“Miss Harper, a word please.”
Waiting for everyone else to leave, I leaned against the nearest table to the door.
“How have things been?” he asked once we had privacy.
“Okay, considering,” I said, not knowing where this was leading.
“You’ve been absent quite a lot this semester and missed a lot of work. Even with your makeup work, you’re still cutting it close. You’re going to have to not slack off on your final paper if you expect to pass this class.” He looked at me gravely.
Way to encourage, professor. “I know, Professor Harris. I’ve actually been working on my final paper since the beginning of the semester. I don’t think you can see how you have changed unless you know what you were like to begin with,” I said, not sure if that was a good direction I had started in.
He looked at me proudly. “Not bad. Interesting take, Miss Harper, and I can’t wait to read the finished product.”
“Thank you,” I said, and he nodded, indicating the conversation was over.
The rest of my professors either didn’t care that I had missed so much class and was hanging on by a limb, or they were still letting me slide on the whole “lost both my parents this year” card because no one else said anything to me about my finals.
I went to the pharmacy on my way home and picked up Opal’s prescription. I dropped the medication off, along with the instructions to take them in the morning—every morning, no exceptions. Once she told me she had it and she wasn’t an invalid, she shooed me away and I went home to work some more on my final for creative writing.
Looking back to where I started writing at the beginning of the semester, I had changed. Everything that I thought I knew about my world had changed, and in turn, that changed me. I no longer looked at life the same. I didn’t have some miraculous spiritual revelation about how life is precious and to not take it for granted like normal people who experience death do. But I did know that life was like those pudding cups Opal liked so much—messy but oh so good, and sometimes you needed a break from it. And, like Opal, I learned that you have to “always carry a spoon,” to dig in and enjoy it. As I finished my paper with these words, I was thinking I was going to be like Opal after all, just not in the way everyone was thinking.
Since Aria’s play was so close, she had rehearsal every night until the play, so I was home alone until then, which was fine. It left me with being able to catch up on my other work and studying for the rest of my finals. I put the finishing touches on my creative writing paper before getting hungry and fixing a quick sandwich. Going back to my room, I took a giant bite and walked in right as my phone started ringing.
“Hwoo?” I said around a mouthful of sandwich.
“Dacey?” asked Justin on the other end.
I swallowed loudly. “Sorry. Hey, Justin.”
He chuckled for what must be the millionth time. “Sounds like I interrupted your dinner?”
“If you consider a sandwich dinner, then yes, yes you did.”
“Oh, come on, SB. You can do better than that for dinner.”
I took another bite and chewed before I spoke. “I’m sure I could, but I don’t really feel like making something more,” I said nonchalantly, ignoring to myself how I was liking the nickname more and more.
“I see. Listen, I wanted to bring Aria flowers for her performance. What kind should I bring?” he asked.
“You really are a nice guy, huh?”
“Shhh, don’t tell anyone. I try and cover it up with my bad boy at night, cop by day persona.”
“Yeah, what’s up with that anyway? You don’t look like a cop.” I shoved the last bit of my sandwich in my mouth, waiting for him to explain. This had been something I had been wondering about since I had seen him in plain clothes.
“What is a cop supposed to look like?” His voice sounded amused.
“I don’t know. Cookie-cutter, straightlaced type. Not like you.”
“And how do I look?” He seemed to be enjoying this way too much.
“Not the cookie-cutter, straightlaced type. You have this whole reformed bad boy thing going on.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m reformed.”
“So what’s your story?” I asked, intrigued now.
“No, no, Dacey, this is your story now.”
I could tell he was shaking his head. “If we are going to be friends, JP, I should know more about you. You practically know my life story already, and I don’t even know if you have a middle name,” I said hotly.
“Easy, SB, my story is long and boring. And it’s all about you now, not me,” he said, his voice hard all of a sudden.
“But there is a story, right?” I asked, not wanting to be too nosy.
“Yeah, there is a story,” he sighed.
