by Amber Garza
I feel sick. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
He shakes his head. “It’s crazy, you know? He should’ve taken Dad’s help.”
“He will someday. When he’s ready.”
“If he lives long enough.”
I want to tell him not to say things like that, but I won’t lie to Cruz. I can’t give him useless platitudes. And none of us know what’s going to happen to Julian. He makes destructive choices. If only he could see how much it’s hurting those that he loves.
When we reach the garage door Cruz turns the knob and pushes it open. I step into the room, white spots filling my vison as my eyes adjust.
“Hey, there’s my tambourine girl.” Adam stands up and walks around the drum set. Then he swaggers toward me. He looks amazing in a white clingy t-shirt and cargo shorts. “What happened?” Reaching out, he touches my collarbone, trailing his fingertips over my reddened skin. If possible, it scorches it even more.
“I got sunburned.”
“I’m sorry.” His fingers continue to graze the skin gently, tenderly.
Cruz walks away from us and sinks down into the chair in front of the keyboard. Trey and Carlos watch from where they stand in the corner. Suddenly I feel self-conscious with Adam’s hand on my skin.
“I’m fine.” I clear my throat, forcing my heartbeat to steady.
“Ready to get started?” Cruz speaks into the microphone and his voice bounces all over the room.
“Looks like we’ll have to finish this later.” The wink Adam throws me causes my knees to buckle.
Unsteadily, I walk on my wobbly legs to the drum set. Adam already has a chair set up with a tambourine in it, so I guess I know what I’ll be doing again this practice. Not that I’m complaining. Any excuse to be near Adam is one I’ll take.
“I gave you each a chord sheet,” Cruz says, still talking in that damn microphone. I cringe. He does realize we’re all in a tiny garage, right? We can hear him. “It’s a song I wrote. I thought we could try it out.”
This perks my interest, conjuring up a forgotten memory from a few years back.
Cruz’s door was slightly ajar. Gabe had said it was okay to come in, so I pressed it open with my palm. Cruz sat on the bed, a notebook spread open in his lap. He didn’t even notice me step into the room, the bottom of my tennis shoes stamping footprints on the carpet. His head was bent, his forehead a mess of squiggly lines as he wrote furiously in the notebook. The pen in between his fingers moved swiftly over the paper. The scratching noise it made when it struck the paper reminded me of matches being lit.
“Hey,” I purposely spoke softly so as not to startle him.
He looked up from the paper, his eyes glazed over as if he’d been in a trance, lost in his own world. “Oh, hey, Sloane.”
“Watcha doing?” I lowered my body down to sit next to him on the bed. The mattress sloped beneath me.
“Nothing.” He smothered the paper with his hands, obscuring the words written over the pages. Still I could catch the edges of some of the words outside of his fingers. An A here an S there. Fragmented words and half-spoken phrases.
“Why are you being so secretive?” I teased him, not used to being kept in the dark.
“I’m not.” He stood, taking the notebook with him. “It’s just private.”
I stiffened, his words like a physical slap in the face. “Private from me?”
He must’ve caught the hurt in my voice because he turned. “Yeah. I mean, it’s nothing big. Just some song lyrics. There not very good. I’ll show you when I have something worth sharing.”
“Oh.” I felt a little less upset now that he at least told me what it was. But I was still curious what he wrote. He seemed so intent on it. Then again, I understood. I had a diary at home that I definitely didn’t want Cruz to read. “Okay,” I said, deciding to let him have his secret song lyrics.
The sound of the band playing draws me out of my flashback. Adam nods to me and I bang the tambourine against my hand. The smile he flashes me makes it all worth it. I love watching him play the drums. His face is all intent, and the muscles bulge in his arms. When he gets really into it, his shirt sometimes rides up exposing some of his stomach.
Cruz’s voice fills the room as he starts to sing. As my mind registers what he’s saying, I freeze. It takes all my willpower to keep gripping the tambourine and not drop it.
“When we met you were all pigtails, skinned knees and bright eyes; We started as friends, but now my feelings have taken me by surprise; You swept into my life like a hurricane, blowing everything out of place; You used to need me, now it seems you need space; But I can’t let go.”
