by Lee Jacquot
“Eyes up here, pup,” she hisses, tossing her handbag across the chairback.
I roll my eyes, quickly tapping the remote on the table while simultaneously starting the timer. A royal purple floods the small room, making Lily’s contacts reflect an iridescent glow.
For the remaining time, I don’t bother looking at her. I can’t. Every time I do, images of her wrapped around William flood my thoughts. My jaw will clench until I’m sure I’ve cracked a molar. Little spots will cloud my vision as the anger begins to consume me, and my breaths will come harder and faster like I’m trying not to drown.
Still, even without looking, it happens. Slowly at first, then all at once. My pulse begins to race, and soon I’m struggling to suck in air.
Fuck her for making me want to punch my best friend in the face. And honestly, fuck her for making me feel.
The timer buzzes, pulling me back up for air. I gulp it greedily before silencing the alarm, keeping my eyes on the table. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“How are you?”
“Dandy. How are you?”
“Busy,” I cut, glancing up.
She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she crosses her arms and mutters, “I’m sure.”
“How are you feeling?” I ignore her comment. I’m sure she’s referring to the influx of attention surrounding me, especially since a few of my dates are members of her little cult cheer squad. It must really fuck her up that after all she’s done, girls still want me. Too bad I can’t make her watch the way she made me.
“Dandy,” she repeats, but the tips of her ears bloom a soft pink, forcing my lips to twitch and split into a grin. That makes the blush worse, and the heat spreads to her cheeks. She purses her pouty lips, and my gaze snaps to them.
I wonder if she purred under William the way she did with me. If she melted from the warmth and fell apart in his arms. From what I saw, it looked like it, but it didn’t sound like it.
And if anyone knows how to fake something, it’s Lily.
The memory of them together tries to weave through my chest, squeezing my heart in the process. I clear my throat, a failed attempt to dismiss it as I wait for her question.
“How are you feeling?” Her words come out slow and soft, almost as if she cares about my response. It’s the perfect therapist’s tone. I’m curious if she still practices it in the mirror like she used to.
“How long are you going to sit there and talk to yourself, Liliana?” I huff, tossing the big beach ball in the air.
She turns, her sun-kissed tan from our day in the ocean shimmers under the setting sun. We’ve been in the treehouse for a whole hour and haven’t read one manga or ate one bucket of popcorn. Instead, she wanted to practice some psychologist lines in the mirror.
“You never let me practice with you, so I have to do it somewhere.”
“Because you make me feel like some kind of lab rat,” I spit, but quickly find myself regretting it. That’s not the real reason, but I can’t bring myself to tell her that. Tell her how good she sounds for a twelve-year-old kid and makes me want to scream on a white couch about all the bottled-up thoughts stuck in my head. And I don’t want her to see me as a freak. As someone to fix, or pity.
No. I want her to see me the way I see her.
With love in her eyes.
I swallow down the knot forming in my throat and answer. “Hopeful.” Regretful. “If you could do anything right now, what would you do?”
Her glistening eyes narrow, and after a minute, she sighs. “Eat popcorn. If you could do anything right now, what would you do?”
My breath catches in my throat. A fucking reaction. I know that’s what she wants—what she always wants, yet I can’t help but wish a piece of her really means it. Clearing my throat, I force myself to stay focused. Just one more question. “I’d be balls deep in someone.”
Her jaw clenches and relaxes three times before she smirks and flicks a stray chip of paint off the desk. “I’d feel bad for the girl on the receiving end of that. Probably the smallest three inches she’s ever seen and the worst two minutes of her life.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but three inches is enough to reach the G-spot, isn’t it?”
Her mouth pops open, but she clicks her tongue in annoyance to cover her surprise. “I don’t have anything extra today. Are we done?”
The question slips out before I can stop it. “What are we doing here, Lily?”
Her small head tilts sideways, brows pulling together like she’s genuinely confused. It’s the face she used to make when we were younger. When she was caught doing something and couldn’t lie to me about it because I know her tell—cherry red ears.
