by Jenni James
“Blake!” I almost shouted. “Get on with it.”
“I know why Zack broke up with Alyssa.”
I gasped. “You do? Why? What happened?”
“Taylor.”
“Excuse me?”
“Taylor. Taylor broke them up.”
My mind raced with a hundred questions, but I only managed to get two out. “What do you mean? H–how do you know?”
“He told me last night when he came to the hotel after some dance.”
“He told you?” I couldn’t believe it.
“Yeah. Well, okay, it was more like he told Zack. But I could hear every word.”
“How? What did he say? How did it happen?”
“Well, he came in fuming last night. I guess the dance didn’t go like he thought it would. I don’t know. But after his normal rude greeting to me he stomped into his dad’s office and slammed the door.”
I frowned into the receiver.
“Then he came right back out again,” Blake continued, “demanding to know where his dad was. I told him he’d left hours ago and pointed out it was after 11:00 p.m.Taylor seemed really surprised at the time. He even started to laugh.”
He started to laugh?
“After a few seconds, he calmed down a bit. He told me he was looking for his cell phone. He asked if his dad had left it with me or if he’d taken the phone home with him. I told him I hadn’t seen it. Then he stomped back into his dad’s office, and this time he left the door open as he dialed Zack’s number from the office phone, which is how I overheard what he said to Zack. Taylor was totally going on and on about how good it was that Zack had broken up with Alyssa, and how it was a good thing Zack took his advice and listened to him about breaking up with her.”
“But why?” I moaned. “Why would he do that? Did he say?”
“All I could make out from the conversation was that Taylor didn’t like Alyssa. And he definitely didn’t think his friend Zack should, either. After that Taylor must’ve realized the door was wide open because the next thing I heard was it slam shut. About twenty minutes later, Taylor stormed out of the hotel and drove away.”
Oh my gosh.
My heart nearly stopped for Alyssa—my friend who almost always defended Taylor. My friend who would never say a bad word about anyone. To be so insulted by him, and to Zack, of all people. It was horrible. No, it was worse than horrible. It was malicious.
“Chloe?” Blake’s voice on the other end of the phone startled me. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. I’m fine,” I replied. “I’ve just got a headache all of a sudden. I’m going to go, okay? Thanks for letting me know. Bye.” I hung up the phone before I had even heard Blake’s answering farewell.
I began to pace in my room, trying to figure out why Taylor didn’t like Alyssa. Weren’t we all sort of friends? He’d always been nice to her. How could someone be so nice to someone’s face and then so utterly cold behind her back? And to ruin a relationship—that was beyond anything I could bear. The nerve. Taylor Anderson is such a chicken butt!
All at once, the room began to close in on me, and I wanted out. In a fury, I changed from my pajamas into jeans and a T-shirt. I grabbed my slip-on Vans and jacket from the closet and headed out of my bedroom.
Within seconds, I slammed the front door behind me, then ran across the street to our neighborhood park. It was pretty much empty, thank goodness, apart from some boys playing baseball in the adjoining field. So far it was still too early in the morning for little kids to venture outside in late January.
I walked over to my favorite swing and plunked down on it. Then I took off my shoes and watched my feet as they squished in the cold sand. It was really cold sand, but I didn’t care. The sand wasn’t any colder than my heart felt.
Alyssa. Poor Alyssa. Why her? How could Taylor not like her? She is the sweetest, nicest, most wonderful girl in the world. It isn’t fair. She deserves so much better than I do.
“Chloe?”
Jolted from my musings, I looked up into the beguiling blue eyes of Taylor Anderson. I wondered if I was imagining things. “You?” was all I could get out.
“Sorry.” I watched Taylor’s lips move, but it took a moment to comprehend what he was saying. “. . . parked at your house . . . came over when I saw you—”
“Oh.” My voice cracked, and all I could think was, What is he doing here?
“Are you okay? You don’t look so hot.” Taylor’s concern for me frustrated me more.
I was okay until you showed up. “I—I’m fine.” To prove it, I went to stand up, but I had forgotten my shoes were off and I tripped over them in the process. Had it not been for Taylor catching me, I would have landed in an unflattering heap at his feet. Again.
