by Rachel Kiss
“Well, my girlfriend died,” Blake says.
She grins weakly at my expression. “Sorry. I was just trying to put it in perspective for you—make you feel better.”
“Um … thanks?”
Again, her grin is weak. “I can buy you an ice cream cone if that would work better.”
I swallow, feeling lame. “I guess why I’m here—actually, I’m supposed to help you feel better.” I give her a tiny peek. “Would me buying you an ice cream make you feel better?”
Her lip quirks. “You can do something else to make me feel better.”
My heart thumps, but I glance at her quizzically. “What can I do to make you feel better?”
She raises her eyebrows, like I should know.
Heat swamps my cheeks and my pulse thumps. I clear my throat. “Are you hitting on me?”
“Yes.”
“By talking about your dead girlfriend?”
“Look, let’s make a deal, okay? You can talk about your ex-boyfriend if I can talk about my dead girlfriend. Two dating no-no’s. You probably can’t get a better offer than that. Well, not here. Tonight. At this table.”
I bite my lip. She wants to talk about Julia—really bad, obviously. But I can’t take it. I mean, Julia was mean to me once she got together with Blake—an actual bully, actually. Plus, I had shame about my lie, that I had let it get around that Blake and I had did … things. I can’t talk about this stuff with her. I just want to leave. Run away. So bad.
But instead, I once again try to remind myself it’s her birthday and she’s hurting. Try to focus on her, and her pain—instead of mine and my discomfort. Still though, I can’t bring myself to ask about Julia, or voluntarily invite her to do it—talk about Julia, I mean. Since she loved her. A lot. Obviously. Just knowing that hurts me in a way I can’t explain, or even understand.
So, instead I change the subject. “I heard you saw me in the school’s play.”
She nods. “I went to every showing of it.”
She adds softly, “It was romantic.”
Little sparks shoot through me.
… but then I remember: I’d worn a long, blond wig in the play—and Griffin and Mason had said the reason Blake kept seeing the play over and over was because my character reminded her of Julia.
Remembering that, sharp pain slices through my heart.
Blake had dated Julia a long time, because of that I had envied Julia and wanted to be her. But now it seems Blake wants me to be her. I wilt against the seat, a hole opening up inside me. Oh, the pain!
“Look, I’m not Julia,” I blurt out.
Blake blinks, sort of like I’ve lost my mind. But then she recovers quickly and smiles this tiny grin, though she tries to hide it.
I ignore the grin, since I don’t get it. Instead I inform her, “I don’t even look like her.”
Blake nods, still grinning slightly, and still trying to hide it. “You looked like her in the play, though.”
“Yeah, but I’m not really the girl in the play.”
Blake looks up at the ceiling a moment, still smiling faintly. Finally, she looks back at me. “Look, I know that, okay? I know you’re not the girl from the play. I know everyone thinks I went off the deep end. But I’m still lucid enough to know you aren’t the character from the play. I got that. I do. But you were a good actress—can’t you just keep acting like that?”
I gape at her, having no words.
She cracks the tiniest smile. “I’m messing with you, Renee. Be yourself.” She says softly, “I like yourself.”
Fireworks shoot through me.
My yearning heart pricks with longing, but I have to remind myself (though it’s hard and painful)—no matter what she says, she’s really longing for Julia.
After a moment of us just silently looking at each other, Blake rubs the back of her neck, giving me a curious look. “Apparently the guys paid for a hotel room for me upstairs. You want to come up there with me?”
I tilt my head. “They bought you a room?”
She nods. “They thought I might want to invite someone special up there. I’m inviting you.”
My heart jumps to my throat. Too breathless to respond, I just stare at her, gaping. Finally I manage to croak out, “Blake, you haven’t talked to me, or even looked at me—in over a year.”
Slowly she shakes her head. “I looked at you. A lot.” She peeks into my eyes. “I just never did it while you were looking.”
Her voice is husky, “Look, can we just go up to the room and talk?—that’s all we need to do up there. I swear. I just want to talk to you.”
She takes my hand gently, but then she swallows and inhales my wrist—deeply. “I miss that smell,” she says. She peeks up at me. “You smell like her.”
Pain slices through me.
She tilts her head, then winces from my wince, realizing she’s said the wrong thing and blown it.
I jump up from my seat. “No. We can’t go to your private room and ‘talk.’ Get someone else to be your fake Julia. I have enough troubles without getting tangled up in that kind of masochism—which a girl would have to be to get messed up with you right now.”
Blake lowers her brow in frustration. She groans, “Renee, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”
I storm away, ignoring her words.
Because how else could she have meant it? She wants me to be her substitute Julia. Hey, why not? After all, I have the wig—and wow! I even smell like her. How perfect!
(Not.)
CHAPTER 18
***BLAKE***
**BLAKE**
I wasn’t a saint when I left for that semester in Connecticut, I admit that. I’d stalk the internet for Renee—after all, I had that crazy thing for her, and then everyone was saying she was spreading tales about us getting steamy together. So that didn’t help ease up my craving her. Far from it.