My heart feels heavy, and there’s a slight hitch in my breath, but Lily doesn’t seem to notice. She untenses her face and leans back, hands folded deftly on her knee. “We aren’t doing anything.”
“Don’t play stupid. We’re playing this little back and forth game like two pawns on a chessboard,” I snap, ignoring the thrum of my pulse at the back of my throat.
She forces a laugh, a thick vein protruding from the side of her smooth neck. “Spence, please. I’m the queen in this game. I’m just biding my time before I wipe you off this board and claim checkmate.”
The way she says it so simply, like it’s as easy as saying the sky is blue, boils the blood coursing through me. “What the fuck happened to you?”
Lily jerks back, her eyes widening as she shoves a deep red stiletto nail into her sternum. “Me? Look at you. Mister, I don’t give a fuck what everyone thinks.” When her finger turns on me, a pink indent remains on her skin. “You come to school with your hair slicked back, a tight shirt on, and think you’re suddenly the shit?”
“That’s not what I’m talking about, Lil—”
“Then what are you talking about? Please, let me know.”
“You’re a bitch. And a fucking bully—”
Her sudden cackle surges across the table, thumping into my ego with the force of a cannon. “Bully? Are you five? Can you really not take what I’ve dished out?”
I throw my hands up, defeat leaving a sour taste in my mouth, compelling me to spit it out. “It’s not that I can’t take it. It’s that the person on the giving end used to be…”
The burn prickling the back of my eyes forces my mouth to clamp shut. The heat expands in my head, making me dizzy. I squeeze my eyes closed and pinch the bridge of my nose, willing the ache away. I can’t fucking do this.
Hold fast, hold steady.
“Used to be what?” It’s just a whisper, but something that sounds a lot like hurt lines her words.
“Be my best friend,” I finish.
When I open my eyes, Lily’s are on me. She blinks twice before gazing down. Her knotted fingers twist back and forth, palms digging into her thigh. I can tell she wants to say something. Tell me the thing I’m clearly fucking missing…
But she doesn’t.
Two seconds pass, and the mask is back, guarding her while shielding me from seeing her. Her delicate features become impassive again, and she shifts in her chair, gripping the once tucked necklace in her hand. “Are we done?”
“Yes.”
No.
She doesn’t skip a beat, standing and throwing her bag over her shoulder. I want to yell, to grab her around the waist and beg her to talk to me. Tell me what happened. Explain why we are so content being just strangers that know each other’s secrets.
Why we are okay with hating each other.
But like her, I don’t. Instead, I watch Lily walk out the door like the coward I’ve always been when it comes to her.
Because no matter what I say, she’ll still leave, and I’ll still let her.
I stare at the flyer clutched in my hands.
That’s me. Naked and handcuffed to Lily’s bed. My face is blurred out and my dick has been photoshopped, but the message at the bottom is clear enough for anyone to guess its owner.
The dog of Emerald
Falls may be lacking, but he’ll make up for it with his submissiveness.
Of course, she did this. Why not? There is no bar too low for her.
“Did you see the mascot they had tattooed on your thigh?” Remy’s voice teems with irritation, her little face turning red as she nods to the paper.
At this point, Remy isn’t surprised by anything Lily does anymore. But she says the pieces aren’t adding up. She claims Lily is lashing out. Though from what, I can’t care to guess because honestly, she’s the one who hurt me. Lily is the person who changed, who shut me out, told me to stay in Idaho, and ended our friendship.
My head begins swimming, making me dizzy, forcing me to sink into her fluffy futon.
Remy pats me on the shoulder before collapsing next to me. “I mean, it’s obvious the picture was doctored.”
I huff, scrubbing my hands over my face. “Yeah, but I don’t think that was the big turnoff. It must have been the fun little caption. Every date canceled.”
