by Hazel Kelly
I bent down to help her without saying any of the charming things I hoped would come to mind.
“Thanks,” she said.
I couldn’t have been more excited if I’d discovered my dog could talk. I smiled and kept helping, noticing every single one of her pencils was sharpened to perfection. I didn’t know why that surprised me. Then I saw her left-handed scissors.
“You’re a lefty?”
She nodded.
“Me too.”
She raised her eyebrows, and I noticed she had sparkly, purple eyelids.
“I’m Sebastian. I live next door to you.”
“I know,” she said, closing her pencil box. “I like your haircut.”
I ran a hand through my hair and rose to my feet alongside her, freaking out inside that she’d noticed me.
“Do you want to walk with me the rest of the way, or would you rather peddle behind me like before?”
My cheeks burned. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get lost on your way home.”
She squinted at me like she knew it was bull. Like she knew full well I’d been doing it all week.
“I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”
She shook her head. “Not at all. Quite the opposite.”
My stomach cartwheeled.
“So what’ll it be?” she asked, zipping her backpack closed and swinging it over her shoulder.
I picked up my bike and nodded down the street as I took a step towards home.
She followed suit, strolling down the center of the sidewalk. “You’re welcome, by the way,” she said after we’d passed a few driveways.
“Excuse me?”
“For dropping my pencil case.”
I furrowed my brow. “What?”
“So you’d have an excuse to introduce yourself.”
Shit. Not only was she beautiful, but she was smarter than me. I was hooked. Pathetic and awestruck, but hooked.
“I’m glad you finally said hi, anyway,” she said, casting her eyes in my direction.
“Me too.”
“It’ll make it less weird now when you watch me from your bedroom window.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came to my rescue.
“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s not exactly my first time being the new kid.”
“Where did you come from?” I asked. “Your family, I mean.”
“Paterson.”
“Are you a typical Jersey girl?” I wondered aloud, suddenly conscious of her Italian features.
“Depends on who’s asking.”
I turned my handlebars to dodge a pothole.
“Yes, if you’re a Bruce Springsteen fan,” she said. “No, if you’re asking because you’ve seen Jersey Shore.”
“You like The Boss?”
“Doesn’t everybody?”
The red shirt under her overalls was short enough that I could see a few inches of her bare skin as she strolled beside me. It looked smooth and beautiful, and I remembered being surprised that my mouth seemed to water upon noticing it.
“What?” she asked. “Why are you making that thinking face?”
I swallowed. “Do you want to go to homecoming with me?”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough.”
She rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to be polite just ’cause I’m the new kid. I’m not that into school dances.”
“Me neither.”
She pushed some dark hair out of her eyes.
“But I am into left-handed Springsteen fans who keep their pencils in good condition.”
One corner of her mouth curled up. “Wow. Then I suppose you can’t believe your luck right now?”
“Not since the day you moved in.”
She pressed her lips together. “That’s sweet.”
“Is that a yes?”
“I don’t know.”
“C’mon. I already got my hair cut and everything.”
She looked down and kept walking, scuffing her heels against the concrete but stepping over every crack. “I’m Lily, by the way,” she said, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye.
“Sebastian.” I stopped my bike and extended my hand. When she took it, I bent over to kiss it like my dad always did when he was joking around with my mom. “An absolute pleasure to officially meet you.”
She laughed. “No one’s ever kissed my hand before.”
And in that moment, I knew I wanted to be the first to kiss her everywhere.
T E N
- Sebastian -
I wanted to kiss her. God, how I wanted to kiss her.
I was desperate to know if she tasted as sweet as I remembered, if our chemistry was as explosive as it was all those years ago… Or if my imagination and scorned heart had simply magnified what we had.
Then again, based on how it felt to lift her hand to my lips, I knew I hadn’t imagined any of it.
And I could see by the shine in her eyes that she would’ve let me kiss her, too, that she might’ve even kissed me back. That haunting thought alone— the thought that I’d failed to seize the first chance I’d had in years to show her I still cared— made me ache all the way home in places I didn’t even know could hurt.
But I couldn’t do it.
Not when Tiffany was still sulking around my apartment, crying over her hangover. I wasn’t about to kiss another woman until she and I were on the same page. After all, not only would it be unfair to her, but the last thing I wanted was for my relationship with Lily to grow from a place of dishonesty.
She deserved better than that.
Not that she’d given me any reason to think I might be able to rekindle what we had. Hell, she hadn’t given me much at all. At times, she was almost catlike in her movements and expressions. I couldn’t tell if her coyness was affected or if there was a genuine shyness there, a shyness that was as sexy as it was unfamiliar.
Her behavior made me wonder what her last few years had been like.
Her confidence was still intact, but there was a sadness to her, too, a sadness that seemed to come on immediately following any moment in which she realized she was having a good time.