Adam nods to me to use the tambourine, but it’s like I’m frozen. As if I’m a glacier, a giant block of ice. Craning my neck, I turn to Cruz. His gaze collides with mine.
“You’re my everything, my everything.”
The air leaves me, and I grapple for breath. My hands tremble and the tambourine slips from my fingers, crashing to the ground. When I stand, I bump the chair and it scrapes on the concrete. I whirl around to Adam.
“I’m sorry. I don’t feel good. I…I…I need to go.” I’m not sure if he can even hear me over all the loud music, but I don’t care. I have to get out of here. Cruz’s lyrics and the pointed way he looked at me causes my head to spin. Confusion clouds my vision as I fumble my way out of the garage and out of Cruz’s house. When I get outside, I gulp in the air. I never thought breathing was something you had to think about, but suddenly I do. Taking deep, careful breaths I race across the street. Once I make it to my house, I don’t know what to do. I need to talk to someone, but who? Usually Cruz is the person I go to when I need to talk, but clearly I can’t talk to him about this.
Becca. I’ll talk to Becca. She’ll know what to do. Yanking out my cell phone, I shoot her a text, and pray she’ll respond quickly.
“So let me get this straight.” Becca smacks her pink bubblegum loudly, popping it in between her teeth. “Cruz doesn’t like you dating Adam, he’s acting all jealous, and he wrote you a love song. And you’re surprised by this?”
“Yeah.” I nod vigorously, my stomach in knots. “I don’t understand.”
Becca gives me a skeptical look. “I can’t tell if you’re messing with me or if you’re really this naïve.”
“What are you talking about?”
Sighing, she leans forward. “Do you know why Cruz and I broke up?”
I think about what Cruz said about Becca being high maintenance and needy, but decide to keep that to myself. Instead, I press my lips together and shake my head.
“Because of you.”
I reel back from the strength of her words. “What? No, that’s not why.”
“Trust me. It is. It’s why he breaks up with all of his girlfriends.”
“Is that what he told you?”
“He didn’t have to. It was obvious the whole time we were together. I was never going to compare with you.” Her eyes narrow. “He loves you, Sloane.”
“Yeah, I know. I love him too. We’re best friends.”
Desperately she grabs my hand and stares into my eyes. “No. He’s in love with you.”
“He is?” My head feels fuzzy while I struggle to comprehend what she’s saying.
“Yes, and it’s totally obvious to everyone.” She pauses, eyeing me. “Except you, apparently.”
I slump against my headboard and take a deep breath as I allow her words to sink in. Could it be true? Is Cruz in love with me? A montage of images assault me all at once, swirling in my brain and making my head spin. Cruz’s smile, the way he stares into my eyes as if he can read my very soul, the tender way he holds me, his gentle touch. I think of how he’s always available to me at a moment’s notice no matter what else he has going on. And how he’s never had a relationship with a girl that’s lasted more than a couple of months. Even when he has a girlfriend he spends more time with me than her. Then my mind replays the last month and how jealous and weird he’s be
en about me dating Adam. How have I not figured this out sooner?
“And I think if you’re being entirely honest with yourself you’d realize that you’re in love with him too.” Becca’s voice draws me back to the present.
“But he’s like a brother to me. He’s my best friend. That’s all,” I say the same thing I’ve told people for years when having to explain our relationship. It’s become almost a mantra of sorts. I’ve recited it so many times it comes out without even thinking. But is it true? Is it how I really feel? I’m not sure anymore. Swallowing hard, confusion fills me.
“You and I both know that’s not true. There’s a lot more to you and Cruz then just that.” I blink as Becca smiles at me. “You two have something so special. It’s like you’re soul mates or something. I’m actually pretty jealous of it.”
“But you never said anything.”
“That’s not exactly something you admit to.”
She has a point. “But you encouraged me to go out with Adam.”
“This is something you had to work through on your own.” She slides off my bed. “In fact, you still do. I have faith in you, Sloane Martin. You’re one of strongest girls I know. It’s why I’ve hung out with you even though you stole my boyfriend.” Standing over me, she winks.
