by Anne Eliot
Chapter Twenty-Four
Gray
I throw LightStick number five thousand and save-me-from-this-plastic-crap into the box with complete disgust, drawing a look from Percy-from-Shipping.
Percy-from-Shipping is my newly assigned work partner. He's twenty-two and a high school drop out. He's been filling in for Jess since Monday.
Monday. The day Jess officially ditched me. Monday was a bad day.
It's been three days since I've seen Jess. Of course the girl hasn't returned even one of my texts or phone calls. Not one. Because Jess is sick and tired.
Sick and tired. That's what I'd told Michelle and Corey to explain her absence at the rink. That's what I told my Grandmother when she caught me moping around.
I, of course, left off the part where she's sick and tired of me.
“Eff-ing three days with eff-ing Percy-from-Shipping,” I mutter as I assemble the next LightStick, remembering just how easily Jess had shut me down and pushed me away on all levels.
She'd also fully abandoned me here in Geekstuff.com's plastic sweatshop. Alone.
Percy starts whistling, “This old man…he played one…he played knick-knack on my thumb.”
Worse than alone.
Apparently, Jess had begged Mr. Foley to have a week on the back end of things.
He told me the whole story. Said he just couldn't deny such a motivated and heart-felt request. He'd sent her straight to study the order fulfillment and call center processes without question. He asked me if I minded first. I told Mr. Foley what he wanted to hear.
That I didn't mind at all.
I about cracked a molar faking that answer and keeping my face straight. I have no idea how Jess has any teeth left in her mouth after the manipulation acts she puts on every day. The girl didn't lie about one fact, though.
Faking that you're happy and everything is ‘super-awesome’ takes way too much energy. I've never felt more exhausted in my whole life.
I glare at Percy's back. We're each assembling our own tables of LightStick parts. “At least you don't have to stop for narcoleptic naps,” I say.
“What? Narcoleptic? What's that?” Percy looks up.
“Nothing. I was saying that we will probably be done with these by Friday? Don't you think?”
“If we're being optimistic. It's a possibility.” Percy eyes the piles of yet to be assembled toy parts and shakes his head. “I'm sort of regretting my trade out. I never thought I'd admit to missing my cardboard boxes and computer after only three days away from shipping.”
“Three days! F-ing three days! GOD!” I throw another LightStick, green this time, into the box. “At least you didn't have to do the ladybugs and frogs.”
I jam the next topper, blue this time, on so hard it almost cracks. To test it, I push the on button once, and pause a moment to study the completed product. When lit, the blue version has the exact same hue of Jess's eyes. “The stupid blue ones piss me off.”
I toss it away from me into the box near Percy-from-Shipping.
“I refuse to do any more of that color. Are you okay with that, dude?” I shout. “I'm off the blues.”
Percy shoots me an alarmed look. “No problem. I suppose I hate the red ones. You do the reds, I'll do the blues?” His voice sounds cautious, like he's humoring me.
“Deal,” I say, trying to calm down. Percy isn't such a bad guy.
Tuesday, he'd actually been kind of fun. Tuesday had been the day I'd convinced myself to stop being pissed off and agree that Jess's plan to totally ignore me was the only plan that made sense. I'd actually made myself believe that too. It is her contract. They're her nightmares. Tuesday I told myself I should simply be grateful and walk away. I know for a fact, that after the interviews had taken place, this would have been her internship, not mine. Tuesday, I'd told myself I was lucky to still be getting paid.
“Stupid Tuesday,” I mutter, throwing another LightStick. “But today is suck-ass Wednesday, isn't it? Percy-from-Shipping. It's Wednesday today, isn't it?” I'm shouting louder now.
Percy darts me another look. “Dude. Maybe you should take a break.”
“I'm just fed up. Fed up! What about what I want?” I yell again, hardly registering what Percy just said. I fling another completed LightStick into the box like it's a missile, wishing it would explode.
“Porter. You're freaking me out. Are you some sort of mental case?” Percy backs away from the workspace.
