Her face lights up with old memories flickering across her expression. After a moment, she nods. “It was my favorite place. That summer went by too quickly.” She shakes her head like she can’t believe I knew all of that. “You really kept an eye on me, didn’t you?”
“Had to look out for my ladies, didn’t I?”
“We weren’t yours to look after.”
I glance down at the table. “I’m learning that.”
She sighs lightly. “But, for what it’s worth, I’m glad that you did.”
“I know, Ken Doll. I am, too.”
She finishes her lunch in silence.
Age 17
There is only one week left of our junior year of high school, so the library is packed with students doing last minute study sessions and idiots goofing off on their phones. Like me.
Bash: Where are you?
Opal: On my way
For Opal’s birthday two months ago, I got her a cell phone. It was only one of those prepaid flip phone, but I promised her a better one when I had the money. The band has been doing gigs around town. Nothing that paid much. But the practice and exposure are good for us, so it’s worth it.
I even asked her mother for permission. That way she wouldn’t have to hide the phone, which I could tell she was worried about. Somehow, Mrs. Anderson got her husband to agree. She probably spun it for his benefit, but either way, she had it and we talked just about any chance we could get.
Ever since I’d reported the abuse, Opal said things have been better. I’ve been over nearly every night and haven’t heard anything. So, I know she’s not trying to save face for her father. For all I know, her father is afraid of the truth coming out. Or maybe he’s realized what an asshole he is and opted to stop.
One could hope.
Bash: There’s an emergency. Come quick.
“Where’s our girl, man?” Ian asks, tipping back in his chair and flicking the paper football at me. It barely misses my eye, causing me to glare at him.
“She’s not ‘our’ girl, she’s mine.”
“So territorial,” he muses. “She’s practically the band groupie with the amount of time that she spends at practice. That makes her all of ours.”
My jaw ticks. “She’s not a groupie.”
Dylan grabs the paper football and tosses it at Ian, but Ian catches it before it hits him. “We can’t have an official groupie until we have a name. People don’t know what to call us when we get booked for a gig.”
Ian nods. “Truth. Ideas?”
Dylan’s lips quirk into a half grin. “I have a few floating around.”
Ian eyes him. “You’re not allowed to participate since the last suggestion was Dylan and the Pussy Getters. You’re not even the lead singer. It makes no sense.”
Dylan scoffs. “Ian and the Pussy Getters doesn’t have the same ring to it.”
“We’re not using it,” Ian and I say at the same time.
Dylan throws his hands up in surrender.
“We could combine our names somehow,” I suggest, although it’s a weak one. None of our names would mash well into a formable name.
“Where the hell is Ben?” Ian asks, looking around. “We need his help on this. He’s a fourth of the band.”
“He’s in his AP English class,” I remind them, tapping my pen against my notebook.
Dylan rolls his eyes. “I forgot he was a nerd. All the quiet ones are.”
Ian smirks. “You know what else they say about the quiet ones?”
Dylan mirrors Ian’s devious expression. “That they’re freaky when it counts.”
Both the idiots start laughing, causing Ms. Reed to shush us.
Dylan looks at me. “I bet Ben would appreciate my suggestion.”
I snort. Somehow, I doubt that. Ben was the most reserved out of all of us. He never dated, and never went out unless he was forced. He spent quite a bit of time locked away in his room doing God knows what. But he was a hell of a drummer, so we never pushed. As long as he could play, we didn’t care what he did in his spare time.
“Look,” Ian quips, nudging his head toward the doors. “Our groupie has finally arrived.”
I throw my pen at him, and it smacks him straight in the cheek. He chuckles as Opal makes her way to us, face flushed like she rushed.
“What’s the emergency?” she asks as soon as she gets to our table.
I grin. “We need a band name.”
Her jaw drops, and annoyance clouds her eyes. “That’s the emergency? I just ditched Kennedy and Noah because I thought something was wrong!”
“Why were you with Noah?” I question.
“Kennedy still hot?” Ian asks.
Opal glances at Ian. “Why don’t you stop trying to get with her. You’re not her type. Her words, not mine.”
Dylan murmurs, “Wrong gender,” before Opal ‘accidentally’ smacks him with her textbook, looking away innocently.
Everyone thinks Kennedy is a lesbian because she never dates, but that would make a lot of people around here gay. I never understood what the big deal was. Some people don’t want to settle for the people around here, especially not so close to graduation.
“We also need to settle a very important debate of whether you’re our groupie or not,” Ian adds casually, not affected by the brush off regarding Kennedy.
“I told you, she’s not our groupie.”
“Well it’s selfish if she’s just yours,” he rebuttals.
Opal giggles. “You’re ridiculous, Ian.”
I poke her side, causing her to squirm. “So how about it? What should our band name be? Also, I’d happily let you be my groupie any day.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re relentless.”
I tilt my head, studying her.
“Well, shit,” Ian murmurs.
I look over at him. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
His grin mimics my own.
Opal shifts on her feet. “Um, what exactly are we thinking?”
“Relentless,” Ian says for her. “It’s a good band name. It doesn’t single out any of the band members, and it shows our dedication to the craft. We don’t give up until we get shit done.”
