by Aly Martinez
“I’m taking my stuff so you don’t steal it.”
“I won’t steal your crap. I’m not a thief,” he responded, and there was something in his voice that made me feel guilty for having suggested otherwise.
“Right. Well. I’m not chancing it. I didn’t know anyone else came here.” I looked around the room for something to carry the little pile I had accumulated, but as I turned, everything went rolling to the floor. “Ugh,” I groaned, immediately diving after them.
“You don’t have to take your stuff. I won’t mess with it.” He squatted down and began helping me collect them. “Besides, I don’t have much use for a centimeter-long, pink pencil.” He lifted the remnant off the ground and held it out for me. His eyes were warm, completely unlike the ones that had been teasing me only minutes before.
“Thanks,” I replied, eyeing him suspiciously. However, without anywhere else to store my drawings, I was forced to take his word for it.
My mother hated that I spent so much time poring over my art. Every chance she got, she threw my supplies away. I thought it had less to do with me drawing and more to do with my father being an out-of-work artist who refused to get a job doing anything else.
“So, do you come here a lot?” Till asked, pulling off a beanie and running a hand through his dark, unkempt hair.
“Well, I did.” I rolled my eyes, but he narrowed his and remained silently staring at me from a few feet away. It was the most awkward standoff of my adolescent life, but he didn’t budge, and neither did I.
Suddenly, a woman’s angry shrill vibrated against the windows, scaring us both.
“Till, get your ass back home right now!”
He quickly grabbed my hand and dragged me flat against the back wall, hiding us from view.
With a finger over his mouth, he urged, “Shhh.” He leaned away only long enough to peer out the corner of the window. “Get down,” he ordered then pulled me to the floor beside him.
After a few seconds, we heard her voice moving farther away and he let out a relieved sigh.
“Was that your mom? She sounded mad. You should probably get going.”
“She always sounds like that, which is exactly why I’m not heading home. She just wants me to watch my brothers so she can follow my dad around and make sure he’s not seeing Mrs. Cassidy anymore.”
“Mrs. Cassidy? Isn’t she married?”
“Yep,” he answered nonchalantly.
“As in your girlfriend, Lynn Cassidy? Her mom?”
“Yep,” Till repeated, not reacting in the least to my disgusted tone. “Hey. How do you know Lynn’s my girlfriend?”
“Because we’ve been going to school together since kindergarten.” I gave him yet another disgusted look and rolled my eyes.
“I knew it! I thought you went to East Side too!”
I knew everything about Till Page, yet he thought we went to school together. How flattering.
“What’s your name?” he asked as I sat down against the wall, pulling my pad and pencils into my lap.
“Cindy Lou,” I responded, not looking back up and desperately wishing he would leave.
“No, it’s not.”
“Daphne?”
“Not it, either.”
“Ivy?” I smarted one last time, pretending to be busy by doodling lightning bolts.
“Nope,” he responded but didn’t inquire any further. “So, you mind if I hang out for a little while?”
“It’s a free world, Till. I don’t exactly own the place,” I said, disinterested—even though, on the inside, I was anything but.
“Okay.” He sank down against the opposite wall.
For thirty minutes, he sat there staring at me. It was unnerving, but I tried not to let him see that. I did my absolute best to ignore him, but as my pencil moved over the paper, his eyes began to form within the lines.
Eventually, he got up and headed back to the window.
“See you tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder.
* * *
At school the next day, Till didn’t acknowledge me at all. It wasn’t like I’d expected him to come sit with me at lunch or anything. We weren’t friends, but it still stung when he walked right past me, not even bothering to spare a glance in my direction. Maybe it was for the best, though, after the fool I’d made of myself the day before.
That night, as per usual, I made my way to the abandoned apartment as soon as my parents started arguing about the power bill. When I walked in, I saw a small, plastic bag on the ground. On a torn-out piece of notebook paper was a handwritten note.