“Sorry.” I shake my head as I pick up another LightStick. I decide to just tell him my deal. Percy-from-Shipping likes it when I want to talk. “I know I'm acting crazy but, I'm in love with this girl. Major love. And I have no idea what to do about it, so it's messing with my sanity.”
Percy lets out a long breath as he walks back to his table. “Ah. That explains it. You've been sketching me out all morning. Love, huh? Poor bastard. Have you told her?”
“No. I'm planning to, though. That's why I'm all agitated. I have no idea how to do it.”
“Just man up. We all have to put our hearts in the fire to get the ladies. No danger—no dates.”
“We're already dating. Sort of dating. Only, I think she broke up with me last week.”
“Ah. Was it the let's-be-friends scenario? Brutal. Like anyone wants a friend over a girlfriend. Girls suck with that line.”
“I don't even rate the friend option. She's just done with me. Won't even try.”
“Sorry kid. But on the flip side, if she's on that trip, then there's nothing left for you to lose. Play the wild card and make a fool out of yourself. See what happens. It's not like she can double-un-friend you.”
“It's not that simple. I've got so much shit I need to come clean about. Once she knows my deal, there's the chance she might never talk to me again.”
“Holy shit. Did you sleep with her best friend or cousin or something?”
“Hell no! Nothing like that.” I laugh.
He shrugs. “Then you're good.” Percy tosses his next LightStick into the box extra hard along with me. “Women. They mess us all up.”
I spin one of the LightSticks in the air. “The girl is going to cost me a ton of money too.”
“Money? Don't they all cost money?”
“I'm going to lose out on four thousand dollars. I'll possibly have to delay my college start date to make things right too.”
Percy lets out a long, low whistle. “And if she still rejects you? Is she worth risking that much?”
“More. So much more.”
“Dude, you're pathetic. And you're toast. You know that, right?”
“Yeah. I know.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jess
I snap open my eyes when the tapping starts on my side window. I haven't been able to sleep anyhow. That's mostly because when I pulled in, Gray had been parked nearby, reading in his car. Pretending to read, that is.
All this time, I've been pretending to sleep, so there! I can't believe he waited this long.
I grab my bag and open the door, trying to ignore him. But ignoring Gray Porter is like ignoring an elephant in a tutu. A really hot elephant—in a very manly tutu.
Of course I have to look. Especially when I've denied myself the sight of him for days. He's perfect in his brown cargo shorts, sporting the black Star Wars tee Mr. Foley gave us last week as a bonus. I pull my cardigan tightly closed over my middle. No need for him to notice that we're wearing matching shirts.
The sexy smell of limes is coming off his damp hair in waves right now. I never noticed limes before Gray Porter. And now, when we're in the supermarket I sniff them like a psycho and then put them back. It's a shock how often limes are on TV too. They're everywhere. My favorite burrito shop even uses fresh lime juice to make the salt stick to their hand fried tortilla chips. UGH. I used to be able to resist eating more than a few, but lately, I've become a lime-chip-aholic.
“Did you get enough sleep?” he asks.
“Because it's easy to nap when I'm being
stared at?” I snap. “Why are you here?”
“Jess…”
I meet his hurt, way too intense gaze. I'm unable to hold it for long. It's been only seconds and he's already got my defenses malfunctioning on every level.
I solidify my expression to flat. Bored. Dead.
He sighs. “I wouldn't have to hunt you down if you'd text me back. I've called every night at seven. And left messages, every other hour. Why won't you talk to me?”
“The contract states you must text and call me. There's nothing in there about reciprocating.”
“That's why?”
I stare at him unblinking.
“God. You're serious.” He crosses his arms and glares. He's standing so close I feel heat radiating off him. Heat I've craved like an addict after being wrapped in his arms the other night. I pull a Red Bull out of my bag and pop the top right under his nose. Thankfully, he takes the hint and steps back.