“Will you tell it to me one day? Please?” I asked tentatively.
“Sure, I’ll tell you,” he conceded, then added, “It’s Dylan, by the way.”
“Dylan?” I asked, confused.
“My middle name,” he said simply and left it at that.
Tucking that piece of information away in my brain for later use, I wanted to take the seriousness out of the conversation, so I told him about Opal’s diagnosis and also what happened at school today with Kelly.
“Wow, that was a big step for you. How do you feel?”
“Good, actually. I’m not mad at her. I know I’m supposed to hate her or something because she’s his next, but I don’t. I pity her because I feel she may be the next me. That’s why I said what I said, because no one should have to feel what I felt,” I said with conviction.
“How do you think he will react?”
“Oh, he’ll be pissed.” I laughed humorlessly.
“Do you need me there?” he asked darkly.
“No, Trevor wouldn’t hurt me. He’ll just yell.”
“I’ve seen yelling turn into more.”
“Even in our most heated arguments, the most he has done was bang his fists into a wall. Besides, he wouldn’t come here. He probably thinks Tina is still here with throwing stars or something.” I laughed.
Justin didn’t seem to think it was a joking matter. “I’m serious, Dacey. If you need me, just call. I don’t care what time it is. I’ll come.”
“JP, you’re forty-five minutes away,” I pointed out. Even if I were in trouble, the boys at the Shaddy Groves Police Department would have to do.
“I’m a cop. I could get there in twenty minutes,” he promised.
“Good to know, but I’ll be fine. Really.”
After swearing ten more oaths that I would call if I needed anything and triple-checking the locks with him on the phone—really?—he finally let me hang up, saying he would see me Saturday.
Lying back on my bed, I thought it was sweet that he was so concerned for my safety, but I was intrigued and a little apprehensive. I had already let him in my life so much, he knew so many personal things about me, and I knew nothing about him except his middle name was Dylan and that he had trusting, autumn-colored eyes.
My phone awakened me early the next day, alerting me of a text from Trevor saying we needed to talk.
Rolling over, I rubbed my eyes to make sure I read the message correctly. He must have spoken with Kelly about our little chat. To be honest, I had thought he would have just let it go, knowing how much it would hurt me to see him, but I guess either he was that pissed or he just didn’t care. Deleting the text message, I looked at the screen on my phone and saw that it was going on eight fifteen. Shit! I was going to be late for the last day of class. Throwing myself out of bed, I ran to the bathroom and rushed through my morning routine, threw on some clothes, and was out the door in fifteen minutes flat on my way to the last creative writing class.
I slid in my chair ten minutes after Professor Harris had started his lecture, but by now, he was used to it and barely paid me any attention. At this point, what was he going to say, anyway? Kelly, on the other hand, tried to catch my eye, which I avo
ided at all costs.
I had just placed my phone on silent when I received an incoming text message from Justin asking again what kind of flowers to get for Aria, and it dawned on me I never did tell him last night. I replied with a smile telling him anything pink.
I put my phone away, thinking Aria would be thrilled with the flowers. I hadn’t seen her this morning or last night. I assumed she had arrived late and gone early because of the play, which she was still being super-secretive about. I took out my phone again just to check on her, to which she called me a “worry Wanda” and told me she was fine. Worry Wanda? Where does she come up with this stuff?
Putting my phone away, I focused on what was left of the class. When it was over, I made my way out through the crowd of people to turn in my final.
“I’m looking forward to it, Miss Harper. Have a great summer,” Professor Harris nodded as I handed in my final and walked out the door.
* * *
“Dacey! Wait up,” Kelly yelled.
I didn’t wait to see what she wanted. Just because I wasn’t mad at her didn’t mean I wanted to hang with her and braid each other’s hair.