He chuckled in my ear as he wound his arms around me. The side of my face was pressed into his coat. His cologne began to tickle my senses. “Are you sure you’re okay?” His breath stirred the fine hairs above my ear and warmed my cold cheek below it.
He gave such an impression of strength and security. Had I not known what a villain he was, I would’ve been tempted to stay in his arms forever. “Excuse me,” I mumbled as I detached myself from him. Almost as an afterthought I added, “Thank you,” once we were apart.
Taylor stepped back so I could pick up my shoes. In silence, he watched as I sat back on the swing and brushed my feet off before slipping the Vans on again. Then I dusted my hands on my jeans and stood up.
What do you want? I thought, unable to get my mouth to say the words. He just stood there and watched me. Fine. Don’t talk then. In my irritation, I moved away and stood by the large row of steps that led to the slide. I looked out at the boys playing baseball. There were so many things I wanted to tell Taylor, but not now. I needed a few more days before I went all postal on him. Right then I really didn’t want to talk to anyone, least of all him. Maybe he’ll just go away if I ignore him.
The silence loomed for several minutes, and soon I wondered if he had gone. I refused to turn around and see. In fact, my back was still to him when he finally spoke.
“Chloe, I had to come see you.”
I stiffened my back and raised my head in defiance.
“I’m going crazy here,” he said in a frustrated tone. “I can’t sleep, I can’t concentrate in school—everything’s a mess. Listen, I don’t know who that guy was you were dancing with, but please, you’ve gotta hear me out.” I heard a faint mutter and then a ragged sigh before Taylor half whispered, “I—I love you.” It was like a dam had burst. In the next breath he was louder, much louder. “I do. I have loved you from the first time I saw you stomp away from those bleachers three and a half years ago. And trust me, I’ve tried to get over it, always moving on to new girlfriends, pretending like you meant nothing—like I wasn’t in love with you—but I can’t do this anymore. You’re the only girl I want. Chloe, I need you to go out with me.”
In shock, I stood rooted to the ground, facing the same playing field Taylor faced. I knew I had to say something. I lowered my head and contemplated my hands for a moment before I bravely squared my shoulders. Slowly, I turned toward him. He still stood by the swing. His raw uncertainty disarmed me a little as his anguished eyes searched mine for an answer. I knew at that moment that Taylor thought he loved me. But he didn’t, not really. He has never loved me, I decided. He just loves the idea of me—of having the one girl who doesn’t worship the ground he walks on. But I couldn’t love him. I wouldn’t love him. With a deep breath, I braced myself.
“Taylor, thank you.” There, that sounded good. “But no.”
For several long moments, he stared at me, obviously confounded. At first, I wasn’t sure he had heard me. Finally, he spat out, “That’s all you’re going to say? That’s it?” He moved a step closer to the swing and yanked its chain toward him. “You’d think that when a guy bares his soul to a girl at least she would give him a proper reply. Not some stiff, harsh, monotone rejection.” His anger was evident as he punctua
ted each adjective with a jerk of the swing.
Disgusted, I put my hands on my hips. “Proper reply? You mean yes, right?”
“I don’t care what answer you give. Just give me a reason. If you actually have one, that is.”
“Are you kidding me?” I said furiously. “I was only trying to be nice. You want to know what I really think about you? Fine, let me spell out all my reasons. First off, Taylor Anderson, what makes you think I would ever consider becoming the girlfriend of the guy who has crushed one of my best friends? Zack and Alyssa. Can you say it wasn’t you who broke them up? And that you told—no make that commanded—Zack to leave Alyssa?”
Taylor looked confused, then angry. “You better believe I broke them up. I take care of my friends more than I am able to take care of myself. At least I was able to stop him from falling for someone who couldn’t care less about him.”
Jerk! Imbecile! Moron! “But that’s not all!” I blurted. “You know it isn’t. What about Blake Winter—Wilder—your own cousin?”
“Blake? How much has he told you?”