“I can't believe you're sulking around the parking lot like this,” I cover. My heart rushes into my throat because I've made the mistake of looking into his eyes. I chase it away by gulping down the remainder of the Red Bull. No matter how fast he makes my heart race, I'm not going to fall for his magic this time. “I—you—said we were late. I need to get inside.”
“I do too. But—I miss you. Can we please have lunch today? Get Mr. Foley to transfer you back to LightSticks and the DigiToyTech stuff. I know we can work this out.” He gently grabs my arm and turns me to face him.
“No,” I say, pulling away from his grip to start walking again. He follows. “Gray, no hard feelings about me skating on the tradeshow project. I want to be in Shipping. I'm here to learn. As for lunch, I can't. Thursday is the department's monthly meeting. All staff members are required to attend. They give us free food.”
“Whatever. You're probably making that up.”
“Not. They're going to preview a new box-taping machine. The thing is awesome. Tapes over 400 multi-sized boxes per hour. Mr. Foley's asked me to run the training slideshow. I've been memorizing the bullet points.”
“Tomorrow, then. Noon. I know Foley gave you the afternoon off. Meet me in our office, if you can remember where that is. Back hall, first closet on the right. Your desk is the one squished up next to mine. Face to face.” His voice sounds half angry, half accusing. “We'll talk. I'll bring sandwiches. Say yes.”
“I said, no! Why can't you get the message through your head? I can't be around you.”
“Why? Why are you treating me like this?! God, do you piss me off,” he shouts.
I turn my expression to stone but it's almost impossible to hold. My brain is firing off different versions of what I'll say next to make him understand me permanently; but he jogs in front of me forcing me to stop again.
He grabs onto my hands.
I glance at his sneakers—not his face. Too dangerous. I'm panicking because my mind has been wiped clean by the simple feel of his palms against mine. I love that feeling.
“You're being unfair. You owe me at least the respect to hear what I have to say,” he says. His voice is gentle…and low and rumbling. Zero anger.
Damn him and that voice and his hands.
I want to scream “foul” or “off sides” or any sports call that could make him stop weaving his way so easily into my soul. I try to regroup, but…his hands are so gentle on mine. I move my gaze to his fingers, and let my mask drop away.
“You're blisters are almost healed.”
“Yeah.” His thumbs traverse the back of my palms. I should let go, but I simply don't want to. I glance at his face. Any remaining defenses I'd stockpiled against him fold under the absolute anguish and confusion I see in his eyes. I've caused this. I've hurt him, and he's right. I do owe him at least some sort of explanation for why I pushed him so far over a cliff. I shiver. Could I simply tell him the truth about myself? If he knows all, he'll understand my permanent limitations.
“Tomorrow.” I nod. “Twelve noon. I'll really listen. But you have to promise to listen to me right back. Even if you don't like what you hear, you need to hear me back. Deal?”
“Okay. I will. I will.” He smiles and the dimple flashes. The relief in his voice makes his eyes seem over-bright as though he's feverish, or holding back tears.
But that's impossible because I'm the one doing that. I feel like a floating puff of mist. One so fragile and light, that if this boy blinks, I could easily disappear—be lost forever. But I know it's too late. I've been lost since the day he smashed his backpack into my car.
Stupid love. Stupid color green.
Why does Gray have the power to make me feel like this when I'm intelligent enough to know it's all a mirage? I wonder if this feeling will crush me when the summer's over. When I'm not allowed to hold his hands anymore.
When he walks past me in the hallways with his real girlfriend next year.
Will we smile and laugh about our secrets? Or will I die because I have to breathe his same air? I work my hands out of his, and together we walk inside. It's impossible to recover my back off mask, so I don't even try. “Um. Thanks. For…you know…finding me. I'm glad I'll get the chance to explain better. What happened at your house—all I said that night. I'm sure I wasn't making any sense.”
Gray lets me pass in front of him through the lobby. “Jess, I'm the one who needs to explain. Everything. Why I've been acting like a complete weirdo around you. I tried to give you space. Do what you wanted, but I can't. I know we can be friends. And—well, I think, I hope, you might want that—”
I bump him shoulder to shoulder to shut him up.