“I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
“I know. If you had stolen him on purpose I would’ve kicked your ass. You may be strong, but I put up a pretty damn good fight.”
I laugh.
“You’ll figure this out.” She gives me a quick hug, and I can tell it’s a little uncomfortable for her. She’s not the affectionate type. “If you need me, you know my number.”
“Hey.” I stop her before she can head out of my room. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” She stops, pointing at me. “But if you go after Graham, all bets are off.”
“Don’t worry.” I’ve never even met the guy. “He’s all yours.”
“You better believe it.” A broad smile sweeps her face as she slips into the hallway, closing the door softly behind her.
With a groan, I fall back on my bed. When my head hits the pillow, I blow out a breath. One thing is certain, I never thought I’d ever be in this situation. Before this summer, I’d never even had a date, much less a boyfriend. And now two boys want to be with me. One is my best friend, and one is Adam freaking Stewart. Turmoil churns in my gut. This sounds much more appealing in theory. In reality, it sucks.
Ugh. What the hell am I going to do?
20
cruz
I’m emerging from the shower when I hear a knock on the door. No one else is home, so I hurriedly pull on my boxers and a pair of shorts. Running a hand over my wet hair I walk swiftly down the hall. When I open the door Sloane stands on the front porch. After staring at my chest for a minute, she averts her gaze, staring hard at the grass.
“What’s the matter, Sloane? Don’t like what you see?” I tease.
“Um…no, it’s…you know, it’s fine,” she sputters, still keeping her eyes trained on the green feathery reeds.
“Okay, okay, I’ll put on a shirt. I didn’t realize that my bare chest had this effect on you.” I feel more satisfied than I should about her reaction. “Come in.”
She trails behind me as I walk back to my room. Rock posters are taped all over the walls, my bed is unmade, and clothes line the floor. I reach for a white t-shirt off my bed and pull it on.
“So, cleaning your room hasn’t really been your top priority this summer, I see.” Sloane looks around.
I sit on the edge of my bed. “Nah.”
Giggling, she plunks down next to me. On my nightstand is a stack of papers, my handwriting scrawled all over them. Sloane stares at the top one. It’s the song I sang to her, and by the widening of her eyes I can tell she’s made the connection. My chest tightens, and I know why she’s here. Steeling myself, I wait for her to speak.
She peers at me. “Cruz, I need to ask you something.”
“I figured this was coming.”
“Was that song about me?”
“You know it was.” I pivot so that our knees are touching. “Who else could it be about?” Feeling bold, I lift my arm, my index finger barely touching Sloane’s chin. Tenderly I trace her soft skin with the pad of my finger, causing her to shiver. “When we met you were all pigtails, skinned knees and bright eyes,” I speak the lyrics softly. “We started as friends, but now my feelings have taken me by surprise.” My fingertip delicately sweeps across her jawline and up to her lower lip. Then I drag my finger over it, tugging it down slightly, moisture coating my skin. Her eyes grow serious. “I should’ve told you how I felt sooner, but I didn’t know how.”
“So instead you wrote a song?”
Dropping my hand, I nod. My gaze lingers on her mouth, on the lips that I just touched. My heart slams into my ribcage. I want to kiss her so damn bad, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop myself. “It was the easiest way to get my feelings out.” My hand curves around her face, my fingers sliding under her hair. The long strands are soft and silky against my skin. “God, you don’t know how badly I wish I had told you before you went out with Adam.”
“You felt this way even before I dated Adam?” Something flashes in her eyes that I can’t quite place – desire, regret, betrayal.
“Long before.” I scoot closer, her familiar scent cocooning me. “I can’t even remember when I didn’t.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why wait until now?”
“Seeing you kiss Adam was like a knife cutting me open.” I lower my face until our foreheads touch. “I couldn’t stand it. It should’ve been me. I should’ve been your first kiss. I always thought I would be.” His warm breath fans over my face.
