by RH Tucker
“Thanks?”
Leaning against the wall, he folds his arms, staring at me. I’m not sure what this is. A big brother kind of talk? He’s a dad, so even though he’s only a couple of years older than me, maybe he’s trying to pull the dad card. Or perhaps he’s more serious than he’s letting on and is really thinking about kicking me out.
“I haven’t known you that long, Taylor, but you’ve always seemed pretty cool. Easy going and just like to have fun.” I nod, focusing on the white-tiled floor. “So tell me, what’s changed?”
“Nothing’s changed. It’s like you said, you haven’t known me that long. This is just how I am.”
“I hit up Micah, asked him if he wanted to meet up tonight, too.” I roll my eyes at his comment, knowing the direction this is going. “He said he was busy. Then he asked if you were okay. Not how you were, or to tell you ‘what’s up,’ but if you were okay.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So, he’s your best friend. Or, at least, he was. Why’s he asking if you’re okay?”
“Because Micah’s a good friend.” I take a deep breath, wanting to just disappear into my new room, blocking everything out. “Ethan, if you don’t want me here, just give me a couple of days. I didn’t want to, but I’ll call my parents and go back home. It looks like my employment opportunity just went to hell anyway.”
“Taylor, it’s not that. You can stay here as long as you need. I just don’t know if you’re a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode because of some crazy stuff going on in your life. And not to sound like an overprotective father, but that’s kind of what I am now.”
“I get it. I do,” I say, finally meeting his eyes. “And I appreciate your help. Seriously. I’ve just …” Taking another long breath, I scan the tiles of the floor, hoping to find answers for questions I’ve lived with for years now. “I feel like I keep messing everything up. For years now, and I try to play it off, but it seems to catch up.”
“How so?”
“How so …” I repeat, letting out an annoyed chuckle at myself. “Sucker punching Micah. Telling Sasha to get the hell out of my life. I push people away and make them feel like it’s their fault when I know it’s my own.” I take another deep breath. “And this is all happening so close to when my life shattered into a million pieces back in high school and … and …”
“Hey.” He reaches over and grabs my shoulder. “I get it.”
“No, man. You seriously don’t. I screwed everything up, and I just keep screwing everything up.”
A long pause rests between us. I stare aimlessly at the counter in front of me, feeling lost, and yet a little at ease. This is the first time in I don’t know how long that I’ve talked to someone honestly. I haven’t told him everything, but it’s enough that I wish I’d say more. But I don’t.
“We all have our own mountains to climb. I don’t know what you went through, Taylor, but I know what I went through. It’s difficult trying to learn to be a dad one month after graduating high school. And I wasn’t going to be anything like the father I had, which was nonexistent, so I made it happen. But I had and still have people in my life I can count on. People I can trust. I don’t know what you’re dealing with, but if you need to talk, feel free to reach out to me. Go make amends with Micah. Reach out to Sasha. Do something, man, because bottling it up like you’re doing is only going to lead to you hating yourself and hating people around you. You don’t want to live like that.”
Chapter 25
Sasha
“Pineapple is disgusting.” Tara sticks her tongue out, acting like she’s gagging, pointing at the fruit on the stand.
“Not as disgusting as eggs,” I respond.
Her perfectly arched eyebrows lift as she shakes her head at me. “You and eggs. I don’t get it, you cook with them, but you won’t eat them.”
“Cooking with them is different,” I reply, browsing the next stand, as we stroll through the farmers’ market. “They’re a binding agent. They serve a purpose when you cook or bake with them. But the taste?” Now it’s my turn to gag.
Tara giggles as we turn down another open aisle of the market. We’ll visit it occasionally, either just looking around, or like today, when I’m on the hunt for something different I want to make for dinner.
Felicia catches up to us, handing Tara and me our frozen slushy drinks. “Sorry I took so long. This lady in front of me took forever. So, what’d we decide on?”
“Ms. Picky over here still hasn’t.” Tara nudges me with her elbow, sipping her drink.
