by Hazel Kelly
I said it was nice to meet everybody, thanked them for making room, and apologized in advance for not catching everyone's name. Except Danny's. I heard his loud and clear. Not that I had a problem with the guy. His arm, however, looked too long from where I was sitting, and I couldn't help but think it might look better in two pieces. Surely she would've told me if she had a boyfriend?
"I almost didn't recognize you," she said, leaning over the table. "In your college student disguise."
"What? This old thing?" I joked, glancing down at my T-shirt.
"Can you even name a Ramones song?" Danny asked, nodding his mess of dark curls towards my chest.
"I can name at least ten Ramones songs and tell you what album they're on." Wanker.
His lips curled down like I'd passed a test I wanted nothing to do with.
"Hi," the woman beside me said as she stuck her hand out. "I'm Crystal."
"Nice to meet you," I said, struck by what a pretty smile she had.
But the more we talked, the harder it was to pretend that it was her smile I came to see. Because it wasn't. Nor was it her eyes I wanted to admire, as sparkly as they were.
It was Brie's smile. Brie's eyes. Brie's laugh that I wanted to hear.
And I knew before the end of the next song that I'd come for all the wrong reasons.
E I G H T E E N
- Brie -
Five minutes with James was all it took to make Crystal forget about Darnell and his relentless penis, which was bittersweet. I mean, I should’ve been happy they hit it off. It would be great if she finally moved on (like she kept insisting she wanted to). But couldn't she pick one of the other guys in Cassidy's? There must've been over a hundred to choose from.
Then again, even I could see how boyish and unappealing they all were by comparison. Plus, he was totally her type. Tall. Fit. Oozing an easy, enviable confidence. Best of all, he hadn't made her a bunch of promises he'd failed to keep. Hell, he was everyone's type.
Even the guys seemed powerless to his charms as he commanded the attention of our booth so effortlessly even The Bitter Lips' extended encore couldn't compete. It was ridiculous.
And he wasn't just cool to everyone. He was generous, too. Granted, he probably bought the shots for us out of pity after the way my friends hoovered up the first pizza before he even had a chance to look at a second slice. But if the first round hadn't won everyone over, the second sure sealed the deal. Even Danny was charmed, forgetting his life's work of misreading my every signal to brag to James about the summer he lived in Birmingham as a high school exchange student. This was beyond dull for the rest of us, unfortunately, but there was some poetic justice in watching him suck up to James after unfairly treating him like a gate-crashing poser who deserved nothing but scrutiny.
If I didn't know better, I'd think I was jealous.
Lord knows Maddy had always been vocal about how annoying it was that his playful, Gosling-blue eyes seemed to turn everyone he came across into an instant James Mason superfan. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized the itchiness in my chest wasn't born of a desire to be like him, but a desire to be liked by him.
I wanted those eyes on me. I wanted him to make me laugh, to make me feel. Like he had the night we stayed up eating cheese in the dark. I wanted it to be my name on his lips. I wanted to be his favorite. But his favorite what? What the hell was wrong with me?
I should've been thanking my lucky stars that he hadn't shown up in a stuffy suit, shoved pizza in his ears, and talked with a fake accent all night. Except I should've known better. Because if there was one person I could trust not to let me down, it was James. Always had been.
Hell, even when his dad's betrayal tore our families and friendships apart, he was the only one who didn't wash his hands of me. Sure, things were strained, but I'd leaned on him when he didn't even realize it. He'd been the one person in my life who I could honestly say had never hurt me, disappointed me, or looked the other way when I was down on myself.
He was a catch and a half. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized my crush on him wasn't as deeply buried as I thought. If anything, the torch I carried for my stepbrother wasn't snuffed out by his unannounced arrival. It was doused in gasoline. And if I wasn't careful, I was liable to burn the place down.
"You okay?" Danny whispered in my ear. "You look a little pale."
"I'm fine," I said, standing abruptly, suddenly suffocated by the arm he'd pretended to have around me all night. "I just need to go to the bathroom."
His eyes were full of concern, and I wasn't the only one who noticed. Everyone looked at me all at once, and I felt light-headed. "Does anyone need anything from the bar?" I asked, trying to be casual despite feeling absolutely crazed. I didn't even wait around to hear everyone's answer. As soon as I saw two people shake their heads, I made a beeline for the bathroom, which wasn't exactly a haven of tranquility.
There were only two stalls, one of which had a broken lock while the other was being used by two girls who were having a conversation so slurred I couldn't tell what they were talking about. But it was probably James. Why wouldn't it be? He clearly had enough charm to go around and seemed to be the talk of the town.
I shoved a wad of veil-thin toilet paper in the door to hold it shut, squatted over the toilet, and tried to focus on the graffiti scrawled on the back of the door. I learned that Cheryl was a slut, which must've been true because two other people had embellished the slander with their own pens. I also learned that Harry has the clap. Poor guy. Then I learned that James loves Crystal.
I was so startled I almost forgot to wipe, but after righting myself and blinking half a dozen times, I saw that it clearly said Jaime loves Cristin. Fuck. I needed help. I pushed out of my stall, glanced at the gossiping girl in the doorway of the other, and went to wash my hands, relieved to find there was soap in the dispenser for a change. Then I threw the door open, and— "Hi."
