by A. M. Rose
I close my eyes, but before I drift off to blissful sleep, loud voices rouse me. I slide down and lay on my stomach, gazing at the ground. Two men dressed in black jumpsuits stand below me. I can’t hear what they’re saying from this height. Moving closer would be impossible without being heard, so I hang my head down farther and use my feet to hook onto the trunk for support.
“Why?” A familiar voice drifts up. But I can’t place it.
“It is not your concern. You will obey orders, and that is final,” the other yells and stomps off.
The man below stands rigid, fists clenched at his sides. Once the first man is out of sight, he kicks at the ground and throws punches into the air. My foot slips against the trunk and spooks a bird, sending it into flight. The man looks up. My heart catches in my throat as our eyes connect. Stunning blue eyes.
It’s Maddox.
My text alert sounds once and then again, pulling me from my dream that’s already fading away. Trying to analyze any of them have never gotten me anywhere, so I shake my head, roll over, and grab my phone.
Dylan:
Can’t meet up today
Mom got me a private session with this badass lacrosse coach
So much for our plans to start researching together. My chest is heavy as I sit up and stretch, looking at my little gallery wall. Lacrosse. Of course. It’s always lacrosse.
Sophomore year, I’d finally built up the courage and was going to tell Dylan how I felt about him. We’d planned to go to this street fair in the Gaslamp. Just Dylan and me. I’d stayed up half the night, deciding what I was going to say.
“Oh,” I’d said when he called to tell me he couldn’t make it because of lacrosse. “I bought doughnuts.”
“We’ll eat them tonight.”
“And…and I wanted to talk to you about something. It’s kind of important.” I don’t remember exactly what I said, but it was something like that. Something that obviously set off alarm bells.
What happened next was…nothing. Big surprise. Except the longest pause in the history of long, awkward pauses.
“All right,” Dylan said finally. “We’ll talk later. Okay? I’ve gotta go.” He tried to keep his voice light, but a thread of something that sounded like panic wound its way through his words.
I ate every single one of those doughnuts by myself. We never talked. And he never asked. Because he didn’t want to know.
I sigh. It’s probably for the best. Dylan loves lacrosse, but I’m not sure if he could ever be in love with me.
Me:
Ok
Have fun
I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling.
Friends. Just friends.
I shouldn’t feel sad, but I do. And it’s stupid and frustrating.
But there’s no time to think about it. If Dylan isn’t going to help me, I’m going to find some answers on my own. And I know just where to start.
Me:
I was wondering if you wanted to grab coffee or something
I twirl the corner of my blanket with my fingers and stare at my phone. I can do this. I don’t need anyone’s help.
Maddox:
Now?
Ouch. Not exactly a flat-out rejection, but definitely not an enthusiastic yes. Now what am I supposed to say? I go to type out a response, but three little dots pop up on the screen telling me he’s already typing, so I wait.
Maddox:
I was going to check out this breakfast place I saw online. You want to come?
Breakfast could work. It would give me more time to bring up the notebook, and it would be harder for him to just leave if he doesn’t want to talk about it.
Me:
Sure
Maddox:
Cool
See you in 10
After getting dressed, I grab the notebook and head downstairs. Exactly ten minutes pass when my phone chirps.
Maddox:
I’m here
I take a deep breath. I’m already sweating, and I haven’t even done anything yet. I grip the notebook tight in my hands and head outside. I can do this. Find a way to ask Maddox about the pictures, figure out if he’s hiding anything. Easy peasy. Yeah, right.
“Thanks for picking me up.” I slide into the front seat, keeping my voice light, all nonchalant like, but really I’m dying to get him talking. “So, where are we going?” I close the door and he pulls out onto the street.
His flexes his biceps as he grips the steering wheel. “It’s a surprise. But don’t worry, it’s not far past the school.”
I run my hand along the armrest trying to think of a breakfast place near there. “Bacon on the Side?”
