It was a High School Musical moment: the three hottest girls in school, striding side by side down the middle of the sun-bathed hallway, Nell in the middle, everyone watching her, admiring her, talking about her. And then she stopped right in front of me, smiling at me, saying hi to me, and I was frozen, gaping, stunned.
Someone bumped me from behind, hard, knocking me out of my reverie. Malcolm stumbled past me, coughing. “My bad, bro. I didn’t see you there.” He nodded at Nell and the others. “Hey, whassup girls? Lookin’ fine today, I see. Lookin’ real fine, don’t you agree, Jason?” Malcolm liked to “play up his blackness,” as he put it, especially when he was trying to be funny, which was most of the time.
I glared at him, then turned my attention to Nell. “Hey, Nell. What’s up?” Lame. Lame. So lame.
She grinned at me. “Hi, Jason.”
Becca and Jill had kept walking, stopping at their lockers a few feet away. This spot, the humanities hallway on the first floor near the lunchroom and the adjacent outdoor courtyard, was the prime focal point of our high school’s social world. It was where everything happened. You asked girls out there, you challenged guys to fights there, you broke up there. If you were popular, it was where you hung out and got seen, where the leaders of the various cliques held court. So, of course, being one of the stars of the football team, I had to ask her out there. Nell was popular, but she was the kind of girl who didn’t have a clique. She was cool with everyone, popular because she was beautiful, smart, and the daughter of the second most influential man in our town, second only to Kyle’s dad, and she was Kyle’s best friend. Kyle, of course, was the god of the high school. He was the star quarterback, All-State at sixteen, the son of a senator, and so good-looking it was stupid. He had the perfect life. Best friends with the hottest girl in school, rich, good-looking, popular, athletic, awesome parents. He even had a badass car, a classic Camaro SS his older brother had rebuilt and then left behind when he ran off at seventeen. The only reason I didn’t hate Kyle was that he was my best friend and I’d known him since kindergarten, and I could tell everyone the story of when he peed his pants in third grade and I’d covered for him.
Everyone was watching me. They knew something was going down. Malcolm and Frankie had probably told everyone they knew, which was everyone, that I was asking Nell out, so the whole crowd of “cool kids” was standing in the hallway, not even pretending not to watch.
I couldn’t puss out now. Damn it.
I swallowed the ball of dry nerves and clenched my trembling hands into fists at my sides. “So, Nell. I was thinking. You wanna go out with me tonight? Seven o’clock?” My voice hadn’t shaken or squeaked, and I’d sounded suitably nonchalant.
Nell’s eyes widened and she sucked in a surprised breath, then let out an excited squeal before chomping her teeth together to stop it. “Yes! I mean, yeah, sure. I’d love to. Where are we going?”
I had actually done some prep for this, thank god. “I was thinking Bravo.”
She grinned again. It was an expensive place for high schoolers, and you had to have reservations, especially on a Friday night. I had an agreement with my dad: I would focus on my grades and football, and he’d make sure I didn’t need to work. I got a two-hundred-dollar bonus for every game we won, plus twenty dollars for every touchdown I scored. Our team was undefeated so far this year, and I’d already scored six touchdowns in the four games we’d played.
Yeah. My dad really pushed me to succeed at football. Winning was everything, second only to being “a real man.”
“Don’t you have to make reservations to get in there on Fridays?” Nell asked.
I just grinned cockily and shoved my fist in my hip pocket. “Yep.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “How could you be so sure I’d say yes?”
I grinned even more widely, mainly to cover my hammering heart. “Well, you did, didn’t you?”
She couldn’t hold the serious look for long. “I’ll see you at seven, then.”
I nodded and pushed past her into our classroom, ignoring the hushed whispers. I slumped into my seat in the back by the window and pretended not to see Nell doing the girly whispered freak-out with Becca and Jill. I wanted to have a whispery freak-out myself, but I couldn’t, because I was a man, and men didn’t show emotions.
Nell settled gracefully into her seat a few rows over and in front of me. She set her backpack on the floor beside her foot and bent over to open it, using the opportunity to steal a glance at me, blushing and smiling when she saw me looking right at her. I wondered in the back of my head if she would let me kiss her.
Probably not, but it sure would be cool if she did.
Fortunately for me, Coach made us watch a film instead of running drills. He let Kyle skip the film, knowing Kyle would study it at home on his own. The rest of us weren’t so lucky, so we were stuck watching Brighton games until almost six-thirty.
I’d planned on picking Nell up right after practice anyway, so I’d smuggled some jeans and a button-down shirt in my backpack. The shirt was wrinkled, but there wasn’t much I could do about that. I showered after the guys all left and then hopped into my truck. I’d bought the truck myself, saving my earnings from all of last year’s football season plus my end-of-year straight-A bonus to buy it. It was a ten-year-old F-150, black, long-bed, manual transmission, four-by-four. It was my baby. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. Dad couldn’t and wouldn’t take it away from me no matter what I did, since I’d saved and paid for it myself. He respected that.
