by Kasie West
Outside, the halls were now almost empty, but he continued to hold my hand, like I needed a guide.
“I’m sorry to make you leave class. I didn’t know who else to go to,” I said.
“You chose well,” he responded.
The second he said those words, the tears I’d somehow managed to hold in began pouring down my face.
He clenched his jaw and squeezed my hand.
“I don’t want to be here.”
“I know. Where do you want to be?”
“I don’t know.”
He led me out to the parking lot, where I pointed out my car.
“Not spoiled, huh?” he said, obviously trying to make me laugh. The most I could manage was a smile.
I handed him my keys, and he drove us away from the school.
“Your house?” he asked.
“I want to go far away from here,” I said.
“Okay.” He flipped a U-turn at the next stoplight and headed for the freeway.
He drove for about an hour, neither of us saying much, before he pulled off the freeway and into the parking lot of a state beach. It was a weekday in October, so there were only a few other cars there, which I assumed belonged to the surfers I could see bobbing in the waves in the distance.
“This is the beach my parents used to take us to a lot.” He put the car in park, turned it off, and got out. I followed him to a bench that faced the ocean, where we both sat down. We watched the waves roll in. One of the surfers caught one and rode it until it fizzled.
The breeze blew hair across my face, and I tucked it behind my ears. My brain wouldn’t shut off, my eyes stinging with the thoughts. “Amanda hates me.”
“What?” he asked.
In sobs and hiccups, I summarized talking to the security guards and searching Amanda’s trailer. His face displayed the shock and sympathy he felt. When I was done, I pulled my knees up to my chest and buried my face in them. “I just want to do my job. I don’t understand why people are trying to stop me from doing that. I guess I’m unlikable.”
“Lacey,” he said. When I didn’t lift my head, he softly said, “Lace.”
I turned my head toward him so that now my cheek rested on my knees. My tears dripped sideways, over the bridge of my nose, and continued down the other side of my face.
“I’m sorry,” he said. He put his hand on my back, as if he had no idea what to do. I had no idea either. “You are very likable.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t think it was Amanda.”
“I’d hoped it wasn’t her.”
“Back at your school . . . people knew me.”
He smiled a little. “You’re getting famous.”
“This isn’t how it was supposed to happen. People weren’t supposed to know me for something negative.”
“I know.”
Fresh tears followed the same trail. I sat back and looked up at the sky, trying to stop them. I hated crying when I wasn’t trying to. “But honestly, I don’t care about that as much as I do about what Amanda did. I thought we were friends. She made it seem like we were friends. Maybe everyone just puts on an act.” I looked at Donavan. “Are we even friends?”
He slid closer to me and took my face in his hands. He used his thumbs to wipe beneath my eyes. “Of course we’re friends.”
“Maybe I’ve been living in this world of fake emotions for so long that I don’t even know what real ones are.”
He brought my face closer to him and kissed my forehead. “You know what real emotions are,” he whispered.
There was something so comforting about that action that I pushed my forehead against his lips again and he complied with another kiss there. Then I lifted my eyes to his. He paused, his mouth lingering near mine, his hands still holding my face. This felt real. I was done thinking, and I didn’t wait for him to analyze this either. Because I knew he would analyze this, and I knew he’d come to the wrong conclusion: that now might not be the right time for this. I took a breath and pressed my mouth against his.
Maybe he wouldn’t have come to the wrong conclusion, because he didn’t hesitate at all, he kissed me back. He kissed me like this wasn’t the first time the idea had occurred to him. And for the first time that day, I was able to forget about everything but that moment—his hands, now in my hair, his mouth moving across mine, my hands, pressed against his chest, feeling his heart hammering fast. My heart sped to match the pace, taking my breath away.
He groaned and pulled back. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Please don’t be. Not for that.” That was the most real kiss I’d ever experienced. Amanda would’ve called it my first kiss. It felt that way, because nothing before it even came close.
He closed his eyes and brought me into a hug. I draped my legs over his lap and leaned my head against his chest as he held me.
“So do you think Amanda leaked that story to the press too?” he finally asked.
“Yes. I do.”
He hummed a little.
“What should I do?”
“We’ll figure something out.”
I tightened my arms around him. “You’re the best.”
“How long have you thought so? Just today?”
I laughed. “At least since that time we talked on the phone and you blew me off.”
“I didn’t blow you off, I . . .” He trailed off like he wasn’t going to or didn’t want to finish that sentence.
I sat back and looked at him. I was sure my face was red and blotchy and my eyes were puffy, but he’d seen me in all stages of horrible, so I didn’t really care. “You don’t date actresses.”
“That was part of it. And I work for your dad.”
“Hey, my dad is dating my makeup artist, so he has no room to talk.” Well, my ex–makeup artist now.
He smiled and shook his head. “You’re Lacey Barnes. Famous,” he said, using my words against me. “It’s just that I shared a lot with you that day on the phone, and I was convinced you were very close to becoming bored with me.”
“You’re not boring.”
“Not yet.”
“Are you saying we’re a bad match? We’re a worse match than a zombie and zombie hunter. An actress and a critic.”