“No, I said it was a surprise.” He flips on his blinker and hangs a left at the corner.
I tap my fingers against my thigh, my anxiety level rising, knowing I have to figure out a way to bring up the notebook. And since we’re going somewhere near school I don’t have long. Unless I plan on taking it in with me, which seems like a royally stupid idea.
He drums his hand against the wheel to the soft beat of the music that’s playing. Keep it cool. Get him talking. But about what? Surfing. There’s an idea. He was so relaxed that day if I mention it maybe he’ll relax now and start rambling on. But what’s the best way to get him talking about it?
He checks his mirrors and changes lanes.
I could mention James and Connor. Pretend I thought I saw them last night or something. It’s perfect. I relax back in my seat a little deeper and stare at the notebook in my lap. “I almost forgot, this is yours.” Shit. That wasn’t what I was going to say.
He glances at the book in my hand, and then back at the road.
My knee bounces. Now that I messed it all up, I want to just straight out ask him about what’s inside, but that was never the plan. I’d decided a better way to get him talking is if he brought it up, so I slipped a painting of my own inside hoping he’d ask me. It’s not the greatest. And I didn’t have a ton of time. But it’s of the ocean. Specifically, a wave, and thanks to Connor ’s descriptions when he was teaching me to surf, it was a lot easier to get right the first time.
“Great. Thanks.” He finally takes the notebook from me and slides it between the driver’s seat and center console without even looking at it.
I ball my hands into fists. No, this isn’t how it was supposed to happen. “Don’t you want to make sure everything’s there?” I sound a little too cheerful. At least I don’t sound as disappointed as I feel.
He looks at me from the side of his eye. “Why, did you take something out?”
“No.” Crap. Maybe I should have.
So much for that idea. Now what? I can’t ask him about the pictures without admitting that I looked inside.
He takes a turn and the car speeds up.
I chew the inside of my lip until a metallic taste fills my mouth and run my fingers along the spiral next to Maddox. He doesn’t even seem to notice. “I have a question.” I keep my voice level even though inside I’m shaking.
He glances at me quickly, brows raised. “I already know.”
I suck in a breath. He can’t know about me. Can he? Breathe in and out, stay cool. Stick to the plan. Keep him talking. “Oh, really. And what’s that?”
“I’ll go with you on one condition. You can’t make out with me on the dance floor. Too cheesy.”
Now I’m confused. “What are you talking about?”
He flips his blinker and makes a right. The school is only a block away. “That dance thing there are fliers about around the school. Took you long enough to ask.”
I let out a chuckle. “That was last month. Didn’t you notice the date?”
His cheeks are red but his tone is light. “See? You waited too long and now we missed it. But I guess that means we can make out now.” He whips past the school.
My neck is hot. Is he making fun of me? I’m not about to let him out of it that easy. “I mean the notebook. Your notebook. I…looked inside.”
He turns the corner, pulls next to the curb, cuts the ignition off, and stares straight ahead of him. His hands twist around the steering wheel, the leather squeaks from his action. “Oh.” He takes a few breaths but doesn’t move. Doesn’t look at me. “I was just messing around.” His voice is light, quiet. “I mean, they’re nothing really. They don’t mean—”
“They’re beautiful.”
He finally turns toward me.
“You’re really talented.” Now my voice is softer, maybe because of how he’s looking at me. Bright eyes, soft jaw. “It’s just… How did you draw them so fast? You’ve only been here like, what? A day?”
The corner of his mouth turns up and he leans toward me. I should lean away, but I don’t. I like the way my heart speeds up when he gets close. But if he’s trying to distract me, it won’t work. I stand my ground. He clicks open the glove box and pulls out a similar notebook, this one with a green cover. He leans back and flips it open. “I did this one last night.” He hands it to me.