Remy’s bright eyes widen, and her mouth creates a perfect O. “I mean, forget them, right? Obviously, they weren’t worth your time.”
“Remy, I could really use a distraction, someone to sink my dic—”
“I’m going to go wash my ears out, be right back.” She shoves her shoulder into mine and stands, dramatically walking toward the door.
“Oh stop. That shit you read in the romance novels is ten times worse,” I deadpan.
She flushes a deep fuchsia almost immediately, releasing the doorknob and wrapping her arms around herself. A tightness tugs across my chest. Shit.
“I’m not judging you, Remy. I was just saying it’s not like you haven’t heard it.”
Her bashful gaze meets mine, and a smile spreads slowly across her face. The laughter she’d been holding in spills out, bouncing off the walls. It’s a sweet sound, light and infectious, coercing a chuckle from me easily.
“You were messing with me?”
“Of course. I know what I read. It’s called smut.” She flops back down, grabbing the paper from my hand. “Not as entertaining as this, though. I just wanted you to smile a little.”
I roll my eyes, letting my head fall back. “I’m not her enemy.”
“But she doesn’t seem to know that. For her, you are, and she’s going to win if you don’t figure out what game you’re playing.”
My hands curl into fists before I unclench them and dig the pads of my palms into my eyes. “It seems like chess, and according to her, I am just a pawn.”
Remy’s brows knit together, and she chews on the inside of her bottom lip. After a few seconds, her hazel eyes narrow. “Okay, so your original lie of why she was bothering you may hold some truth.”
“Huh?”
She grunts, waving a hand around. “I’m saying. She obviously got put in our class for a reason. Maybe something to look good on her transcript? So she could be using you for that.”
“Yeah, but she said she was waiting to call a checkmate.”
“That’s the part about your past. You’re missing something, Spencer. No eighteen-year-old girl is going to go out of her way to do all this.” She points to the flyer. “Unless she’s been hurt. Bad.”
“Remy.” I gaze back at the ceiling, following a path in the textured paint. The hollowness in my chest is back, expanding into my gut.
If I knew what I did, I wouldn’t hesitate to fix it. Even though I despise who she is now and can’t stand the feelings my fucking body goes through from just seeing her, I would try. Because Remy is right. This isn’t Liliana. No one changes this drastically without a catalyst.
I shouldn’t care. The logical side of my brain is screaming for me to let it go, not to look into things anymore. What’s done is done, and there’s no coming back from how far she and I have fallen.
But then there’s my heart. As torn and broken as it is, its beats are strong, thrumming through my body with any thoughts of her. It consumes me with a raw passion I can feel from the shell of my ear to the tips of my toes.
So while I may hate the girl with damn near every fiber of my being, I want to set things right.
Maybe then, I can let her go.
TWENTY THREE
There’s a horrendous flutter in my stomach, sloshing around the three cups of coffee I drank this morning to keep myself awake. I stayed up all night, nerves still in shambles from my meeting with Spencer, and anxiety whips through me as I clean the house again for the fifteenth time.
All I thought about were his eyes. The caramel swirling around his chocolate irises as he looked at me with a strange sort of curiosity. Like he doesn’t know that everything we are now is a result of him.
I almost told him. Almost broke down and exposed how weak and messed up I am over it. Because I am hurt. I’m pissed and even worse, my heart still doesn’t know whether to beat or stop when he’s near me.
My eyes flicker across the backyard to the dark house behind mine, and a familiar tightness pulls across my chest before I rip my gaze away.
I can’t allow myself to think too deeply for too long.
Sighing, I fluff the navy pillow one more time, double-checking to make sure everything is perfect.
My aunt Mina’s flight is coming in today. Actually… I glance at the stove clock, and my pulse stutters. Shit.
Her flight’s already landed, and since she refused to let me pick her up, her Uber could be here any damn second.