Dylan huffs. “Mine was better.”
Opal looks like she’s about to ask what his idea is, but I shake my head. She understands enough to let it go.
“Relentless,” Opal repeats quietly. A smile forms on her face. “I think it’s perfect.”
“Just have to get Ben’s approval.”
Opal gestures behind her. “Oh, I just saw him. His AP class volunteered to help tutor younger students in preparation for their exams. He’s working with Will’s little brother. Ryder, I think his name is?”
Dylan laughs. “They paired up two polar opposites. That kid doesn’t know how to shut up. You should hear him when we used to go over to Will’s place.”
“He wasn’t that bad,” I counter.
Opal agrees. “Whenever I talked to him he seemed nice. Maybe a little bit of a spaz, but he and Ben seem to be getting along okay.”
“Saint Benjamin can do no wrong,” Dylan mocks.
Both Ian and I smack him.
“Hey!” he complains.
“Stop being a dick.”
He grumbles something unintelligent.
Ignoring him, my eyes trail back to Opal. “Are you coming to our gig at Marty’s? He’s letting us play around five.”
She frowns. “I want to, but Dad is going out of town, so Mom is making a special dinner for him before he leaves.”
He’s been going away a lot lately, not that I’m complaining.
“And things have been okay there?” I ask this quietly, so only she can hear. She’s probably sick of me asking, but I can’t help it. We made a pact to be open with each other, and I want her to keep her end of the deal.
“Yes. It’s been good. I mean, not good, but not bad either. Dad keeps to himself, and he’s been traveling a lot. He says it’s work related, but I don’
t think that’s true.”
My brows pinch. “What do you think?”
Her lips purse. “I think he’s having an affair. Mom won’t talk about it. It’s like him being gone is a relief to her. She can breathe easier, Bash. She deserves better, but she’s settling.”
It upsets me that Mrs. Anderson would let him win so easily. Part of me wonders if our talk got to her. We both want to protect Opal, but we’re doing it in two separate ways. Maybe her way is accepting her husband’s absence as a tiny miracle. Or maybe she knows he’s having an affair and using it as leverage. Mrs. Anderson is quiet, but I always see the wheel turning in her head when I’m around.
“Mind if I come over tonight?” I ask her, toying with the hem of her dress. I know Ian and Dylan are still here. When Opal and I are together, it feels like we’re the only two people in the room. Especially when her hypnotizing eyes find mine.
“It’s never stopped you before,” she replies shyly, blushing. “Actually, I was hoping you would. We can listen to music or watch a movie or something.”
Her cheeks turn bright pink, and I don’t know what’s going through her head. Whatever it is intrigues me.
I tap her leg, just below where her dress ends above her knee. “I downloaded some more music onto the iPod, so we can listen to that.”
She smiles. “Okay.”
I leave out that I have a present for her, because I want it to be a surprise. I went to the mall one town over after band practice yesterday and picked out a silver ring with tiny jewels wrapped around it. I’m not crazy enough to think of it as an engagement ring, more like a promise one. It’s been burning a hole in my pocket since I got it, but tonight it’s hers. Along with my heart and everything else that I have to give.
“Hey, lovebirds,” Ian calls, breaking our moment. “Unless you’re going to start making out, break it up.”
Opal’s blush turns into a deep crimson.
Dylan’s devious expression is back as his lips curl up. He digs for something in his backpack before tossing it at me.
A condom.
“Jesus,” I murmur, quickly swiping it before Opal sees.
Too late.
Her eyes are wide as she stares at the foil packet, but she remains speechless. Quickly, I shove it into my bag, shooting Dylan my best what the hell, man glare.
He raises his hands. “Just making sure you kids are safe. Wouldn’t want mini-me’s running around. We ain’t got time for that.”
“Or the money,” Ian adds.
Opal clears her throat. “I’m, uh, going to head out. I promised Kennedy I’d help her with her math homework if Noah couldn’t figure it out.”
I forgot she’d been with Noah before rushing in here. Ever since Noah took her to formal to please her father, they’ve been talking more. It’s not threatening, just interesting. They formed a friendship that night, and I can’t blame him for wanting to be around her. I just don’t like the way he looks at her. It’s not like how Ian or Dylan look at girls, but it’s similar.
Noah’s a good guy, though. He actually went along with my crazy plan for the formal. Noah picked Opal up from her house to appease her dad. Then drove her to the dance so she and I could be together.
I still owe him for doing me that solid.
“Yeah,” I finally blurt. “Well, tell them I say hello. I’ll see you tonight.”
Standing up, I peck her on the cheek. Her face turns even more red as she waves at the guys, turning to leave the library.
When I sit back down, both guys are staring at me.
“What?” I grumble, grabbing my pen and jotting down random notes in my notebook. They don’t make sense, but it’s busy work until the period ends.
Ian chuckles. “You’ve got it bad, bro.”
Don’t I know it.
***
It’s nearly ten o’clock when I make my way up the tree toward Opal’s open window. I had to make sure that all of the lights were off before climbing up, since.