Doodle,
I thought you might want pencils that are actually long enough to be measured with a ruler. I couldn’t find pink, but hopefully these will do.
Till
I opened the bag to find a set of tinted charcoals. They weren’t top-of-the-line, but they were far better than anything I’d have been able to afford. It boggled my mind how Till had afforded them—or, better yet, why he would have spent his limited money on me. That was if he had paid for them at all. I didn’t dwell on those thoughts long as I ripped the box open and began drawing.
“Doodle, you any good at math?” Till asked as he climbed through the window an hour or so later.
“What?” I asked, confused by his sudden appearance and the second use of what I guessed was my new nickname.
“Math. Mr. Sparks is about to fail me. If I fail, I can’t play football.” He walked over and sat on the floor next to me. “Oh, awesome. You brought food. I’m starving.” He shoved a hand in the bag of chips I’d snagged from home as dinner.
“Uh . . . I brought myself food.” I snatched the bag away, but not before he stole a handful.
“Hey, you like those pencils?” he asked, crushing the chips into his mouth.
He had given me pencils. Right.
I passed him the rest of the chips. “They’re amazing. Thank you.”
“No prob.” He shrugged and tossed me a closed-mouth grin. “So. Math?”
“No, I’m serious, Till. They’re really nice. I’m sure they were expensive.”
“Nah. It’s no big deal.” He jumped to his feet and wandered over to the lamp in the corner. “How do you have electricity in here?” He flipped it off and on again.
“I guess the power company never turned it off. It’s nice because I bring a little heater in the winter, so I don’t freeze.”
“No shit? I should move in here,” he mumbled to himself. I only understood because it was the same thought I’d had at least a dozen times.
“Can I pay you back for the charcoals?”
“Nope. But you can help me not get kicked off the football team.” He shoved another handful of the chips into his mouth.
“Come on. I can pay you a couple bucks a week or something. It’d make me feel better.”
“Why? I said it’s not a big deal.”
“Because neither one of us has the money to be buying stuff like this. I really appreciate it though.” I smiled tightly.
“Are you saying I’m poor? ’Cause I’m not!” he yelled, and it quite honestly surprised me.
“No,” I said cautiously, not sure what to make of his reaction. “I’m saying we’re poor. Till, we live in the same apartments. I’m going to guess that your family isn’t living here for the luxurious view any more than mine is.”
“Just forget it.” He jerked the box from my hand and stormed toward the window.
“Hey! You can’t take those back. You gave them to me.” I darted forward to snatch them back.
Tug-of-war ensued . . . until I pulled the ultimate trump card.
“Ow!” I screamed, cradling my arm as I fell down to the dirty floor.
His eyes flashed wide. “Crap. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” He kneeled down next to me.
I didn’t waste a single second plucking the box from his hand and rolling over to hide it under my body.
“Are you kidding me!” he yelled.
I couldn’
t help but laugh at my victory.
It was short-lived though because not a second later, he leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “Spider,” sending me into full-body convulsions and flying to my feet.
He collapsed on the floor in hysterics. I tried to use The Force to shoot lasers from my eyes. Unfortunately, my Jedi mind tricks seemed to be lacking.
“You are such a jerk!”
“Oh my God, Doodle!” He continued to roll around on the floor. “I thought you were having a seizure!”
“I swear I hope you are good at football because you definitely don’t have a career in comedy,” I deadpanned.
“Oh, but you do?” He began hopping around the room, exaggeratedly yelling, “Ow!”
I crossed my arms over my chest and bit my lips, trying to stifle a laugh. He was making fun of me, but he looked ridiculous while doing it. There was no way I could be mad at that. Some minutes later, he stopped and tossed me a heart-stopping smile. Or at least my heart thought it was.
“I’ll help you with math—as long as you promise not to shoplift any more art supplies.”
His smile faded as he glanced down at his shoes, embarrassed.
“Thanks for the gift, and don’t you dare think about taking it back. But no more, okay?”