He had his own kind of honor, in a warped way. He had no qualms about beating me until I pissed blood, but he respected my space and my things, and he paid my way as long as I earned it. He’d cut short his lessons if I fought back. Of course, the lesson would be shortened via me getting knocked out, but it would be less of a beating, so I’d started fighting back more regularly.
I drove to Nell’s house, my tires crunching on the gravel road. My nerves were wreaking havoc on me now. It was finally happening. I was going out on a date with Nell Hawthorne. I could picture her wearing a demure but sleek knee-length skirt, some kind of top that couldn’t disguise her incredible rack. Long strawberry blonde hair loose around her shoulders, just the bangs pinned back behind her head like always. She liked to paint her fingernails bright colors, usually red or orange or pink. Sometimes blue or green, but never black or gray or any dull colors.
I stopped in the middle of the road a mile from her house and tried to pull myself together. It was just a date. We were just two friends going on a date. Nothing else. There was no reason to think I’d get to kiss her. I wouldn’t even try to hold her hand. Just…hang out and talk. No need to get excited.
But I was. I was wired, I was so excited.
I let out a long breath, slapped my steering wheel with both hands, and whooped as loud as I could, releasing some of my built-up excitement. I was pumped, so worked up at the prospect of going on a date with Nell that I didn’t even feel my bruises.
I put the truck back in drive and pulled up to Nell’s driveway. My cell phone rang just as I was stopping in front of her house. I glanced at the screen, sliding the “answer” key when I saw Kyle’s name. The digital clock readout at the top of the screen read 6:54 p.m., so I was a bit early. I’d been ignoring the fact that I’d have to tell him I was going out on a date with the girl who was closer to him than a sister. Now that he was calling, minutes before the date, I almost didn’t want to tell him.
“Hey, Kyle, my man! Whassup!” I faked enthusiasm to cover the rush of nerves.
The hesitation on the other end was louder than a shout. “Actually, Jason, this is Nell. I’m calling from Kyle’s phone…I—I forgot mine.” Nell’s voice hit me in the chest like a ton of bricks.
Then her words registered. “Forgot yours? Where are you? I’m pulling up to your driveway right now.”
An even longer hesitation. My stomach shriveled and sank at her next words: “Listen, I’m sorry, but I can
’t go out with you.”
Shit. I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. “Oh, I gotcha.” I tried to cover my disappointment, but I was sure she could hear it anyway. “Everything okay? I mean—”
“I just—I may have said yes too quickly, Jason. I’m sorry. I don’t think…I don’t think it’d work.”
“So this isn’t a rain check, is it.” I couldn’t disguise my hurt at this point.
“No. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine, I guess.” I laughed, realizing how stupid that sounded, especially since she could obviously tell I was upset. “Shit, no. It’s not. This is kinda shady, Nell. I was all excited.” I had to get it together. I clenched my fist around the steering wheel and squeezed my eyes shut.
“I’m so, so sorry, Jason. I just realized, after really thinking about things…I mean, I’m flattered, and I was excited that you asked me, but—”
I interrupted her. “This is about Kyle, isn’t it? You’re with him, on his phone, so of course this about him.” I should have known. I really should have. Everyone always thought they were together anyway.
“Jason, that’s not—I mean, yeah, I’m with him right now, but—”
“It’s fine. I get it. I think we all knew this was coming, so I shouldn’t be surprised. I just wish you’d told me sooner.” I sounded like a dick, but I just couldn’t help it.
“I’m sorry, Jason. I don’t know what else to say.”
“Nothing to say. It’s all good. I’ll just…whatever. See you in chemistry on Monday.”
I was about to hang up when her voice stopped me. “Jason, wait.”
“What.”
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but…Becca has had a crush on you since seventh grade. I guarantee she’ll go out with you.”
“Becca?” Shock laced my words. “Wouldn’t that be weird? I mean, what would I say? She’d think she was my second choice or something. I mean, I guess that’s true, but not like that, you know?”
Nell answered after a short pause. “Just tell her the truth. I backed out on you, last minute. You already have reservations, and I thought she might like to go with you instead of me.”
“Think it’ll work? Really?” Becca? She was cool, but she wasn’t Nell. Out loud, I said, “She is pretty hot.”
“It’ll work. Just call her.” She rattled off Becca’s number, and I repeated it back to her, scribbling it on a receipt from a gas station.
“Thanks…I think. But, Nell? Next time you’re gonna break a guy’s heart, give him a bit more notice, would you?” I tried to inject some playfulness into my voice.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Jason. I didn’t break your heart. We hadn’t even gone out yet. But I am sorry for standing you up like this.”
“No worries. Besides, maybe something will work out with Becca and me. She’s almost as hot as you. Wait, shit, that didn’t come out right. Don’t tell Becca I said that. You guys are equally hot, I was just—” God, I sounded like a moron. Someone stop me.
Nell laughed, cutting me off. “Jason? Shut up. Call Becca.”