“I want to try something new and not the same old, boring stuff I always cook,” I fire back.
Bumping my other elbow, Felicia nods in front of us. “Hey, don’t you work with him?”
Ian leans over a counter, grabbing potatoes and then radishes, putting them in a bag. Pulling out his wallet, he hands the seller some bills before getting his change and then looks over, waving as he sees us.
“Hey, Ian,” I call out, and we head over to him.
“He’s cute,” Felicia whispers in my ear, and I shoot her a scowling glare.
He is cute. Short, dark brown hair with matching eyes, gauges in both ears, and some tattoos on both forearms that I’ve never seen all the way, as they travel up his arms, but his chef jacket is usually covering them. He has broad shoulders, but a leaner build. Definitely not as big as Taylor.
Damn it. I almost went a full day without thinking about that jerk.
“Hey, what’s up, Sasha? Tara.” He smiles at her and then looks at Felicia, unsure.
“Sorry, this is my sister, Felicia.” He nods. “What are you doing?”
“Oh.” He motions to the bag of produce. “You know how Adam hired that new kitchen hand? Well, Manny’s giving him the run down and wanted me to grab a few more things before the dinner rush. What are you guys up to?”
“Sasha’s being indecisive on what she wants to cook tonight,” Tara quips.
“Excuse you,” I reply, poking her arm. “Maybe a little more gratitude, since you not only come over and eat all of my food, but I’m practically your personal chef now.”
“Sounds like you could use a night off and someone cooking for you for a change.”
“Yeah, like that’ll ever happen.”
I roll my eyes, laughing, and look over at Felicia. She’s not laughing at my joke. Instead, her eyes dart back and forth between Ian and me, and then she wiggles her eyebrows. Ian lets his joke hang in the air, and when I return my attention to him, he smirks.
Clearing my throat, I reach over to a nearby fruit stand and randomly inspect grapefruit. “Anyway, um …”
“Yeah, I better get back.” Looking back at him, I watch as he smiles again and raises the bag he’s carrying. “You know Manny. He’ll be complaining I was gone too long.”
“Ugh, that guy would complain about winning the lottery.”
Exchanging chuckles again, he waves good-bye, then turns and leaves. Felicia bumps my hip with hers. “Girl, what is wrong with you?”
“What?”
“I’ve already told her, Licia,” Tara says as we all begin to walk again.
“He’s cute, Sash,” Felicia repeats.
“We work together.” I shake my head, a few pieces of hair falling into my face. “Plus—”
“Don’t even mention his name. I told you what happened.” She holds up her finger.
“I wasn’t gonna say it,” I lie, and continue aimlessly looking at the different stands.
“Ian is cute,” Tara repeats. “And he’s got tattoos. I always thought those were kind of hot.”
“Then you go out with him, Tara,” I snap at her, immediately feeling regret. “Sorry.”
“Hey.” Felicia stops me, pulling at my arm. “I’m sorry, okay?”
“For what?”
“For egging you on to do the whole friends with benefits thing in the first place. I feel like it’s partly my fault you started to fall for an asshat like Taylor.”
�
�Me too.” Sinking her head between her shoulders, Tara takes another sip of her drink. “I just thought it’d be easier that way.”
“You guys …” I shake my head, picking up a bundle of carrots before putting it back down. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m a big girl, I knew what I was doing. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.”
“Don’t even, Sash.” Felicia points at me again. “He’s the one to blame. He’s the one that’s pushing people away. Tara told me she talked to Micah at school. I can’t believe he’d get in a fight with what’s supposed to be his best friend.”
“Yeah, but it is my fault.” I pick at my cuticles. I could really use a manicure. “Not the whole thing, but he told me, Licia. He told me point blank he was messed up, and I just thought it was a stupid guy thing. Or maybe it was like he’d had a bad childhood or something. And I figured I could be there for him.”
Tara wraps her arm around me. “Come on, you’re not cooking tonight.”
I let out a pathetic chuckle, following her. “You are so not cooking. I still haven’t gotten over the burnt spaghetti from last year. How do you burn pasta that’s supposed to be boiling in water?”