I got to my other class without her catching up to me and didn’t run into her the remainder of the day. I did, however, get five more text messages from Trevor and a missed call. Man, he was pissed. The messages ranged from “I’m not going away until we talk” to “Why did you say that shit to Kel?” They were on to nicknames, great. The last one I deleted was his personal best: “don’t fuck this up 4 me because u can’t let go.”
Wow, he actually went there. When I thought earlier that I couldn’t hate him and I was never going to move on because he had a piece of my heart, I was wrong. Turns out, hate is a strong-ass motivator for getting over someone and getting your heart back. And Trevor was shoveling pieces of it back to me with each hateful text message and phone call I received. It showed me he really didn’t mean the “I love you’s” he said the whole year and a half we were together.
By the time I got home, I was so pissed off and ready to hit something—anything with a face remotely looking like Trevor’s would do—that I went inside to find something to do to burn off some steam. I hadn’t been in Mom and Dad’s room since my mini-hiatus in there, and I knew it needed to be cleaned, so I went in and stripped the sheets from the bedding and the pillowcases and threw it all in the washing machine. Then I got the vacuum and the duster and got to work on the furniture and the floor. I became so involved in what I was doing, I didn’t even notice the time. When I heard the doorbell, I looked up and saw it was exactly six fifteen.
“Shit,” I said as I was putting away the vacuum cleaner.
“Hey, come on in,” I said, opening the door for Justin, who was wearing his normal snug fitted jeans with boots, but instead of a band tee, he wore a fitted collared shirt, and his muscles bulged from the sleeves. Seriously, did he not own bigger shirts? Not that I minded.
“Okay, I’m seriously overdressed,” he said, noting my now-dirty clothes and messy hair.
“I’m sorry. I was cleaning out my parents’ room and lost track of time. Ten minutes?” I asked, chastising myself for loosing track of time.
“Sure, SB, but you’d better hurry. I’m sure Aria will be upset if you’re not there.” He chuckled.
I ran to my room, took a quick shower, and threw on a pair of skinny jeans and a layered, fitted V-neck tee with some flats and earrings Mom got me last year for my birthday. I was ready in ten minutes and met Justin in the living room.
“You weren’t kidding when you said ten minutes.”
“I had a dry run this morning,” I said, then began to tell him about my morning as we headed out the door. I stopped dead in my tracks as I eyed the car in the driveway.
“Is that what we are driving?” I asked, awed.
He smiled proudly, “Yes, you like?”
“Is this yours?” I asked, going over to the 1969 black Pontiac GTO that my dad would have drooled over.
“Yes. It belonged to my father, and I restored it.” He opened the door for me, and I got in.
“I thought the cruiser was your car,” I asked stupidly.
“It is, for work and other things. But this is my car. My baby.” He rubbed the steering wheel. “I didn’t know you liked cars,” he said, eyeing me sideways.
“I don’t, actually. My father owns—well, I guess I own—a mechanic shop. Has all my life. Sometimes just to get him to talk to me, I would talk about cars, then I just stopped trying after awhile and, well...” I trailed off, not wanting to remember those days.
“Yeah, you mentioned he owned a shop when you were telling me about the will, but you never mentioned what kind.”
“He lived and breathed cars for twentysomething years, and this car...” I paused. “What are the chances you have his favorite car,” I said, chuckling to myself at how life seemed to work.
“That is what’s called fate.”
“My mom would have called it serendipity,” I mused.
“It’s that too,” he said as he pulled out of the driveway. “Where am I going?”
I gave him directions to the college, and we talked a little on the way there. I told him about the messages from Trevor, and his knuckles gripped the steering wheel tighter but he didn’t say anything. Then I told him that Mr. Eugene wanted to take us out to eat after Aria’s play and he was welcome to come along if he didn’t have any plans.
“Now, why would I turn down free food?” he joked forcefully.
“Good point.” I laughed.
Once we got in the parking lot of the college, I directed him to park in the visitors’ section of the auditorium, and we got out and made our way in. My phone buzzed as soon as I walked in the door with a message from Aria, telling me that the tickets were with the man at the door and her reserved section was C.