My chest tightens. It’s of yesterday at Max’s. And just like the drawings in the first book, it’s incredible, like a photograph. Dylan and I are sitting at the table, me leaning forward, my legs tucked up under the chair, him leaning back, his legs stretched out in front of him, rubbing his stomach. Every detail, like the giant wildebeest, scattered fries, and Dylan’s mound of ketchup, is perfect. It’s exactly how I remember. But still. I play with a loose string on my shirt. He had all night to work on this.
“Here. Let me show you.” He pulls the notebook from my lap, a pencil from his center console, and starts to scratch away at a blank page. He doesn’t look up once as he scribbles. And it only takes a second for me to recognize the girl in the picture. Five minutes pass and he spins the book around.
My heart catches. It’s like I’m looking in a mirror. Down to the freckles that dot my nose. And how my left ear is slightly higher than my right. There’s even sadness in my eyes. The sadness I can always feel but never realized anyone could see.
This is me.
Beautiful.
His face is so open as he looks at me.
I trail my fingers along the side of the drawing. “Wow.”
He dips his eyes down. “The real thing is better.” He closes the book and slides the pencil away. The plastic strip near the gear shift is gone now, but it reminds me of the one thing I still need to know.
I take a deep breath. “But that one drawing…of that place. Where is that?”
He glances at me quickly, his hint of a smile gone. “I was reading this sci-fi book and was just messing around.” He pushes open his door. “You ready to eat?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just jumps from the car and closes the door.
A book. That makes sense. And he does draw lightning fast. Maybe that’s all this is. Maybe I’m making something out of nothing. Maybe that was all my head was thinking about, too. Some book. I push open the door and climb out.
Maddox is waiting, any hint of that vulnerable guy in the car completely gone. “Ready?”
I close the door and we start walking. I’m not exactly sure what to say, not that I had anything planned, but I thought at least I’d figure out something.
“What the hell is this?” Maddox stops and stares inside the window of Tina’s Trinkets, a little boutique that has quirky gifts and some locally made things. Like the candles in the window that look like bakery goods of every shape and size. Scones, cupcakes, biscuits, bagels, pies, even a stack of pancakes that look like they’re covered in maple syrup are all on pretty little stands.
“I should’ve read the article, not just looked at the picture.” He lets out a huff. “Got any ideas on where to go now?”
Oh, the possibilities. There’s this place in La Jolla that serves lobster for brunch, with all these crazy, amazing ice sculptures, and it’s right on the water, so the view is stunning. I could grab my camera and maybe get some incredible shots, but it’s not exactly cheap, or close by, so making him drive there just seems mean. And I don’t even like lobster. So I decide on one of my favorite spots not far from here. “It’s a surprise.”
He cocks his head. “Touché.”
“Don’t worry, it’s not far. Come on.” I walk toward the corner.
“What? We aren’t driving?”
“It’s just down the street.” I call back to him.
Maddox catches up to me and starts messing with his phone. I should try some small talk. After all, I don’t know much about him besides the fact that he’s an incredible artist, and friends should know more about each other. “You’ve never said where you moved from.”
“Oh. Here and there really.” He shoves his phone into his pocket. “We had to move a lot for my dad’s job. I was sick of it. So my parents said I could come here and live with my uncle.”
“That’s cool.” If my dad was still around I would’ve gone anywhere with him. It’s so different now. Mom and I have never been close, there’s that. But without Dad to act as a buffer, when I do see her, she’s disconnected. Last night, with the new clothes, the hair advice, that was the warmest she’s ever been toward me.
Oh crap. Mom. She’s probably pissed I’m not home. A flare of panic sweeps through me as I pull out my phone. I missed a text from her saying she picked up another shift at the hospital and won’t be home until later. Typical. But perfect.
Maddox lets out a long breath and peers toward the sky. “It’s awesome. I can basically come and go as I please. He works a lot so I barely see him. My dad’s kind of a jerk, so it’s been a really nice change not having to be around him all the time.”