His whispered words have wreaked havoc along the back of my neck. I'm covered in goose-bumps. Worse, uncontrollably blushing like mad.
The GeekStuff.com receptionist has overheard Gray's indecipherable cluster of words. She's giving us this knowing smirk. Can't blame her, as we'd been holding hands for a really long time out there. I flush even more. “I uh…gotta go.”
Gray, looking more flustered and awkward than I've ever seen him shakes his head. “Right. I'm an idiot. Tomorrow.”
His voice follows me down the hallway. “When I text you tonight will you answer? Please?”
I don't look back. If I see his face I'll change my mind. I have to be strong. He'll understand where I'm coming from, eventually. Maybe we can be friends after this is all over like he says. But not until he knows the truth about me.
“No.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jess
“Jess!” Dad's voice trails up the stairs. “I need some kitchen help.”
I head out of my room and meet Kika in the hallway hauling a full laundry basket along with her. “Any idea why Dad sounds extra industrious? What did you see down there? Is it bad?” I ask.
“He's making that marinade sauce for the meat from scratch this time. The chili meat? For the burgers on Sunday?” Kika arches her brow and blocks my progress by turning the laundry basket to the side.
I pretend to ignore her attempt to block me and try to squeeze past her, keeping my voice light. “Oh. I should have known! He wants me to chop the onions.” I force a smile but my heart has turned to weighted stones. Dad always makes his special super tenderized meat before a big BBQ. He makes it when he wants to impress someone. That someone is supposed to be my boyfriend, one Corey Nash. To be delivered in person in three days time.
Just because things have been off between me and Gray, doesn't mean I was stupid enough to cancel the barbecue plan. Yet.
“Jess. I'm waiting,” Dad calls up again.
“Be there in a minute,” I match the sing-song voice Dad's used and meet the challenge in my sister's eyes. “What's up?”
Kika won't budge out of my way. “What's up with you?” Her tone is sarcastic and pissed off.
“Nothing.” I push the basket forcefully out of my way and head for the stairs.
“Oh no you don't.” Kika drops the basket with a thump. She catches me on the upper landing. “
He's coming, right? To the BBQ?”
“Corey? Of course he is.” I blink slowly and shoot her my best ‘what's-wrong-with-you’ glare and head down the stairs. She follows. “No. Not him. I'm talking about your boyfriend. Is he coming? And don't try to pretend. Anyone could see that guy, Corey Nash, was into that other girl and not into you.”
We stop in the front entrance. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“I mean the other guy. The black haired, model-looking dude? Did you not see him, because I sure did. He's tall. Got green eyes, and he's major hot and very in to YOU. The one you were skating with, and you know it!” she shouts.
I check the hallways for signs of our parents. “Who do you think you are, butting into my life? You don't know anything,” I whisper.
She doesn't whisper back. “I'm your sister. And I know a whole lot. Seriously, I'm about to blow up. Start talking.”
“Tell me what you think you know,” I divert.
“And give you the chance to twist your story again?” Kika crosses her arms and shoots me her little death glare—the one that wouldn't even wilt a daisy. “You tell me the truth first, starting with his real name, and then I might tell you what I'm meant to share with Mom and Dad.”
I admire her answer. The girl's quick, and she's also scaring the hell out of me. I motion Kika to follow me into the deep, bench-lined alcove that makes up the area inside our front door. “This is really none of your business. What have you already told them?”
“Nothing. But if the right guy doesn't show on Sunday afternoon, then you're going down. I'm done covering for you, especially when you haven't even told me one single thing.”
“You're seriously threatening me?”
“Yes. I'm completely freaked. You don't even know how horrible it sounds when you scream in the middle of the night, because you're asleep. But I've been listening to you lose it all week. You're so lucky Dad's deaf and Mom was at a conference. Or they'd already be involved. I should have told Mom the second she hit the driveway. But I didn't. Because I thought you'd talk to me—about stuff—about what's going on. Jess. WHAT'S GOING ON?”