Like she promised, Opal is waiting for me on her bed, cross-legged with a small smile on her face. As soon as I’m in, I quietly latch the lock on the window and plop down on her bed.
We stare at each other, something different in the way our gazes lock. Her lashes flutter as she nibbles her bottom lip, and I want so badly to pull at it with my own teeth. She makes the softest noises when I do, and it drives me crazy.
I clear my throat. “About Dylan earlier …”
She gulps. “Y-yeah?”
“I’m sorry if he made you uncomfortable. He’s an asshole, but you already know that. I know we’re not ready for that type of thing.”
Truth be told, I have no clue if we’re ready or not. Part of me believes we are, but Opal is so shy I never know what she wants. It’s easier to think we should hold off than rush into anything, even if we have been dating for a couple years now.
“Oh.” She slowly nods, brushing hair behind her ear. “Yeah, you’re right.”
We sit in silence for a moment.
“Did Ben like the name for the band?”
A smile spreads across my face. “He was cool with it. We’re going to make posters to hang around town next week, try getting a few more gigs. Marty told us tonight we could play there more over the summer since our curfew would be extended.”
“That’s awesome, Bash.”
My palm twitches toward the ring in my pocket, and my heart races a little in my chest just thinking about it. Would she like it? Would it freak her out?
She sees my hesitancy and brushes her hand against mine. “Are you okay? What’s the matter?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. I, uh, got something for you. It’s not a big deal. I mean it is, but not … well—” I wince at the way the words jumble together.
Blowing out a breath, I try again. “I got you a present that I hope you like, because it does mean something, but I don’t want it to freak you out.”
Sheepishly, I pull the box out of my pocket, passing it her.
“What’s this?” Opal whispers at the wrapped gift in my palm, brushing her fingers against it.
“A promise to you,” I answer, leaning my forehead against hers.
She stares at the box.
“I love you, Opal,” I tell her.
It’s the first time I’ve said those three words to her with so much meaning packed behind them. We used to say them when we were friends without a care in the world, but things changed when we started dating. I think it scared us both to mutter those significant words, to cross that line. So, we let them be forgotten.
Until now.
Until this moment.
She takes the box and unwraps the silver paper with shaky hands, looking at the ring in the holder of the black velvet interior.
Her eyes widen as they snap to mine. “Bash?”
“It’s a promise ring,” I whisper. “Until I can get you the real deal someday. I want you to know how much you mean to me … how much you’ll always mean to me.”
She draws in a breath as she takes it out of the box. “It’s—” Her voice cracks. “It’s so beautiful, Bash. I hope it didn’t cost you much.”
Does she not want it? Does she want me to return it?
Panic settles into my body, and I try thinking of a way out of this before it becomes too weird.
But I don’t have to worry for long, because she leans forward and brushes our lips together briefly, and then slips the ring onto her finger.
“I love you, too,” she tells me, eyes glazed with a thin layer of tears. She glances down at the ring with a huge smile on her face.
She slides into my side, and I tuck my arm around her, pulling her so she’s half draped on my lap. I lean back against her pillows, so her head is resting on my chest, and one of her legs is tangled in mine.
“Thank you for the ring,” she tells me after a long moment of just our heartbeats echoing throughout the room.
“I’m glad you love it.”
I remember the i
Pod in my pocket and pull it out, passing her one of the earbuds like usual. She slides it in her ear before I start playing the new additions to our playlist.
We fall asleep to Aerosmith’s “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing”.
***
The soft pitter-patter of raindrops against the tin roof reminds me of where I am, and I stir awake, realizing that I fell asleep. Turning to see that it’s after three in the morning, I bolt up, quietly cussing.
Opal makes a soft noise next to me, causing me to look at her sleeping form. She’s nestled into a pile of pillows, her pink comforter tucked around her body.
Leaning forward, I kiss her cheek.
“Mmm. Bash?”
“Hey,” I whisper. “I fell asleep. Need to go.”
She blinks her tired eyes, reaching out to grab my hand. “Don’t. Stay.”
A small smile plays on my lips. “Mom will notice if I’m gone when she checks before leaving for work.”
She sits up, noticing the time.
Frowning, she says, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I thought maybe …” Even in the dark, I see her cheeks tint.
Playfully, I ask, “What did you think?”
She nibbles her bottom lip. “Kennedy, um, gave me something a couple days ago. And I, uh, thought maybe … we could … use it. Well, I don’t know if you want to, but …”
My brows shoot up. What the hell did Kennedy give her? Based on the way I strain against the zipper of my jeans, I have a decent idea.
“Opal …”
Before I finish my sentence, she pulls something out of her bookbag. Sure enough, the foil wrapper in her hand gleams from the reflection of the streetlight coming in her window.
I swallow. “You want to?”
She stares at the condom. “Do you? I know you said you’re not sure we’re ready yet when Dylan gave you one.”
Am I ready? Hell yeah.
“I wasn’t sure if you were ready, so I didn’t want to pressure you. I mean, it should be special,” I answer carefully, eyes locked on the packet in her fingers.
The Choices We Make Page 17