But she had her boyfriend still, and I was in Connecticut, and then suddenly, there was Julia—in Connecticut. She was trying to woo me back, telling me she had been confused about me in middle school, and all through high school too, but she wasn’t confused anymore—she wanted me. Only me.
I warned her I was kind of hooked on someone else, but it seemed kind of hopeless, and I did start letting Julia keep me company, if you know what I mean. After all, I was lonely. It was kind of a warped situation. She had gorgeous, long auburn hair, just like Renee’s. That’s what made me let her stay … and what had me letting her keep coming around a lot longer than I let any other girl. It was that she reminded me of Renee—my obsession. (I told you I was stalking her on the internet, right?)
Then things got more warped once Julia dragged me shopping with her at the mall one day. However, when I went with her, I swear my intent was not what ended up happening. (I swear.)
It went like this:
Julia is at the make-up counter trying on samples of eye shadows—asking my opinion, which I can’t really give, since I don’t have one. While she’s busy with the sales lady, I spray Julia with this expensive perfume Renee always wears. Then I go crazy sniffing her. In fact, I enjoy the sniffing so much, I buy a bottle of the stuff for her.
Julia giggles with delighted surprise. “You must really like it on me.”
I do. But I liked it on someone else better. Only I can’t be with that someone at the moment. But I plan to pretend—pretend I’m with her. I’ll hold Julia tight while she smells like Renee. I’ll breathe her in … and pretend.
It’s messed up, but I have every intention of doing it.
“Let’s buy you a skirt,” I tell her, thinking about the one I’d seen at the front of the store—the one exactly like the one Renee owns and drives me crazy in.
This is so demented. I know that. Yet I lead her to the skirt … and I buy it.
“Now shoes,” I tell her.
She’s going to be my fake Renee.
CHAPTER 19
***BLAKE***
Even though I plunged into my fake Renee
, I still stalked the real one via social media sites, because I still had my plan firmly in place. After my internship, I’d go back to the university and see Renee again—find out about her secret fantasies, make them come true. After all, her boyfriend was a wad—and she had spread the steamy lies about me. Her, Renee. I figured that meant something … right? Saying I did sexy stuff to her. She chose me to spread the lies about. Me. I wasn’t sure what it all meant, but I’d find out.
So yes, I fully admit I stalked her—long distance. Through social media sites.
Then there was a long break of time where Renee hardly posted a thing. It sort of seemed she broke up with the wad she’d been seeing for so long. I was getting that feeling. After a while, I became pretty sure of it. Her posts were … different. Didn’t include the guy—though she didn’t come out and say they were broken-up. Then again, she hardly posted at all anymore. It was driving me nuts. I missed her posts—getting to see her (even if it was mostly with a guy)—and getting to hear about her life. At least it was … something. Knowing that she was still out there. That I still had a chance.
Then Renee cut ties with all social networks altogether—and with me—because she wrote, “I know I’m being stalked. Stop stalking me. I’m in a happy relationship. The happiest I’ve ever been—with a boy I truly love dearly. With all my heart. I’ve never loved anyone like I love him … and I don’t want my relationship with him stalked. So, I’m no longer posting a single thing about us on the Internet. Goodbye Stalker.”
My heart felt like it had been ripped out.
CHAPTER 20
***BLAKE***
I may have laid my love for Julia on a little thick after I came back to school. Just subconsciously wanted Renee to see what she was missing. What she could have had—me. In love.
In a way, Renee kept me with Julia. It ended up being a tragic thing. But Renee didn’t know that, and I’d kept warning Julia. Over and over. But somehow me telling her I was into someone else made her want me more. I told you, the girl was messed up. But she was beautiful, and she knew how to keep me with her—even when I didn’t want to be with her.
The whole situation was messed up.
Then she died.
… and I realized I’d let her into my heart once again, way more than I’d realized. Way more than I ever expected. I discovered I’d loved Julia. It kind of devastated me.
CHAPTER 21
***BLAKE***
I was devastated about Julia dying. No doubt about it.
… but that didn’t mean my feelings for Renee died. They were as insane as ever. I just tried to bury them because I was under the impression she had some guy she was in love with.
That’s what I’d thought. What I’d been led to believe.
But after seeing her in the play, I looked around, wondering where this guy was—the one that she was so hung up on.
I’d always noticed her at school when I came back. Of course. Watched her achingly from afar. But from very, very far since she had crushed my crazy us-getting-together dreams by loving yet another guy once she broke up with wad-boy. But after the play, I figured out a mind-blowing discovery: she basically lied about the other guy. I sort of got why she did. Renee was wary of her beautiful looks, I’d noticed that. They kind of made guys crazy and made her wary of guys and their attention. And now she didn’t have a wad boyfriend to look out for her. Or a mom. Or anyone.
She’d lied to keep guys away.
Well, after the play—seeing her up there on the stage again, singing so beautiful—I couldn’t stay away from her. (And I wasn’t a “guy”—I could see how that actually worked in my favor.) But no, I couldn’t stay away from her.