“Yeah. Cool,” he told the ground.
“All right, Dummy. Where should we start? Please tell me I don’t have to go all the way back to two-plus-two,” I joked, bumping him with my shoulder as I walked past.
“Soooo funny,” he teased but followed me to sit on the blanket.
Two hours later, with three days’ worth of math homework completed, he crawled back out of that window. Just before he disappeared, he called out, “See you tomorrow, Doodle.”
I didn’t know it then, but he had never been more right. After that, there weren’t many tomorrows that I didn’t see Till Page.
Chapter Two
Eliza
Three years later . . .
“YOU WANNA MAYBE GO SEE a movie tonight?” he asked.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek to suppress my schoolgirl squeal. “Yeah. That sounds cool,” I said nonchalantly before quickly turning to face my locker. He was standing the good kind of too close and I needed an escape. The inside of my dark locker seemed like the most obvious of choices.
I leaned my head inside, pretending to look for a book, and allowed the huge grin to spread across my face. The very idea of telling Crystal about our date gave me almost as much as excitement as the date itself. She was going to have a stroke when I told her that he’d finally asked me out. It had taken long enough—that’s for sure. I thought the entire school knew he was interested in me, but I wasn’t exactly one of the cool kids. But then again, neither was he. Not many of the jocks were enrolled in every possible art class, including the ones the school offered after hours. He was different, and I liked that. A lot.
“You okay, Eliza?”
I felt his hand on my back, and I literally squeaked. Probably not my subtlest move, but that squeak had suppressed a breathy sigh. I might have only been sixteen, but I knew that “breathy” never helped your case when trying to play it cool.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” I twirled to face him, and his hand found my hip. Like the proverbial wheel, I squeaked again.
Suddenly, a pair of unfamiliar, hazel eyes caught my attention. Oh, I knew every single curve on his ridiculously attractive face. I’d drawn each one of them more times than I cared to admit. But inside this building, I didn’t know those eyes from the man on the moon.
The smile fell from my face as he approached.
“Bennett, you need to get to the gym. Coach is looking for you,” Till said when he stopped in front of us.
I had gotten used to his cold avoidance over the years. He spent hours every night at my side in our condemned apartment, but never once had he acknowledged me at school. It had pissed me off at first. Yeah, okay. It still pissed me off.
“What? Why?” Daniel Bennett removed his hand from my hip.
Instead of another squeak, a growl pointedly aimed at Till rumbled in my throat.
“I wasn’t feeling confident about some of the plays. So we’re gonna watch last week’s videos again.” The side of his lip curled into a half smile.
Now that I recognized. He was up to no good.
“Seriously? I’ve got plans tonight,” Daniel groaned.
“Sorry, bro. Coach’s orders.” Till shrugged and tried to wiggle his hands into the pockets of his tattered jeans.
He’d recently found the weights, so his pants were quickly becoming too small to fit his large frame, but he wore them as if that were the sole purpose. Hell, knowing Till, maybe it was.
“All night?” Bennett clarified, tilting his head toward me.
Till sucked in a breath, and I knew he was enjoying it. “So it seems.”
I cocked my head to the side, not sure what to make of his sudden appearance, but if he noticed my scrutinizing eyes, he never acknowledged it.
“Shit,” Bennett mumbled, turning back to face me. “You think we could do dinner after the game tomorrow instead? Coach loves his videos, so this is gonna take forever.”
I let out a disappointed sigh. “I can’t. I have to work tomorrow night. The Smokehouse bustles at least twelve customers on a Friday night. How would they ever manage to get them all seated without me?” I replied sarcastically.
He groaned again. “Next weekend then?”
“Yeah. I can do that.” I flashed him a sweet smile.
“Okay. Next weekend. Dinner and a movie,” he confirmed before backing away.
“Watch out!” I laughed as he plowed over one of the freshmen.
“Sorry,” he apologized before tossing me a wink.