She laughs. “Believe me, I still haven’t found out what I did wrong. And no, I’m not cooking. This night just turned into a pizza delivery night, with a side of ice cream.”
All three of us laugh and leave the farmers’ market, heading back to the apartment, where Felicia orders the pizza. Turning on the TV, Tara grabs the half-gallon tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream from our freezer, with three spoons, and we proceed to watch Netflix and devour the ice cream, as we wait for the pizza to arrive.
When the doorbell rings, my mood’s gotten better … but it suddenly sinks lower than it was before. Taylor—not the pizza delivery person—stands at the door.
“Hey,” he says, giving me a weak smile. I scold myself for thinking of how sexy he is in his tight T-shirt.
“Hey.”
“No,” Felicia yells from behind, and I hear her footsteps walking toward us, but can’t break my eyes away from his. “No, you get the hell out of here.”
“Felicia.” I finally turn to her, but she puts her hand in my face.
“Don’t ‘Felicia’ me.” Turning to face him, she jabs her finger into his chest. “I told her what you did.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Fine, then where you were and what you probably would’ve done if you hadn’t seen me.”
His jaw goes rigid, and he shakes his head, but never breaks his stare from hers. “Damn it, I wasn’t going to do anything. I was out with friends, that’s it.” He looks back at me. “Sasha, I know I messed up, but I wouldn’t do that. I promise you, I wouldn’t.”
I believe him, for the most part, but I’m also so exasperated by everything. Our last interaction, Felicia’s long-winded story about him, and still trying to figure out what we are. Or even if I want to try and keep up the job of attempting to be something with him. Because that’s what it feels like. A job.
“What do you want, Taylor?” I finally ask.
“To talk. Please?”
I turn to Felicia, and she violently shakes her head no. Looking back at Tara, where she stands in front of our couch, I watch her lifting her shoulders, unsure.
He looks sincere. No, it’s more than that. He seems lost. He’s standing still, his hands in his white-washed jeans pockets, but his body language is defeated. And his face looks like he’s pleading with me to accept his request.
“Okay.” I nod and take a step toward him, about to close the door to give us some privacy, when he stops me.
“Actually, would you come with me? I want to take you somewhere.”
“Oh, hell-to-the-no!” Felicia jerks at my hand. “Sasha, you’re not going anywhere with this asshole.”
“Felicia.” I give her a knowing look. “It’ll be okay.”
“Fine, whatever.” She shakes her head and goes back to the couch.
“Let me get a jacket and my shoes,” I tell Taylor.
Leaving him outside, I shut the door and hurry to my room, grabbing a lightweight red jacket. Sitting at the couch, I slip on my tennis shoes while Felicia scowls at me.
“Sasha, you sure you want to do this?” Tara finally speaks up.
“I don’t know,” I say, finishing tying my shoes, and nervously rub my hands over my legs. “I mean, maybe this is it, or maybe it’s not. I have no idea. But … he’s making an effort.”
“A is for asshole, not effort,” Felicia retorts, staring at the TV, never making eye contact with me.
Taking a deep breath, I realize I can’t argue with her. Not only because—as she’s already noted, multiple times—he’s already called himself that, but he’s proven it. But there are those quiet moments between us, too. He’s not a complete jackass. I know that. And whatever he’s been hiding, maybe it’s something we can work past or maybe it isn’t. I at least want the chance to find that out.
Chapter 26
Taylor
Riding through the traffic, I feel Sasha’s arms wrapped around my waist. I might normally find that satisfying. But I’m a ball of nerves right now.
After the fight with Calvin, and Ethan talking to me, this has been on my mind ninety-five percent of the time. The other five percent is sucking up my pride and apologizing to Micah, but I want this to come first. Micah will still be there … hopefully. With Sasha, the last sentiments I left her with were me yelling at her before telling her to leave me alone. Showing up on her doorstep, I was already thankful she didn’t just slam the door in my face. Though if Felicia had her way, that would’ve been the next thing to happen.