“You tried to get him fired. You’re a jealous, attentionseeking jerk who would try to undermine his own cousin, just so you could have what you wanted, just to make sure no one shared your spotlight.”
“Wow! So that’s what you think of me?” Taylor shook his head. “You don’t really know what’s going on, and you don’t even care. You know why? Because you’re a fraud, Chloe Hart. Yep. You go ahead and stand there and think how much better you are than the popular crowd, but you know what? You’re just as bad as they are. We both know that you’d rather die than admit the only thing stopping you from going out with me is that I’m popular. The next time you’re out somewhere flinging accusations at people, check your double standard first.”
“My double standard?” Look in the mirror, buddy! I stormed up to the swing. It was the only thing separating us as I looked up into his face. “Taylor, you are the most conceited, rudest, most arrogant boy I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. I would never in a million years go out with you. Even if you had never hurt Blake or Alyssa, you’d still be a smug, manipulating jock with no regard for anybody else’s feelings. Never mind morp and getting me to ask you just—just so you could humiliate me. When I first moved here I saw what a complete jerk you were, thinking you owned everything and everyone. Well, you don’t own me, and you never will. I deserve someone much better than you!”
The air positively crackled as the hollow reminder of my words echoed around us. Taylor slowly scanned my face, his eyes a dull gray. I cannot begin to imagine what emotions he saw there.
He took a step back and then another from the swing that separated us. Then he paused before nodding briefly. “Thank you, Chloe. It’s nice to know what someone really thinks of you. Sorry for wasting your time.”
And then Taylor Darcy Anderson walked away.
NINETEEN
A DIFFERENT SIDE
I collapsed into the swing after Taylor was gone, completely bereft of emotion and energy. And then I did what any sensible girl would do in my situation—I leaned my head against the hand holding the swing chain and cried.
It was some time later that I realized how cold I was. Grasping the chains, I lifted myself off the swing. My limbs felt stiff so I wrapped my jacket closer, then stomped to get the blood moving in my legs and feet. With one deliberate step at a time, I slowly made my way back across the sand and onto the concrete sidewalk, then across the street to my house. Down the street to my right I could see Alyssa’s and Madison’s homes. The sun seemed to happily bounce off them, and they represented a beacon of comfort I couldn’t indulge in at present. I walked the rest of the twenty or so yards to my front door with a determination to get on with my day.
The next day, Sunday, my mother saw my peaked and weary face and told me to go back to bed. The rest of the family went to church without me. Before they left, my dad came into my room to see how I was doing. He brought his laptop with him and told me not to tell Mom.
“It’s just so you won’t get cabin fever while we’re gone,” he teased, and then after a moment, he added, “Yesterday, I saw the Anderson boy’s sports car in front of our house for a while. It wouldn’t have anything to do with your hiatus to the park yesterday morning, would it?”
“Well, yeah, it did,” I answered. In a roundabout way.
“Is that boy sweet on you?”
I looked down and shook my head. “Not anymore.” My finger rubbed along the soft nose of the bear I was holding.
“Kicked him to the curb, did ya?” He chuckled.
I tried to smile. “Yeah.”
“Chloe?”
“Yeah?” I looked up at my dad.
“Listen here. I’m not going to make some big speech about popular boys and the nuisance they are, because thankfully you’ve got a better head on your shoulders than that. I know you’re smart enough to make your own decisions, without your dad buggin’ you about them. But there is one thing.”
“Okay?”
Dad took a deep breath. “Don’t go judging people on what you hear alone. I hope you always give every boy who comes here a fair chance to prove himself to you.” He raised his hands. “Now, I’m not saying anything about that Anderson fellow. I don’t know what happened. And by the look of you the past twenty-four hours, I don’t think I want to.” He walked over to my dresser and leaned against it. “But in saying that, I have to point out that Taylor’s a good boy. I’ve seen him around this town helping many folks. And as far as I can see he does it in his free time, too. I’ve personally witnessed him doing everything from shingling widows’ roofs to mowing the lawn at the homeless shelter. He even organized and ran the city’s trash pickup last summer while you were practicing for your play.