Covering my mouth, I tried to hide my smile. I watched until he was out of sight then turned back to my locker, but I paused because Till was still standing next to me.
I wasn’t sure why he was lingering. Closing my locker, I opened my mouth to say something, but he beat me to it.
“Doodle,” he said in greeting and dismissal.
My jaw dropped open as he sauntered away.
Three years. Three long years, and the first time he’d ever spoken to me at school, all I’d gotten was the stupid nickname I fucking loved so much that I couldn’t even be mad.
Chapter Three
Till
Six months later . . .
“HEY, MRS. NOELLE. CAN I borrow your phone?” I asked the crotchety old lady who lived next door.
“Again?” she grumbled, handing me the portable phone through the crack in the door.
“Sorry.” I began dialing the number to my mom’s friend, Tracie. She had a cell phone, and even though she was a total bitch, I was hoping she would be able to help me out.
“Tracie. Hey, it’s Till. Do you know where my mom is?” I asked as soon as she picked up.
“Jesus, Till. Stop callin’ and wastin’ my minutes. Is your broke ass gonna pay my bill when I go over? I don’t think so. I have no clue where the hell your mom is. Stop callin’.” She hung up just as quickly as she’d answered.
“Shit.” I cursed under my breath, handing the phone back to Mrs. Noelle.
“You’re welcome!” she shouted as I headed back to my parents’ apartment.
“Yeah, thanks,” I responded absently.
I walked back inside and began pacing the den. Eliza was waiting for me. I knew she was. Her boyfriend, Daniel Bennett, had a midnight curfew, so he always dropped her off around eleven thirty. It was bad enough I had to share her with him, but since my mom’s trip to buy cigarettes had turned into a six-hour-long excursion, there was a good chance I was going to miss her entire birthday.
I was stuck only two buildings away, babysitting my brothers. Flint was eleven. He probably would have been fine sleeping alone in the apartment, but Quarry was only six. I couldn’t just leave.
“Shit!” I shouted, pulling my beanie off and throwing it onto the
couch. “Tonight of all fucking nights!” I began to rant to myself.
“Till?”
I heard Quarry as he walked out of his bedroom, fully dressed in dirty clothes. As far as I knew, the kid only owned two pair of jeans. Forget about pajamas.
“It’s all good, buddy. Go back to bed.”
“Mom’s still not back?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“No, but it’s okay. Just go back to sleep.” I ruffled his thick, black hair.
“Don’t you have a date?”
“Something like that.”
It was the biggest understatement of the year. It wasn’t something like that. It’s Eliza. It was bigger than a date. I’d spent fucking weeks saving up to buy her a present. Now, I couldn’t even give it to her on her actual birthday.
I rolled my bottom lip with my fingers and debated what to do. Mom would show up eventually, but I was sure it wouldn’t be until the morning. God only knew where the hell my dad was. He was even more worthless than she was. I had never missed a night with Eliza, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to start on her birthday.
“Hey, Quarry. Put on some shoes. Take a walk with me real quick.”
“Okay!” he said excitedly, making me laugh for the first time in hours.
I went to the boys’ room and nudged Flint. “Hey, I’m taking Q and going for a walk. You gonna be okay for a few minutes alone?”
“Yeah,” he grumbled, rolling over and falling immediately back asleep.
I opened the hall closet and pulled out the vase I’d stashed in the back.
“Ready!” Quarry exclaimed.
I ran my eyes over his dirty shirt and shook my head. “Let’s go.” I headed out the door with him hot on my heels.
He talked nonstop as we weaved through the buildings. “Hey, where we goin’? Did you make those flowers? Is that for your girlfriend? Do you even have a girlfriend? What’s her name? Can I meet her?”
“Jesus! Quarry, shut it!” I growled, but he quieted for only a minute.
“Does she live here?” he whispered, and I gave him a frustrated glare that only made him smile and shrug.
When we got to the apartment, I could see the light peeking out of the window. She is in there.