I unlocked the door to my place and pushed it open. Tiffany was sitting on the couch in skimpy pajamas with her feet up on the coffee table and her laptop in front of her.
“What adjective would you use to describe a backless dress?”
I dropped my keys on the side table and went to join her on the couch. “I don’t know. Provocative, maybe? Alluring?”
She twisted her bare lips.
“Depends on how trashy the dress is.”
I sat down next to her and looked at the picture on the screen. “Short and backless, huh? Skanky might be more accurate.”
She rolled her eyes, and I couldn’t help but notice how pretty they were when they didn’t have to fight against five pounds of false eyelashes to move around.
“We need to talk, Tiff.”
She set her computer on the couch beside her and turned towards me. “Look, I know I was out of line on Friday, and it won’t happen again.”
“I hope not,” I said. “For your sake, but—”
“Where were you just now?” She eyed me skeptically.
“I met an old friend for drinks.”
“You smell like tacos.”
“And tacos.”
She squinted. “Does your old friend have a vagina?”
“Last I checked.”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, yeah. She’s a woman. That’s what you’re asking, isn’t it?”
“Should I be worried?”
I raised my eyebrows. “About…?”
“Us.”
“Yes and no.”
She folded her arms.
“No because there is no us.”
Her face paled.
“And yes because you need to move out.”
&nb
sp; She laughed.
“This isn’t a joke. I’m done.”
“This is exactly what Amber’s boyfriend did right before he proposed. Got all distant. Made her doubt the relationship. Please don’t fuck with me like that.”
“I’m not fucking with you. Seriously. Ever again. Literally not fucking with you.”
“Is it the coke?”
“It’s partly the coke.”
“I’ll stop.”
I shook my head.
“You should be with someone who loves you, Tiff. Someone who has similar…energy levels.”
“But we have so much in common.”
“The fact that we both like Bob’s Burgers and sweet potato fries is not enough to keep us going.”
“Where am I supposed to go?”
“I don’t care,” I said. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I have no more fucks left to give.”
“Now you’re just being mean.”
“Thank you for taking this so well.”
“I have nowhere to go, Sebastian.”
“I’ll give you a week.”
“Even if I found a place, I have no money.”
“Don’t lie to me. I know you got paid on Thursday.”
“That money’s gone.”
I craned my neck forward. “Gone where?”
Her eyes told me everything I needed to know before she even broke the news. “I gave it to Bobby.”
My stomach dropped. “You gave that guy two grand for blow? Bobby’s not even his real name!”
“It was going to last me for ages,” she said. “And Tracey said she’d buy half of it off me.”
“Where were you going to keep all this shit when he gave it to you?”
She looked down at her lap.
“Is there any here right now?”
She bit the inside of her lip.
“Tiffany. If there’s a bunch of fucking coke in my apartment, I have a right to know about it.”
“There’s not,” she said, meeting my gaze. “Not a bunch, anyway.”
“Where?”
“In the closet.”
“Which closet?”
“In the bedroom.”
“Where in the closet?”
“In my Chanel.”
I sprang up from the couch and bolted, pushing her off me when she latched on to my arm.
“Please don’t, Sebastian. I’ll take it somewhere else right now, and I promise I won’t bring it back.”
“You’re really letting yourself down right now.” I pulled a clear sandwich bag from her purse that contained more coke than I’d ever seen at once. Christ. How could she have this much already and turn around and spend her entire paycheck on more? “You’re lucky you even have a septum,” I said, dropping her purse and heading to the bathroom.
“Please, Sebastian, no!”
I turned the bag over and dumped the lot in the toilet.
She looked like she was going to pull her hair out.
I flushed it down and waited for the bowl to refill. Then I flushed it again.
“This is so fucked up,” she said, her palms plastered to her forehead.
“Tell me about it,” I said, trying not to think about my dad as I grabbed the squirt bottle of bleach behind the toilet, drizzled it around the bowl, and flushed it again.
“Stop okay? It’s gone. Fuck.” She fell against the doorframe. “Fuck!”
“You must think I’m an idiot,” I mumbled, pushing my way past her and heading to the bedroom.
“Only because selling that was my only shot at making the money I need to move out of here.”
I sighed and spun around, my fingers poised on the buttons of my shirt. At least she wasn’t making this more dramatic than it needed to be by saying she still cared about me.
“I still love you, ya know?”
I groaned and dropped my head back. “I think you should stay the night at Tracey’s.”
“I can’t.”
“Because…?”
“She just moved in with her boyfriend.”
“Where are you going to go then?” I asked.
“I told you. I have nowhere to go.”
I threw my dress shirt on the edge of the bed and pulled a worn T-shirt from my dresser. “You have a problem, Tiffany. You need real help.”