James was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.
"I think the men's room is on the other side of the bar."
"Are you okay?" he asked, dropping the foot he'd bent against the wall.
No, I'm not okay. I'm obsessed with my stepbrother, and I don't know if it's because he's the only one in the family who’s actually nice to me or because I've been in love with him since the first time I saw him kick up his skateboard.
"Brie." He put his hands on my shoulders and dropped his head to meet my gaze. "Talk to me. What's going on?"
"Nothing," I said, feeling grounded by the weight of his hands. "I just have a lot on my mind."
"The Bitter Lips' lyrics will do that to a person."
My tense mouth relaxed towards a smile.
"You want me to get Danny?" he asked, searching my eyes.
"No," I said, pulling back. "What? Why?"
"Aren't you guys…?"
"No," I said, straightening up. "Why would you even think that?" Think what exactly? Had I even let him finish the sentence?
"Relax, okay. I didn't mean to assume—"
"Well you did," I snapped, feeling even more confused. Didn't I want him to think I wasn't into him? Isn't that exactly what I wanted? "You did assume."
"Okay. That answers my next question," he said, taking a step back as a girl on heels walked by us like she'd taken her training wheels off too early.
"What was your next question?" I asked, trying to soften the defensive edge in my tone.
"Never mind." He turned towards the top of the short hall.
"Tell me," I said, grabbing his arm and spinning him back in my direction. "What were you going to say?"
He fixed his eyes on mine. "I was going to say if you want to go home with him, just say so. I'm not here to cramp your style."
My brows crashed together. "What? Is that what you want?"
His chest rose and fell with a slow sigh. "No. That's not what I want."
"Why did you even come here?"
His eyes were steady,
his solid body still. "I came here for you."
"So you don't want me to go home with Danny?"
"What I want for you doesn't matter," he said. "What do you want to do?"
"I want to go home with you." The words came out so fast I wasn't sure if I said them out loud, but by the subtle twitch of his lips I knew he'd heard me. "I mean together. I mean…" I pressed a hand over my eyes and made a mental note to ask Santa for ruby slippers this year.
James pulled my hand down gently.
I looked up at him, my eyes pleading that he would forgive me for saying too much. Even better if he hadn't noticed, hadn't read into my words, which I meant more than it would be okay to admit.
"You want to go home now?" he asked. "Or do you want to stay for one more drink?"
"Now," I said, grateful that he hadn't recoiled or backed away from me or mentioned Danny or Crystal or anyone else.
"Okay," he said. "Let's get your stuff and get out of here."
My chest loosened. "Thanks."
His smiled softly. "You don't need to thank me," he said, leaning over to whisper in my ear. "That's what I want, too."
N I N E T E E N
- James -
Brie refused to go home without her bike, so what should've been a five-minute Uber ride turned into an hour-long stroll.
"Are you sure I can't at least wheel that thing for you?" I asked, glancing her way. "I really don't mind."
"I'm sure," she said. "You're too tall, anyway. You'd have to hunch."
"Shame you don't have pegs on the back wheels," I said, moving between her and the street as we rounded the next corner. "Then we could both hop on."
She smiled like the suggestion had given her a funny visual but kept her eyes on the spokes of her front wheel.
"Your friends are nice."
Her eyes drifted over to mine. "Thanks."
"I especially liked Marco. Pretty cool that his dad was a racecar driver." As a man, I liked to think I'd have the guts to take a turn at 200 mph, but I had my doubts. You had to be a mad bastard to risk life and limb like that.
"Marco, huh? That surprises me."
My brows drew together as a soft wind rustled the leaves of the oak trees overhead. "Why?"
"I thought you liked Crystal best. Seemed like you two really hit off."
I scoffed. "She could hit it off with a brick wall if she wanted to."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, a tinge of defensiveness in her voice.
"Nothing. Just came on a bit strong for me."
Her eyes narrowed for a second before she turned them back to the sidewalk. "Does that mean you didn't like her?"
"Not at all," I said. "I just…felt like she was trying too hard."
"She's on the rebound."
"Ahh," I said, nodding towards the horizon. "So I shouldn't take it personally?"
"No, you should. I mean, I think she genuinely liked you."
"She's not really my type."
Brie flinched. "Since when are gorgeous girls not your type?"
I shrugged. "Looks aren't everything."
"Easy for you to say."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," she said. "I'm sorry if she came on too strong. Like I said, she had her heart broken recently."
"I'm sorry to hear that." My sympathy was genuine. It was hard to imagine what Crystal would look like without her smile lighting up her face. We walked quietly for a few minutes, the sounds around us getting more pleasant as we headed away from the congested area near the lake towards the suburban neighborhoods of Chicago's North Shore. "So is Danny your Ron?"
Brie scrunched her nose and swerved around a dark spot on the sidewalk. "What?"
"The Ron to your Hermione?" I asked. "He's obviously infatuated with you."
"He's harmless."
"Yeah. Like Ron."
She turned to look at me. "You realize Ron and Hermione end up together, right?"