With her open palms she shoves me back. “But you’ve kissed other girls,” she says, her tone hard. “You wanted to be my first kiss, but I wasn’t going to be yours? How is that fair?”
Her words hit their mark, like a dagger to my heart. “You’re right. I’m a selfish asshole.”
She softens a little, her eyes crinkling around the edges. “Well, I didn’t say that.”
“It’s true. I never should’ve dated anyone else. I only did it in an attempt to get over you.”
“Get over me? Why?”
“Because you’re my best friend, Sloane.” I lightly brush my fingers over hers. “Remember the pact we made when we were younger?”
“How could I forget? You made us seal it with blood.”
I chuckle, remembering.
“Tommy’s a jerk anyway.” Sloane swirled her stick into the ground, painting circles into the dirt. “Don’t worry about him.”
“I should’ve punched him in the face.” I threw a rock into the bushes.
We were sitting in my backyard having a pretend campout. Dad set up a tent for us and everything. It was his way of making up for the fact that my friend Tommy flaked out on the camping trip we were supposed to take. A couple of weeks prior Tommy had invited me to go camping with his family this weekend, but then at the last minute he changed his mind and invited another boy in our class, Isaiah.
“No, that wouldn’t be good. Then you’d be grounded too.” Sloane nudged me in the side. “At least you can still hang out with me. And isn’t that better?”
I turned to her. “Yeah, actually. It is.” There was no hint of teasing in my voice. At ten years old I mostly joked around. I was rarely serious, but this time warranted it.
“Because I don’t stink like Tommy, huh?” Sloane bantered.
“That’s true.” I raised a brow. Dropping the rock in my hand, I stood up. “But seriously, you’re my best friend, Sloane. The only friend I can count on, really.” I turned to her. “Let’s make a pact.”
“A pact?” Fear flashed in her eyes like I had just asked her to make a suicide pact or something.
“Yeah.” I shoved my fingers into the pocket of my shorts and snatched out the swiss army knife.
Sloane jumped up. “Look,
I know you’re upset about the camping trip, but I don’t want to kill myself.”
I laughed, realizing that my assessment had been correct. Did I know this girl or what? “Sloane, we’re not committing suicide. We’re making a best friend’s pact.”
“A best friend’s pact?” She appeared to relax a little, but she still eyed the knife warily.
“Yeah. We’ll promise to be best friends always. We’ll promise to never let each other down, to always put each other first. Then we’ll seal it with our blood.”
She shivered. “Blood?”
I clicked the lever on my swiss army knife. A tiny blade sprung out, glinting in the darkness. “Ready?”
“I don’t know.” She squirmed. “How much blood are we talking?”
“Just a tiny prick.” I placed a hand on my hip. “C’mon, don’t be such a wimp.”
She puffed out her chest. “I’m not a wimp.”
“Great. Then hold out your hand.”
Her arm trembled as she held it up. I pricked my own palm first. It barely hurt at all. Sort of reminded me of a bee sting or a shot at the doctor’s office. Sloane was brave when I nicked her palm. She winced a little, but held her head high.
I gripped her hand and said, “Repeat after me. I, Sloane Martin, promise to be best friends with Cruz Vargas for the rest of our lives.”
Obediently, she repeated it.
“I will never let him down, or choose another friend over him. I will be loyal to him and always have his back.”
Again, she repeated.
Then it was my turn. I spoke loudly and firmly. As weird as it was, I actually found myself thrilled with the whole ceremony. It gave me a sense of security I so desperately desired.
“I never want to lose you. And I worried that if we ever went out it would change everything.”
Sloane searches my eyes. “And you’re not worried about losing me now?”
“No.” I speak firmly. “Because I know I won’t. What you and I have will never go away, Sloane. I’m sure of it. Besides, ever since I saw you kissing Adam, I’ve realized that I can’t fight my feelings anymore. They’re real and they’re not going away.” I bring both hands up to frame her face. She sucks in a breath. “I’d give up every date, every kiss, every girl I’ve ever gone out with to be with you. I wish I had told you sooner. I wish I’d never dated anyone else. I regret it. All of it.”
