldn’t be. No way.
When I peeked over, I found him grinning at me from the top step of the front porch. I gathered myself before replying. “You say this like you knew we were neighbors.”
Nice. Totally chill-sounding.
His shoulders lifted beneath the faded gray tee he had on. So he did have clothes—jeans and everything. “I did.”
“When did you find out?”
“A few nights ago. The same night after we’d had our, you know, ‘misunderstanding’ in the parking lot.” He sat up, resting his elbows on his bent legs.
“When did you see me?” I scanned my memory, but the only time I’d been outside was heading to and from the pool on Lemon-the-kinda-bike.
“When you were sitting in one of the windows facing the street. It was pretty late.” He said this all matter-of-factly, like he was reading a weather report instead of confessing he’d been watching me through my bedroom window late at night.
I lowered my book. “You were spying on me?”
His hand rubbed at his mouth, probably trying to hide his twitching smile. “Seemed only fair, since you spied on me.”
My throat went dry when I thought of what he might have seen through my bedroom window. “What did you see?”
His eyes didn’t dodge me as he answered, “Just some girl reading.” He paused, clearing his throat. “And maybe crying as she read a letter.”
I was relieved he hadn’t seen me trotting around in my underwear, but at the same time I was furious he’d seen me so vulnerable. “I can’t believe you.”
He didn’t look the least bit fazed by my outrage. “So who wrote the note? Some loser who broke your heart?”
My weight shifted. I wasn’t expecting this detour into a spying-neighbor confession. “No boy’s ever made me cry. And one’s certainly never broken my heart.”
“Why? Don’t have one of those four-chamber things in your chest?”
I narrowed my eyes at him, even though I was kind of enjoying our banter. “Because I’ve never let one get close enough to my heart to break it.”
Quentin nodded. “That’s a guaranteed way to protect yourself from a heartbreak.” He paused, a strange look settling on his face. “And love,” he added as an afterthought.
“Family emergency under control now?” I asked, taking a moment to inspect the yard. I hadn’t noticed it at first, since I’d been a little shocked discovering that Quentin and I were almost next-door neighbors, but there were more toys scattered around the yard than actual organic matter. Everything from footballs and soccer goals to a turtle sandbox and a stroller.
“All under control,” he answered, checking something he was holding in his hand. “Thanks for asking.”
When I noticed a stuffed elephant dangling from the stroller, it made me think of something. “How’s Mr. Snuggles?”
Quentin’s chest lifted with a huff. “Being snuggled as we speak.” When he lifted his hand, he was holding a baby monitor, and on the screen I spotted a baby asleep in a crib, a stuffed bear tucked close by.
“My parents are out, so I’m in charge,” he explained, his eyes softening when he checked the monitor screen. Which made my heart go kind of soft, too.
“Girl or boy?” I asked, motioning at the baby.
“Girl. Lily’s her name.”
“And I’m going to guess she’s the only girl in the house?” I swept my arm toward the yard, where the most “girl” toy was…the purple lightsaber-looking thing.
Quentin grumbled when he inspected the mess scattered around the yard. “Two younger devils. Or ‘brothers,’ when my mom’s in hearing range.”
Okay, so this guy wasn’t only the head lifeguard at the public pool, he also babysat his three younger siblings. The more I got to know Quentin, the more I realized how many sides he had.
“My parents will be home by nine. Want to hang out later?” he asked.
When I stayed quiet, he prodded, “Yes or no. Those are the most common answers to that kind of a question. You know, in case you were wondering.”
“What did you have in mind?” I shifted again, not sure why this boy made me so uncomfortable. One minute he made me feel like I should steer clear, only to fight the urge to come closer the next.
He set the monitor down and clasped his hands together, grinning up at me. “I’ve got plans.”
That was what I was worried about.
“What type of plans?”
Quentin grinned. “The good type.” He let that hang between us before continuing. “Better ones than spending the summer readi
ng books in the park.” His knuckles tapped the cover of my book, almost like he was knocking on some door he was waiting for me to answer.
“I like books,” I replied, all brilliant-like.
He gave me a look.
“I love books,” I added, holding his unblinking stare. He was trying to make a point—so was I.
“Why don’t you try creating your own story instead of living inside the pages of someone else’s imagination?”
I was ready to argue back, but I hadn’t been expecting him to say that. I hadn’t been ready for him to call me out for almost the same thing Mom had in her letter. Sure, his delivery was filled with more accusation than hers, but the takeaway was the same—live your life.
“You don’t know me,” I said slowly, taking a step back. “Just because I love books doesn’t mean I don’t have a life.”
“You’re right. I don’t know you. But I’d like to.” His eyes squinted when he looked up at me, the evening sun glinting down on him.
“Why?” I asked.
He stood, rising slowly from his perch on the steps, walking down a step, and then another, until he was standing on the same level as I was. “Because.” He stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets and shrugged.
“Why?”
He moved a step closer, hesitated for a moment, then took one more. His eyes found mine. “Because I think you’re worth knowing.”
Tingles crawled down my back. Actual tingles.
“Maybe another time,” I said, backing toward the sidewalk.
“I know the definition of maybe.” He took his own step back toward the porch. “Never.”
I paused when I hit the sidewalk. “I’ll think about it, okay?”
He waved, still moving away. “Don’t think about it for too long. Or summer will be over.”
His words were a challenge, a dare. That’s all I could think about as I finished my trek to the park. By the time I was stretched out under the tree I’d scoped out a few days ago, I was restless. I couldn’t get comfortable, the bark rubbing my back wrong, the roots beneath me prodding my backside.
I was too aggravated to even think about writing, but I found the same problem waiting for me when I opened my book. I couldn’t make it through one paragraph without replaying Quentin’s and my conversation.
Almost Impossible Page 6