“Yes,” he said.
“Do you really think so?”
He ran a thumb along my bottom lip and then kissed it. “Yes. But apparently I’ve abandoned all good judgment, so I might not be a critic for long.”
Twenty-Nine
We sat on that bench for a while. The breeze coming in off the ocean was starting to make it cold. We’d outlasted the surfers and our cell phone batteries when Donavan said, “Should we head back?”
“Do we have to?” I wasn’t sure what time it was without my cell phone, but going by the sun, it was probably late afternoon. I wasn’t exactly an expert on telling the time from the position of the sun though.
“Your dad is probably worried.”
“He won’t be expecting me until ten o’clock tonight.”
“Well, my mom probably started worrying the second the attendance line called saying I missed school today.”
“I’m sorry about that again.”
“I wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty.” He stood, my legs sliding off his lap as he did. “Let’s at least move to the car. You’re shivering. I have a phone charger in my backpack. I can see how in trouble I am.” He held out his hand for me.
I took it, letting him help me to my feet. He could charge his cell phone; I really didn’t want to charge mine. I was done on set for the day, so I had nobody looking for me.
He kept hold of my hand as we walked to the car. “You still want me to drive?”
“Will you?”
“For sure.” He opened the door for me, and I slid in. Then he climbed in on the driver’s side and started the car, turning on the heat. He connected his phone. He put his finger up as if telling me to hold on, then reached into his bag again and pulled out a hoodie. He passed it across the
center console to me. “It might smell like paper or dry-erase marker or something, but it’s warm.”
I had my own hoodie in the back, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. I pulled it on. It didn’t smell like anything but Donavan. A smell I didn’t realize I knew until that moment.
He tried to turn on his phone, but it didn’t have enough battery power to do that.
“We can go,” I said.
“Do you . . . ?” He paused, hesitating for a moment. “I mean, what if we just went back to my house? If you don’t want to go home yet, I mean.”
I nodded. “Sounds good.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, good.”
I looked at the ocean as he pulled out of the parking lot. I felt tired. I leaned my head up against the window and watched the world outside pass by in a colorful blur. He must’ve known I was past talking, because it was a silent car ride. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but eventually my eyes drifted closed.
When I woke up, everything was still. It took me a minute to reorient myself and another minute to realize I had woken up because Donavan’s hand was gently shaking my shoulder. “Hey,” he said. “We’re here.”
I lifted my head, my neck screaming in protest at the weird angle it had been in for the last hour. I rubbed at it and looked at the house in front of me. It was a small home in a neighborhood full of houses that looked exactly the same. The yard was nice: some bright pink and purple flowers in a window box, neatly trimmed grass, stepping stones carving a path to the front porch. It looked homey. Donavan jumped out of the car, and by the time I’d opened my door, he was around to give me a hand.
He glanced over his shoulder, up at the door, a nervous expression on his face.
“Oh, I didn’t ask, are you in trouble? Had your parents blown up your phone?”
“No, I don’t think my mom realizes yet that I wasn’t at school.”
“Do you need to go warn your parents or your sister that you’re bringing company inside?” I asked, not sure what other reasons he’d have for being nervous.
“No, but I kind of need to warn you.”
“Warn me about what? I’m pretty good with parents.”
“I’m sure you are. No, my sister. She . . .” He narrowed his eyes and studied my face.
“What?” I hadn’t put makeup on after my shower, so I knew my cryfest hadn’t reduced me to a mess of mascara or anything. My hair might have been a bit crazy. When I brushed through it, like I had, my curls were unpredictable. I looked down at my outfit, which was just a pair of jeans, his hoodie, and flip-flops. Not fancy, but not bad either. Was he embarrassed of me?
“She’s a huge fan.”
It took me a second to process those words. “Of me?” I asked, incredulous.
“She loves The Cafeteria more than I do, and she cried when your character died.”
“Your sister, the freshman?”
“Yes, Kennedy.”
“She got attached after four whole episodes?”
“What did I tell you? You were very convincing.”
“You didn’t tell me that.”
“I told you that you were brilliant. That was an all-encompassing compliment.”
“Oh, really? So you can say that you told me anything in the future and it’s covered under the ‘brilliant’ umbrella?”
“Pretty much.”
“I guess I’ll brace myself for this, then.”
“I apologize in advance.”
He headed toward the steps, up to the front door, and I stood there taking in a few breaths and attempting to shake everything that happened today. I put on my happy face. I was about to have an audience—his mom; his sister, my only fan. I needed to be on, not a pathetic mess.
He turned back, one eyebrow raised, his hair tousled from the wind, his skin a healthy glow from the time we’d spent outside. He was adorable. My heart fluttered.
“You coming?” he asked.
“I’m coming.”
He was right to warn me, because even after his warning, I wasn’t expecting his sister’s reaction. At first it was completely normal. We walked into the kitchen, where his sister had spread peanut butter on some bread and was now adding sliced bananas to it.
Donavan looked at me. “Are you hungry?”
Was I? I hadn’t eaten all day, but my stomach felt like a nervous mess.