I looked up to find her and saw her peeking from behind the curtain. She gave me a nervous wave and closed the curtain back.
I went over to the guy sitting at the door with a metal box and a sheet of paper with names on it. I told him we were family and gave him Aria’s name, and he handed me seven tickets and pointed me in the direction of section C. As we made our way over to the section, a familiar form blocked my path and I froze.
“Dacey, we need to talk,” Trevor said, looking determined.
I thought seeing him again would be like a blow to the chest, taking my breath away, and that the feeling in my stomach would make me want to crawl back in my cave again and cry. But after the realization today, I felt none of that. Yes, there was a twinge because Trevor was familiar, but he no longer held my heart.
“I think it’s pretty obvious I don’t need to talk to you, Trevor,” I said, trying to sidestep him, but he matched my movements.
“Dude, watch it,” Justin said from behind me, and I felt the heat radiating off his body. He was ready to pounce on Trevor, that much was apparent.
Trevor’s eyes flicked up momentarily at JP and back to me. “You again. What’s up with the police escort?” he asked mockingly.
“Apparently, assholes like to stalk me,” I shot back.
“I’m not stalking you. You wouldn’t answer my calls or texts.”
“I don’t have to anymore. Didn’t you get the memo? You wrote it.”
He closed his eyes as if trying to get patience, then said, “Why did you say all that stuff to Kel?”
Don’t sound like the jealous ex, don’t sound like the jealous ex, I kept telling myself. “Because ‘Kel’ should know what a dick you are,” I said.
His eyes flashed with anger, and within a millisecond, Justin placed himself in between us.
“Look, rent-a-cop, this has nothing to do with you. I came to talk to Dacey, not some RoboCop wanna be,” Trevor said to Justin.
“Call me what you want. I’m still a better man than you will ever be,” Justin said calmly.
“You’re a better man because you’re a cop?”
“No, I’m a
better man because I would’ve cherished the hell out of her, not used her until you were sure you weren’t in love, then left her when she needed you the most, you sorry fuck,” he growled.
Trevor looked over Justin’s shoulder at me. “You told him?” he asked, incredulous.
“Was it a secret?” I challenged, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Some things should be kept between a—”
“A what, Trevor? A guy and his dumpee? I don’t think so,” I cut him off. “Look, I said what I said, and I’m not taking it back, and I’m not sorry for it, just like you’re not sorry for what you said, just how it went down. So please move,” I said firmly.
He contemplated for a minute, then moved to the side, and Justin moved so could I walk by. I was walking past Trevor when he grabbed my forearm to stop me, causing Justin to grab Trevor’s free arm and twist it up behind his back.
“Don’t fucking touch her. You lost your right to touch her. Ever,” he said, his mouth to Trevor’s ear.
It wasn’t crowded enough yet in the auditorium to cause a scene, but the few people who were in there were starting to look over.
“Ah! Dude, let me go. I was just going to tell her sorry.” Trevor struggled against Justin after immediately dropping my forearm.
“JP, let him go,” I hissed.
Justin shoved him away and gave him a hard look before he turned his gaze to me and asked with a softening tone, “Did that asshole hurt you?” He lifted my arm where Trevor had grabbed it.
Honestly, I hadn’t even felt when Trevor had grabbed me, and Justin’s reaction to it freaked me out more than the whole situation.
“I’m fine. I barely felt it. Let’s just go sit down.” I motioned for Trevor to move, which he had the self-preservation to do, and I shoved Justin forward into section C and found a seat, leaving Trevor in the aisle looking shocked and rubbing his shoulder. I didn’t say a word to Justin for about two minutes because, frankly, I didn’t know what the hell just happened. What was I supposed to say to that? Thank you for defending my honor and almost breaking my ex-boyfriend’s arm off for touching me? It did seem kind of extreme, but then again, he is a cop, so maybe he saw a threat that I didn’t see with my untrained eye.
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