… It’s just I didn’t know how to get close to her.
I was out of the game.
I was kind of—no, completely—messed up.
Clearly.
But then she read that poem—her lip quivering. Talking about angels and heaven.
No more waiting.
My angel was at the front of the class.
And I was going to take a trip to heaven.
Even if it meant spooking a wild colt.
CHAPTER 22
***Renee***
Renee
A few days after Blake’s birthday party, where I was supposed to be Substitute Julia (but bailed) (still not sure if that was good or bad—but it was all my heart could survive). But as I’m still thinking about it—Blake and I together in that booth, her eyes on me so longing, me trying to get a grip, reminding myself she was aching and yearning: but it was for another girl; me squirming in my seat, aching too, knowing her hungry eyes wanted me to be someone else … and I was getting paid to let her fantasize I was that someone else. Remembering I had cleared my throat, wanting to cheer her up for her birthday, even if I couldn’t do what she longed for me to do, be a different girl. I had looked into her longing, thirsty eyes and tried to give her clarity, a connection between us—me and her, people that were left on this earth. People that could be together. If she wanted. I whispered, “The person I loved died in a car crash, and the person you loved died in one too.”
She had nodded, looking agonized—yet so sympathetic.
The memory of that …
All of it.
It stays with me.
Haunts me.
My moment alone with Blake—me failing my job of cheering her up for her birthday—me running away.
I ran away. Bailed on everyone’s hopes.
Because I couldn’t do it—endure her wanting me to be someone else. Because it seems all I want is her. And seeing her look at me that way—but knowing it was for another girl …
No. I couldn’t endure it.
I’m thinking about all that stuff now—in chemistry class. Then I look up because there is a new student in our class—a transfer student. That is, the student transferred from 9 a.m. chemistry to 11 a.m. chemistry—which is the class I’m in.
I stare at the student and melt.
Because the student is Blake.
As she stands at the front of the class, she winks at me.
Sparks shoot through my body.
My pulse explodes and my entire insides ignite
I quickly look away from her, my heart pounding so hard.
No! I can’t—this can’t. I’m not going to be able to survive this—having a class with her. I’ll drop things and my heart will leap on her—kiss her and attack her. Painful, embarrassing stuff like that.
Luckily, our teacher seats Blake in the back of the class, so at least I won’t stare (and drool) at her all hour. At least there’s that.
At the end of the period our teacher reminds the class we have a huge test tomorrow. I groan. Loudly. (Chemistry is not my best subject—by a long shot.)
There’s this big study group I’d like to be a part of—I could definitely use the help. But Evil Carly always has the group meet at her apartment, and she’s made it more than clear I’m not welcome—in fact she came right out and said it. (I guess her ex-boyfriend had a not-so-secret crush on me.)
So, it’s quite shocking when she and her friend come up to me as I’m at the drinking fountain: “Renee do you want to come to our study group tonight?”
My jaw drops. Literally.
I blink and tilt my head. “Really?”
I squint at her. “I thought you said I could only come to your study group if ‘hell froze over.’”
“It did,” her friend, Olivia, laughs teasingly. “The guy-ish girl Carly is secretly craving and crushing on said she won’t come to the session unless we let you come.”
My breath hitches. “Who’s the girl?”
“I don’t have a crush on her,” Carly says.
But she declares it at the exact same moment Olivia smiles mischievously and answers, “Brooding Blake.”
My stomach drops and my heart gets all spazzy.
But I try to get a grip and remind myself—the girl wants me to be someone else.
Bes
ides, Carly is a witch. I in no way want to help her out.
Through gritted teeth I tell her, “Can’t. I’m busy.” (Doing my nails.)
“Oh come on, please come,” Olivia coaxes. “Blake said she won’t come unless you’re there. You’re our Blake-bait.”
My stomach drops again and all kinds of strange things happen to my insides. Again with the Blake-bait. What is going on?? When did I become this? And how did I become it? Truly, What the—??
Olivia goes on with her desperate-ish coaxing, “Blake’s a brainiac. We actually need her—you do too. She’s our only hope to pass the test. Please come, Renee. Pleeeease.”
Ugh! I really do need the help.
I draw out a breath. “Okay, fine. I’ll come.”
CHAPTER 23
***Renee***
In the end I don’t go to Carly’s. I chicken out. I don’t want to see Blake. I mean, I feel these strange, desperate longings and yearnings for her. And if I were to be totally honest, I’d say I could actually fall in love with her! That’s brutal, since she’s in love with someone else … and wants to fantasize I’m her—Julia—a dead girl.
So, yeah. No thanks.
No way can I handle a night with her and Carly. No way. Talk about torture! I’d rather poke out my eyeballs.
Seriously, I can’t do it. I can’t deal with the fact Blake wants me to be someone else. Or bear knowing that when she looks all starry-eyed at me like she did at the party, that she’s really fantasizing that I’m Julia.
That’s way more pain than I can endure.