"What? No, they don't. Surely, she ends up with Harry."
"Jesus," she groaned. "Have you even seen the movies?"
“Parts?"
She shook her head. "Well—spoiler alert—Hermione doesn't end up with Harry."
"That's ridiculous. Does that mean Harry ends up alone?"
"No," she said. "He ends up with Ginny Weasley."
"Ron's sister? What a scandal!"
"I can't have this conversation."
"I'm sorry my lack of knowledge about the half-blood prince is such a turnoff for you."
"Apology accepted," she said, as if I'd sincerely offended her sensibilities.
"I just always thought Harry and Hermione would be such a good power couple."
“Maybe you should cry into some fanfiction."
My brows perked. "Is this a sore subject for you?"
"Which? Someone I thought I respected speaking ill of the greatest story ever told or you comparing me and Danny to Ron and Hermione?"
"Whoa whoa whoa." I splayed my hands out to stop the madness. "Did you just say you lost respect for me because I had the guts to admit what millions of other people have no doubt thought privately?"
She grimaced. "Too harsh?"
I laughed. "A bit, yeah."
"I take it back then, but that doesn't make your opinion okay."
"Why?"
She turned her frustrated expression my way. "Because you can't just rewrite other people's stories and realities to suit yourself. There are a million reasons why Harry and Hermione can't and shouldn't be together. Sometimes you just have to accept the way things are."
"And how are they?" I asked.
"What? I already told you."
"No, I mean, with you and Danny."
She sighed, her exasperation tangible. "I kissed him once, and he can't seem to forget about it."
My feet stopped moving, and my ribs tightened several notches.
"Are you okay?" Brie asked, stopping in her tracks when she realized I was no longer beside her.
"What? Yeah. I’m fine." I rolled my shoulders back to hide the chill that ran up my neck at the thought of her kissing him. Or anyone else, for that matter. "Thought there was something in my shoe."
"Is there?"
"No." I swallowed my frustration. "Anyway, you were saying?"
"I kissed him. That's all. I'd had a few drinks, and he's so damn persistent… I suppose I thought maybe it might change how I felt about him, but it didn't."
"Except it did for him."
"I don't know."
"I do," I said too fast.
"What?" She stopped rolling her bike again and turned towards me. "Did he say something to you?"
"He didn't have to." I squared up to her.
"What does that mean?"
I fixed my gaze on hers. "It means I can't imagine kissing you and not having it change everything."
She stared back at me for ages, and every time she blinked my heart skipped a beat. "Well of course it would change everything if you kissed me," she said finally.
"Would it?" I asked, clenching my jaw.
She dropped her voice to a whisper. "I don't know."
I turned back in the direction of the house and took a few steps before letting out the breath I was holding.
Moments later, the sound of her bike tires began sucking at the pavement again as they rolled along behind me. And as anxious as I was that I'd said too much—shown too much—her words outside the bathroom echoed in my ears.
I want to go home with you.
T W E N T Y
- Brie -
We didn't speak the rest of the way home. Not to discuss the route, not to argue over who should be wheeling my bike, and certainly not to discuss anything related to kissing or Harry Potter.
We just kept heading towards the house one street at a time, one roll of my front wheel at a time, one pounding heartbeat at a time.
On the plus side, I was confident he couldn't hear my heart pounding. He seemed too distracted by the volume of his
own thoughts, which were forcing his forehead into a visibly unrelaxed position.
But I didn't want to ask what he was thinking. Not because I didn't want to know, but because of what he admitted to me on Green Bay Road. Kissing me had crossed his mind. And part of me hoped it was still crossing it. Even now. Twenty minutes later.
The other part of me? It was shaking. Hiding. Determined to deny me an answer to the question that had been plaguing me since Junior High. Does James Mason like me back? Like, like me like me. As more than a friend or a stepsister. And if he does, then what?
God, the whole thing seemed so stupid when I thought back to that more innocent time, when I thought the stakes were so insurmountably high. In reality, things were so much simpler then. A crush was a crush. A hug was a hug. A kiss was a kiss.
But now I wouldn't even know what to do if he reached for my hand. Would I take it? Hopefully. I liked to think my body would take the lead even if my mind panicked. But he didn't want to hold my hand. Or if he did, it wasn't all he wanted to do. I could tell by the look in his eyes when we stopped earlier.
To think I had myself all worked up over him and Crystal like a jealous schoolgirl when I could see clearly now that he'd never looked at her like that. Not even for a second. Like he wanted to devour her. Like he wanted her so bad it hurt.
But that's how he'd looked at me. And he must’ve known I caught it because he hadn't looked at me since. Instead, his gaze moved between the ground in front of him and the end of whatever street we were on. He didn't look at the pretty houses, didn't try to figure out where the occasional bark came from. He was in his head. And I didn't know how to pull him out of it when the tension between us was so thick.
And it was still mounting.
When there were just two driveways between my bike basket and our house, I took a deep breath and slowed my pace. But his steps slowed, too, like he was moving through syrup. "Well, that took longer than I thought!" I said, the awkward cheer in my voice piercing the cool evening air.