I stare straight ahead without answering. I’m still not to the point where I can talk about other people’s fathers.
“Hey.” Maddox reaches over and brushes his hand against my arm. His fingers are so much hotter than my skin. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I heard about what happened to your dad.” His eyes search my face. “Were you two close?”
I nod. A thick feeling builds at the back of my throat.
“That sucks.”
I nod again.
My feet are heavy on the pavement and clomp like bricks. The scent of the nearby honeysuckle bushes floats in the air, as cars on the street rush by. Maddox pulls his phone out, checks the screen, and slides it back in his pocket. I could say nothing. Let this silence eat away at us.
I take a deep breath and swallow it down. “Thanks. It does. It was difficult at first, but it’s been getting easier.” I spin the ring on my finger. “I don’t think you ever really lose someone unless you forget about them. And I’ll never let that happen, so he’ll always be with me.” My eyes burn, but I quickly blink it away. “Sorry, that must sound weird.”
“No, it doesn’t sound weird at all.” He smiles, and his eyes soften. “That’s a cool ring. Where’d you get it?”
I stop spinning it. “My dad bought it for me.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it before. Can I see?”
We stop walking and I lift my hand so Maddox can take a closer look. He turns my hand over in his, laces his fingers with mine. Our eyes lock, and my cheeks heat up. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have bitched about my dad.” His voice is soft, and his gaze falls to my lips.
My eyes slip down to his. They look nice and soft. But we’re barely friends. The space between us shrinks and soon we’re almost nose to nose. And…he’s not Dylan. I lean away.
“Excusez-moi. Could you tell me how to get to the interstate?” A smoky voice comes from behind me. A man with sunburnt skin and sun-kissed hair leans out the window of a bright green car stopped at the curb. A rental probably, no one would choose this color on purpose. And since he doesn’t know where the freeway is, that’s a dead giveaway, too.
“Where are you trying to go?” I take a step toward the car.
The guy leans over to talk to his passenger. “Comment dites-vous aéroport en anglais?” He turns back toward me. “Airport.”
“Au bout de la rue,
prenez à gauche et vous devriez voir l’entrée sur votre droite.” The directions to the freeway onramp roll off my tongue.
He smiles. “Merci.”
“Pas de souci,” I say, and they drive away. Really it’s not a big deal. Living in a tourist city means someone’s always asking where to go, and luckily when it comes to directions, I’ve always been pretty good with them. It’s about knowing where the ocean is and the rest is cake from there.
I step away from the curb. Maddox is staring at me. Wide eyed. Mouth gaping.
“What?” I ask.
“He was speaking French. So were you.”
Oh shit. Was I?
Shit. This is bad. A drop of sweat creeps down my back, and I start walking again. Please don’t say anything. Please.
“Hang on.” He catches up to me. “Okay, cut the crap, Drea. You beat up a guy three times your size. You say you suck at languages, but you’re fluent in Spanish and French. You practically memorized A Midsummer Night’s Dream overnight. And not that I really want to bring it up, but your eye looks perfect even though my hand is still black and blue.” He holds it up, showing off the watercolor of purples and greens across his knuckles. “I know people can be good at things, but you seem to be able to do it all. How is that possible?”
My hand jumps to my face. I completely forgot about the black eye. Double shit. That drop of sweat has made its way down to my back. My pulse ticks higher.
How do I explain this?
Chapter Eighteen
I tuck my sweaty hands under my arms and pick up my pace. “It’s not much different than Spanish, you know.” I respond like it’s the most normal thing ever, and I completely ignore the comment about my lack of a black eye, but the look he gives me says he isn’t convinced. I don’t blame him. But I can’t explain what’s been happening, either, so I try to change the subject. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starved. The restaurant is just around the corner. They have the best pancakes. Do you like pancakes? They’re so good. Strawberry. Blueberry. Chocolate chip. Cinnamon raisin. Well, sometimes they put in too many raisins. But they’re still good.”