The sun’s setting over the coastline as I drive to my lookout spot. After coming to terms that I need to tell her everything, I wasn’t sure where I should do it. But I have to do it here. It might be a mistake, and she might think I’m crazy when I tell her the reason I come here, but it feels like the right spot. Coming to terms with her, with Reese, and with myself.
Slowing down as we enter the parking lot, I stop the bike and she slides off from behind me. Locking away our helmets, I extend my hand to her. She looks at it unsure for a moment before she takes it. She hasn’t said one word to me since we left her apartment. I can’t blame her.
“So …” I finally break the silence, leading her through the beach sand over toward the small hilltop. “Sorry about the sand. Once you get home, your shoes are gonna be loaded.”
She responds with a simple brow raise and biting her lip.
We walk closer to the water, our feet leaving imprints in the moist dirt, but it’s not wet enough to become muddy. Approaching the base of the hill, she still hasn’t let go of my hand, so I take that as a good sign, and we trek up the side.
The lookout point hangs over the water. The light blue sky mixes with dark orange as the sun sets and I let go of her hand, taking a seat in the sand. Looking back up at her, she watches me cautiously. “Want to sit?”
Staring down at me, she turns and scans the ocean horizon. She’s here, but maybe she’s regretting coming with me. Taking a seat next to me, she sits close, but still keeps an invisible barrier between us.
I revert to my go-to move, running my hand over the sand, unsure where to start. The only other person that knows about this place is Micah. And now that we’re here, I’m not sure if this is the right thing. I don’t know if it’ll fix anything or make everything worse. I just know I need to tell her.
“Taylor …” She trails off, and I look over at her. “What are we doing?”
I nod, mostly to myself, not knowing how to begin. So I just spit it out.
“I’m sorry. For everything, Sasha. I shouldn’t have yelled at you, and I shouldn’t have pushed you away.” I gaze at the sand between my feet, feeling her eyes watching me. “The last few years for me my world got torn apart, and even though I’ve wanted it to go back to normal, I never knew how to do that. And I think a part of me never really wa
nted it to go back to normal. Because then that would mean I’d have to leave behind everything I thought my life was going to be.”
I’m sure it sounds confusing, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, her hands run over my back, stopping at my neck. Her fingers skim over my hair, and just her touch instills a calmness that I need.
“I come to this spot to talk to Reese.” I turn and look over at her, checking on her reaction. She remains stoic, her gaze locked on me. “We had a spot picked out in Santa Monica, nuzzled in between a small cliff, overlooking the beach there. We’d go there and just hang out or do what stupid high schoolers do. And when I moved here, I found this spot. It reminded me of that place, and it gave me something to hold on to.”
Pausing again, I bring my gaze back out over the ocean, the skyline getting darker with the rays of the sun fading.
“Our parents,” I continue, “Reese’s and mine, were high school friends. Our moms specifically. They met in middle school and grew up together. Were best friends throughout high school and college. Still are.
“You know how there are friends who have kids, and the babies are around the same age? That was Reese and me. And then, inevitably, the parents make the joke ‘They’re gonna get married when they get older’? Again, Reese and me. Only it wasn’t a funny joke our moms would say, and we’d later grow up to be friends but go our separate ways. It actually happened. Or, at least, it would have. We grew up together. My mom has pictures of us taking a bath together. She was the only girl I ever gave Valentine’s Day cards to. When she was ten, her parents had her little brother. Anthony Junior. AJ.”
I glance over to her. She stares intently, now closer, her hand on my arm.
“We first kissed in fourth grade. In seventh grade we became ‘official’.” I make air quotes. “Things only escalated when we got into high school. It’s weird, though. For as long as we knew one another, and even though she was all I knew … the only girl I’d ever kissed, I knew. I knew we were it. Her friends all thought it was romantic, like we were soul mates. My friends thought I was insane, but I didn’t care. She was my forever, even as crazy as that sounds, thinking that when I was that young. She was.