“Every time I’ve seen that boy, there’s a smile on his face, until yesterday when he got into his car and drove off. Again, I’m not trying to interfere here. I’m sure you’ve got reason enough to do what you did. Actually, I know you do. You’re a good girl. I’m just saying that if ever you do change your mind, no one’s gonna judge you for it.”
Dumbfounded, I stared at my dad as he rose from the dresser. “Well, I’m off to church. Don’t go all crazy on me now, you hear?” He laughed at his attempt at a joke.
“Thanks, Dad.” I smiled back at him, a little perplexed.
I watched as he winked at me and then shut the door halfway behind him. Then I looked down at the laptop on the end of my bed and smiled ruefully. My daddy loves me.
I really wasn’t feeling well, and I wasn’t quite sure I even wanted to touch the computer. But I was wide awake. All I could think about was that conversation with Taylor. There were so many more things I wished I’d said—and so many I wished I hadn’t. My dad kind of siding with Taylor didn’t make sense to me, either. I mean my dad was an amazing judge of character, and I was surprised he saw Taylor in the same light as the rest of the town.
After about thirty minutes, I couldn’t take the solitude of the house anymore. I flipped open the laptop and let it boot up. I decided to check my email and maybe send a few messages to the people I’d neglected lately.
I was writing a thank-you email to Jordan and Kate when I received a message in my inbox. It was from Taylor. Oh my gosh! How did he get my email address?
Then I remembered the school website contained a list of students’ email addresses—everyone who didn’t mind being part of a public listing, that is. I had put mine on there a couple of years ago. Now that I thought about it, I could’ve probably gotten Taylor’s email address the same way. Not that I needed to—his email address was staring right at me: [email protected].
I was loath to read his email, yet so curious I couldn’t help myself. My heart sped up as I clicked on it. The subject simply read, “Yesterday.”
Once the email loaded, I scanned it and was shocked at how long it was. I settled back against my pillows and the headboard of my bed, then brought the PC close
r to rest on my crossed legs. I read through the letter once and then, agitated, read the whole thing again.
From: Taylor Anderson
Subject: Yesterday
Chloe
Hi. Before you read more, I just wanted to say, don’t be worried that this email is in any way me begging to be with you again. I wouldn’t want to disgust you more. It’s obvious that you’re not into me.
I’ve thought back on our argument yesterday and wanted to email you about the reasons why you’re so mad at me. I think an explanation is needed. I realize now that you never really knew me, or took the time to get to know me. That leads perfectly into your accusations about Blake. My cousin is not the perfect guy you seem to think he is. In fact he’s more a villain than a hero. During high school, Blake was always caught doing something. Drugs, drinking, stealing—you name it, he did it. Then a year ago, Blake went on trial in Colorado for drugging a fifteen-year-old girl and then taking advantage of her. He was eighteen at the time, and she was a minor. The trial went on for a while but nothing was ever proven. Blake got off scot-free, and my family tried their best to keep it under wraps and just forget the whole thing. But no one in Boulder would give him a chance. So his mom (my dad’s sister) called and begged my dad to give Blake a job and a place to live. Hence the job at the hotel, which includes room and board.
Right before your Halloween party, I learned Blake had changed his last name to Winter and that my father had helped finance it so my cousin could make a new start for himself. To say I was livid was an understatement. I went completely ballistic and got in a huge fight over it with my dad. I was concerned that with the changed name, no one would recognize Blake and keep their daughters away from him, just in case he tried something here. Plus there was the added fact that you were seeing him. (I was so worried about you then—you have no idea.) You will probably be mad to learn that I warned Blake off you. I won’t tell you all I said, but it got the message across.
Moving on, I did break up Zack and Alyssa. But I did it to protect my friend. Since sometime last summer, all I have heard about from him in every conversation was the beautiful Alyssa Ming, the cello player. Zack had become so obsessed with her I thought he would lose his mind. He’s kind of uncomfortable around girls —more than me, at least ;). But besides that he’s had a rough time of it since his mom’s death. For almost ten years I’ve watched Zack slowly come out of his shell again. And it wasn’t until Alyssa that I had seen him so happy.