“Well, obviously,” his sister said, not looking up. “Hence the sandwich.”
“Kennedy, I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Then who were you talking to?” She looked up and immediately met my eyes. I didn’t think she’d recognize who I was so fast, because most people took a moment to process someone out of context, but she must’ve known Donavan had been tutoring me or something because her mouth immediately dropped open.
“Kennedy, this is—” he started to say.
His sister interrupted him with, “I know who she is! I don’t live under a rock.”
I laughed a little. One didn’t have to live under a rock to not know who I was. In fact, there was a very specific set of qualifications people needed to have to actually know who I was. Those included: be related to me in some way, go to Pacific High School, or be a rabid fan of The Cafeteria, apparently. Well . . . at least before the article those were the qualifications. Now . . . “Hi,” I said. “Good to meet you, Kennedy.”
She had stopped topping her peanut butter with bananas and was now shaking her hands out and doing a running motion with her legs. “Donavan! Why would you bring her here without warning me! Look at me. Do I look ready to meet a celebrity?”
“You look fine, Kennedy,” he said, and I nodded my agreement.
“Fine? Fine! Fine is not a good compliment. If you learned this, maybe you’d have a girlfriend.”
Donavan and I exchanged a quick smile.
She sighed a big drawn-out sigh. “Well, I guess it’s too late now, the first impression is over. You will forever know me as the after-volleyball-hair, peanut-butter-and-banana girl.”
“It could be worse,” I said.
“It could?” she asked.
“The first time I met your brother . . . and the second and third for that matter . . . I was decomposing-flesh girl.”
“How is that worse? My brother is not a celebrity. My brother is nobody!”
“Thanks, Kennedy. Love you, too.”
She waved her hand at him. “You know what I mean.”
“Well,” I said. “I think you’re charming. And I’m not a celebrity either so we’re good.”
“I love your hair,” she said. “And you have beautiful skin, I see why that zit cream picked you for their commercial. I’m sorry everyone is being mean to you on the internet lately.”
I sucked in a breath, her last comment catching me off guard.
“Kennedy, she’s trying to forget about that,” Donavan said. “Let’s not bring it up again.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, then her eyes lit up. “You can stay here as long as you want!” She pushed her sandwich toward me. “You should eat this. And we can turn off the internet in the house and watch movies. Or The Cafeteria! Do you want to watch it? I have all six seasons on DVD.”
“Kennedy, she doesn’t want to watch herself on television.”
I shrugged. “I could watch myself on television.”
Kennedy laughed, and Donavan only looked surprised.
“What?” I said. “It’s a good show. You said so yourself.”
His eyes lit up in amusement.
I grabbed hold of his hand and squeezed. “Does that make me a diva?” I asked.
This time he actually chuckled. “Not at all. I’m glad to see your confidence back.”
A gasp sounded, and I turned to see Kennedy’s mouth open again. “Wait,” she said, looking at our clasped hands, then at the hoodie I wore. “Are you two . . . no. Wait, are you?”
I started to say yes when Donavan said, “No, we’re not. Now go turn on the TV
.”
She ran out of the kitchen, and I dropped Donavan’s hand.
“Sorry,” he said. “She’s usually not so excitable.”
“You warned me.”
He pointed at her abandoned sandwich. “Does that appeal to you at all?”
“No, thanks.” I pulled my dead phone out of my pocket. “Do you have a charger I can borrow? I left mine in my trailer.”
“Yes, I’ll go get it.”
He left, and I stood in the kitchen alone. Had I been stupid to think that the kiss on the beach meant something? He’d had an hour while I slept to analyze it over and over again. Had he decided it was a mistake? Had he just done it because he felt sorry for me? Because he was a nice guy? I didn’t need his pity. I didn’t want it either.
Thirty
“I didn’t say you could eat my sandwich,” Kennedy said as we walked into the living room.
After Donavan had plugged my phone into the charger on the kitchen counter, he had put Kennedy’s sandwich on a plate and had already taken three big bites.
“That was for Lacey.”
“I’m okay,” I said.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” he asked around his mouthful.
My stomach was already full of nervous energy, and this new fake-happy face I was now putting on for both Donavan and his sister wasn’t helping at all. “I’m sure.”
Donavan studied my face for a moment and tilted his head as if he was going to call me out on my act, but then he sat down on the center cushion of the couch.
Kennedy popped a DVD out of its case and put it in the player.
I took in the room. There were several seating options. Obviously, a cushion on either side of Donavan, but there was also a love seat and two overstuffed chairs. I thought about taking one of the chairs, but then Donavan would think there was something wrong. He didn’t need to know I was more invested in him than he was in me.
A row of framed pictures along the mantel drew my attention, and I walked over and looked at them. They spanned several years and several locations—Disneyland, the beach, a birthday party. Most of them were of Donavan and his sister, his mom was in a couple, but it wasn’t until the last picture that I saw his dad in one. It was taken right here in this living room. Kennedy was looking up at him in admiration, Donavan wasn’t smiling, and his dad stared straight at the camera, a neutral expression. Not sure this was a picture I would frame, but maybe there weren’t many to choose from.