The line went dead, and I stared at the rectangular bit of receipt paper with ten digits scrawled messily across the back. Becca? I wasn’t sure if asking her out was a good idea. I didn’t know much about her, now that I thought about it. I had the feeling she came from a pretty strict household, but I was just judging by the fact that she always dressed super-modestly, never showing much skin beyond short-sleeve shirts and knee-length skirts. Nothing low-cut, nothing up past her kneecap. She never hung around guys, never acted flirty, never showed up to parties. She was quiet, studious, kind and polite when spoken to, and people tended to leave her alone or be nice to her simply because she was Nell Hawthorne’s friend.
She’d had a crush on me? Really? How had I never noticed that?
I sat in the driveway for another few minutes, thinking. I nearly peed myself when someone knocked on my window. I rolled it down. Mrs. Hawthorne’s gentle, pretty face was scrunched up in confusion.
“Jason? Is everything okay? Nell isn’t here. She went out running with Kyle.” Mrs. Hawthorne was the kind of woman you wanted to be your mother. Slender, with fine blonde hair and pale skin, she was the epitome of wonderful, always smiling, showing up to football games to cheer us all on, and she usually had baked goods. She knew almost everyone in town by name, and she liked to hug people. She usually smelled like cookies and faint perfume.
My own mother was barely a person, hiding out in her room and watching soap operas and reality TV, staying away from the battleground that was the living room. Dad knocked her around sometimes, but as soon as I was old enough to take it, he turned his fists on me and left her alone except for the twice-weekly thumping of the headboard against the adjoining wall between my bedroom and theirs.
“Oh, yeah,” I said. “Everything’s cool. I thought we were hanging out, me and her and Kyle, but I got the times wrong.”
Mrs. Hawthorne frowned at me. “Now, it’s not nice to lie, Jason Dorsey.”
I grinned at her. “Me? What would I have to lie about?”
She frowned ever more at that. “I’ve known you since you were in diapers, Jason. I know when you’re lying.” The corners of her lips turned up in a smirk that reminded me a lot of Nell. “I also know Nell and Kyle had some kind of argument, and I suspect I know what it was about.”
“They argued?” This was news to me. “I just talked to Nell on Kyle’s phone. They didn’t sound mad at each other, I can tell you that much.” I think I might have sounded slightly bitter.
She glanced at the ground, almost awkward, if such a graceful creature as Mrs. Hawthorne was capable of awkwardness. “I think they made up.” She met my eyes. “You’ve always liked Nell, Jason. I know that, but she doesn’t.”
I blew out a breath of frustration. It seemed like Frankie really had been right when he said everyone knew I liked Nell but Nell. “Well, it doesn’t matter anymore. I have a feeling she’s with Kyle now.”
Mrs. Hawthorne nodded. “Yeah, that’s my thinking. It wouldn’t surprise me. I’m sorry, Jason. I know that must hurt.”
I shrugged. “It’s fine. It always did seem kind of inevitable that those two would end up together, though, you know?”
Mrs. Hawthorne nodded again. “Yeah, I’ve always thought so.” She turned a sharp gaze on me. “What are you going to do now?”
I fiddled with the gearshift knob, tracing the white lines and numbers. “I dunno. Nell said I should ask Becca out, but I don’t know about that. I don’t want Becca to think I was just doing it because I had no one better to ask, you know?”
“Hmmm. That’s not a bad idea, actually. I think if you told Becca the truth, she’d respect that. It might be awkward at first, but she’s a very understanding girl. She’d understand where you were coming from. Make it casual, though. Just go and talk to her.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“I’m sure. It’s worth a try, isn’t it?” She touched my hand. “Jason? You know if you ever need anything, you can come here, right?” There was an edge to her voice, something deep and sharp. As if she knew something no one but Kyle would know.
I just stared at her, unsure how to respond. “Thanks, Mrs. Hawthorne. You rock.”
She smiled at me, and I was sure there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. As if she suspected. But it wasn’t like she could do anything, even if she did know, even if I did tell her what happened in the Dorsey living room.
I knew Becca lived in one of the newer subdivisions a few miles away, so I headed in that direction after leaving Nell’s house. I stopped near the entrance to the subdivision and dialed the number that Nell had given me.
* * *
FALLING INTO US
Now available at all ebook retailers
FOREVER & ALWAYS
FOREVER & ALWAYS
Copyright © 2013 by Jasinda Wilder
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All rights reserved. This book or any portion th
ereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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somewhere out there
Caden
* * *
It’s always the hands that mess me up. I can never get the fingers right, somehow. It’s something about the proportions between the knuckles, and the way the fingers are supposed to curve when at rest. I had an entire sketchbook full of failed attempts.
Even at that moment, in the passenger seat of Dad’s F-350, I was sketching out another attempt. My tenth so far, and we weren’t even to Grayling yet. This one was the best yet, but the middle knuckles of the last two fingers looked awkward, like they’d been broken.
Which gave me idea. I glanced over at Dad, who was driving with his left hand, the right resting on his thigh, fingers tapping to Montgomery Gentry on the radio.
“Dad?” A sideways glance and a raised eyebrow were the only acknowledgement I got. “You ever broke your fingers?”
“Yeah, broke most of my left hand, matter of fact.” Dad took the wheel with his right and showed me his left hand. The knuckles were bulbous, the fingers crooked. “Didn’t get ’em set right, so they’ve always been kinda fucked up.”
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