“I know,” she said, quietly.
“If you don’t stop snorting that shit, you’re going to destroy all the good opportunities you’ve worked so hard for.”
She shrugged, and her shoulders looked so slight I hardly recognized her. All I recognized was that she was vulnerable. And desperate.
I clenched my jaw and exhaled through my nose. “You can stay on one condition.”
She pressed her lips together.
“And not as my girlfriend.”
She nodded.
“You have to get help. Every day. Starting tomorrow.”
She played with the bottom edge of her tank top.
“That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”
“Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“Okay, thanks.”
I fixed my eyes on hers. “You’re welcome.”
“I’m sorry, Sebastian. I don’t know how things got this crazy.”
“Get whatever you need from my room,” I said, gesturing behind me. “I’ll make up the pullout in the office.”
E L E V E N
- Lily -
He must’ve known I wanted him to kiss me.
So what stopped him?
Had I said something wrong? Did he not trust me anymore? He shouldn’t, obviously. I mean, a person couldn’t betray another’s trust any more severely than I’d betrayed his.
Well, there was one way, but my father had nothing to do with this.
I shook my head to strike his horrid memory from my mind and stepped off the elevator.
Was it really the lack of a goodnight kiss I was upset about? Or was it the fact that I’d forgotten what it was like to genuinely want someone? Who knows?
All I knew was that he was attracted to me. His eyes gave him away more than once. So what was holding him back?
I unlocked my door and kicked my shoes off immediately. No matter how sexy I felt in heels, I still found them torturous and often missed the days when I insisted on wearing my Converse All-Stars everywhere. Even to school dances and church, much to my mother’s dismay.
“Honey, I’m home,” I called, wandering into the kitchen. I entered just as Vivian was doing a line off the countertop.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said, swiping her nose. “I’m just getting rid of it.”
“And that’s the only way?” I glanced at the clock. “It’s midnight on a Sunday.”
“I can hear the judgement in your voice, and I don’t appreciate it.” She dragged her finger across the powder she’d missed and rubbed it on her gums.
“Since when do you even do that shit?”
“Since Primetime started giving it to me for free.”
Primetime. The newscaster she’d met six months ago. Unbelievable. “Seriously? He’s, like, the most clean-cut-looking guy I’ve ever seen.”
“Probably ’cause he likes to get all coked up and groom himself.”
I laid my purse on the kitchen counter and watched her wipe the invisible granules away. “Do you remember what you told me when you coached me before my first job?”
She groaned.
“Do you?”
“There’s an exception to every rule.”
I cocked my head. “You said the difference between us and prostitutes is that we’re high-class professionals. Then you made me promise I’d never do drugs or have unprotected sex because the whole point of this gig—and please correct me if I’m misquoting you—is to make our lives better, not destroy them.”
She rolled her eyes. “Teachers are always more strict the first week of school.”
I squinted at her. “Should I be worried about this? I don’t mean to b
e a miserable square, but I don’t want that shit here. And even more, I don’t really want you hanging out with people who encourage you to get fucked up before they fuck you.”
“Chill, Lily. It was one line. It’s not like I bought it.”
I scoffed.
“What?”
“Just be careful, Viv. Coke makes people greedy.”
She swung her dark red hair behind her shoulders. “People are greedy anyway.”
“Maybe, but in our business, greedy clients are dangerous clients and greedy escorts are unemployed escorts.”
“Is this lecture over yet?”
I nodded.
“Thank God. Where were you tonight?” she asked, eyeing the white dress I’d borrowed. “You can keep that, by the way. It looks way better on you.”
“I met an old friend for drinks.”
“An old friend with a penis?”
“Last I checked.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”
“He was sort of my high school sweetheart, as cheesy as that sounds.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Did you have a good time?”
I opened my mouth to speak but sighed instead.
“That good, huh?”
“I’m afraid to admit what a good time I had.”
“What does he do?”
“He’s a trader.”
“Shame he doesn’t know what you do,” she said. “He’d probably be an eligible client.”
“He wouldn’t.”
“Why? Because you’d let him have you for free?”
“It’s not like that. And what makes you think he doesn’t know what I do?”
“Because you’re blushing at the thought of him, which means you like him. Which means you’ve probably been lying to him all night.”
I swallowed.
“I’m glad you had fun, though. That’s really…pedestrian of you.”
I tore my eyes from her and went to get a glass of water. Was she actually trying to make me feel guilty for the first thing I didn’t feel guilty about in years? Or was she just jealous that she didn’t even remember what it was like to not fake it with somebody, to not spend time with them simply because of the cash at the end of the tunnel?
“I have a job for you Friday,” she said, hoisting herself onto the counter and crossing her ankles.
The juxtaposition between her Sesame Street T-shirt and the coke in her nose was mind-boggling.