Taking the steps two at a time, I fly up the stairs and into the bathroom. When I look in the mirror, it’s hard not to cringe at my appearance. The shiner my mom gave me last week is now a ghost of a bruise, leaving a tint of green that’s easy enough to cover. A little dry shampoo and a messy bun take care of my hair problem. But the red rim surrounding my eyes will have to be blamed on my contacts if she asks.
But she might not. Why would she? My nerves start to tingle again. What if she does?
I remember when I was young, around seven, and we would video chat, she would ask me about anything and everything.
“You look so pretty. Did you put that yellow bow in your hair?” My aunt’s face fills the small screen, her grin stretching from ear to ear.
I beam my biggest, proudest smile, not even worrying about my missing top tooth. “Yes! I even did the braid, Aunt Mina. I watched a video on it!”
“Ah, mija, you did so well. Muy buena. ¿Dónde está tu mamá?”
Peering over the iPad, I make sure Dad isn’t anywhere near me. Shrugging, I wipe away the sudden gush of tears, burning my eyes. “Her room. Like always.”
“Do you know where you are yet?”
I shake my head before my father calls from the kitchen that it’s time for bed.
I never understood what she meant when she would ask that. When she first asked me about it, I would always tell her home. But then she would prod with more questions like street names or the name of my school. She even wanted me to describe my neighborhood.
I’ve been looking for you for thirteen years.
It still doesn’t make complete sense, and I feel like I’m putting together a puzzle with only my sense of touch. I can’t see the overall picture, but the pieces are beginning to lock into place.
Tugging the oversized sweater over my head, I turn to the bathroom door just as the bell rings.
She’s here.
With shaking hands, I clutch the stair railing and descend as slowly as possible. The door feels so big in comparison to my hand as I grip the cold metal knob and turn. It swings open with the cold breeze, letting snow flurries dance inside the threshold.
My aunt Mina stands in the middle of the door, wrapped in so many layers, I can’t make out her face, and she has a small suitcase by her side. A bubble of nervous laughter spills from my mouth as I take a step back. “Aunt Mina?”
The triple-wrapped figure shakes and moves sluggishly inside. Her voice is muffled, but I’d know it anywhere. “Si, now help your dear old aunt. I’m liable to get frostbite out here!”
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I giggle again, wiping my slick hands on my jeans before moving to grab a padded arm. I help her through the foyer and shut the door, then pry the luggage from her frigid grasp. It’s an odd meeting, but it’s much less awkward, which eases my pulse a little.
“It’s not that cold.”
She huffs, using her marshmallow-puffed arms to unwrap her three scarfs. “I have never seen snow my entire life. All these jackets are from the airport store.”
Laughing, the wound muscles in my neck seem to relax. She was always good at weird situations, had a way of taking them and inserting her charismatic charm to pacify even the worst circumstance.
I help her unzip the four types of jackets. Each one shed makes the rush of blood in my ears impossibly loud.
Down jacket.
Parka.
Fleece.
Body warmer.
When I finally reach the warm body of my aunt, a fire hits the back of my throat.
Her burnt honey eyes are the same as I remember, tucked behind small glasses that frame her heart-shaped face. Her beautiful olive skin is without one wrinkle, except the two little crow’s feet at the corners of those stunning eyes. Her perfect ruby lips stretch into a smile, and when I look back up, I see a trail of tears making a path through the light dusting of her blush.
We both pause, but then, as if not a second of time has passed between us, she grabs me, embracing me in a type of hug I’ve long forgotten. I melt into her, wrapping my arms around her back and squeezing until the muscles in my forearms quiver. The combination of everything that’s happened with Spencer and me, my shitty parents, and my lack of sleep overwhelm me, letting the walls I’ve built crumble on impact. The sobs rip through my body, and I grip her tighter, scared if I let go, she might disappear like everyone else.
Right now, I’m not Lily, nor the captain of the cheer squad, or even the Queen of Emerald Falls. I’m the five-year-old little girl, holding on to her aunt for dear life, so I don’t have to move to the opposite side of the map with people that don’t even love me.
