When Sparks Fly

by Helena Hunting

  Mark frowns. “Why are you trying to make it sound like some selfless act on your part?”

  Jerome sighs. “If you have feelings for her and she has feelings for you, just own it, but don’t stand here and pretend you’re doing this just because she couldn’t do it herself.”

  “Obviously I care about her. She’s my best friend.”

  “We all care about her, man,” Mark says. “But the last thing either of you needs is a broken heart to go along with all the other broken parts.”

  20

  THE FREAKING TURTLES

  AVERY

  My brain is full of fog. I glance to the right and am surprised to find Declan’s large body in my bed. The sheets are shoved down to his waist, bare chest rising and falling slowly.

  I’d like to be able to appreciate the incredible view, but Declan never sleeps in my bed, so instead, all it does is incite panic and some questions. I catalogue the aches in my body. There’s no unusual pain, so I don’t think he’s in my bed as a result of me hurting myself.

  I try to remember what happened last night, but it’s a haze. I had one beer and a lot of snacks. Peanut butter brownies that had a bit of an odd taste to them. And then a whole lot of orange juice, which isn’t usually something I drink much of. That’s typically Declan’s go-to drink of choice.

  My phone buzzes from my nightstand and I glance at the clock. It’s late, closing in on eleven, and I don’t often sleep past eight. I shimmy over a few inches and nab my phone, fumble it and nearly drop it on the floor. I manage to catch it with two fingers and fling it up onto my comforter-covered stomach.

  My reaction time sucks this morning.

  I close my eyes for a few seconds, finding it hard to keep them open. I must fall asleep again because I’m startled by the buzz on my pelvis. This time I manage to bring my phone to my face. I have an alarming number of missed calls and messages from my sisters. “What the hell?” I mutter, glancing over at Declan’s relaxed, still passed-out form.

  I bring up the group chat and scroll back to the beginning, skimming the conversation in reverse. There seems to be some kind of video that’s caused a heck of a lot of drama, but I have no idea what my sisters are talking about.

  I skip the messages and call Harley. I’m aware I’ll likely get both of them on the line, but London seems to be the most upset, so I’d rather deal with Harley first if I can.

  She answers halfway through the first ring. “We have big problems, Avery.”

  The fog that’s been hanging around in my brain is quick to lift at her less-than-pleasant tone. “I gathered from the messages. Can you fill me in, though? Because last night is unclear.”

  “What the hell did you do last night that would make it unclear when you’re recovering from broken freaking limbs?” She’s loud and angry, which is not good. Harley rarely raises her voice.

  I filter back through last night, and remember, just vaguely, when Jerome asked where the Tupperware had gone and how I’d polished off the entire container, despite the brownies tasting a little odd. “The guys came over to watch football. I had a beer because I’m not taking the painkillers anymore. Jerome brought some brownies of the special variety. I didn’t know and ended up eating all of them.”

  “The special variety?”

  “They were pot brownies. I was unaware and polished them all off, which I don’t recommend doing, ever.”

  “Didn’t they taste … weedy?”

  “I thought they might have some zucchini in them or something.”

  “Well, pot brownies might explain your video rant.” Harley doesn’t sound amused.

  “What video rant?” I rub my temples, still in the dark about the actual issue.

  “You posted a video rant. Can you let us in, please, so we can have this conversation face-to-face? The latch is on and we’ve been standing outside your door for the last twenty minutes trying to get you to answer the door or your freaking phone.”

  “Oh crap, you’re here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is London with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, give me a minute and I’ll let you in.” I end the call and leave a still sleeping Declan—I have no idea how he passes out so hard—in my bed while I hobble uncoordinatedly down the hall.

  Neither of them looks impressed when I throw open the door. London doesn’t say a word as she sashays past me, heels clipping on the hardwood.

  Harley sighs and shakes her head as she looks me over. “I hope last night was worth it.”

  I follow her back down the hall and catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. My hair is an insane wreck, still halfway up in a ponytail. My eyes are red-rimmed, there are pillow lines on my face, and I’m still wearing my sleep tank from last night. I’m also suddenly aware that it only covers my butt by a couple of inches, and I’m not wearing a bra or underwear.

  The living room is a mess. The coffee table is littered with remnants of last night’s snacks, empty chip bags, a bowl with chocolate wrappers, and an empty pizza box. There are crushed pieces of popcorn littering the floor around the couch where I normally sit. The kitchen counter is home to several empty beer bottles, a half-gallon jug of orange juice, which I’m guessing I polished off, and several dirty pint glasses.

  London wrinkles her nose at the mess and props her fist on her hip. “What were you thinking when you posted that video?”

  “I think you need to back this up a little because I still don’t know what video you’re talking about.”

  Harley’s nostrils flare and London holds up a hand. “Last night you uploaded a video to the Spark House account where you ranted about bendy straws and turtles, among other things.”

  “That doesn’t even make sense.” I wrack my brain, trying to come up with a reason as to why turtles and bendy straws would even come up in conversation.

  “Regardless of whether it makes sense or not, the company that was entertaining working with us backed out of the deal!” London says.

  “Wait, what?” It takes me a few seconds to piece it together. Especially with my brain fog going on. And then I realize London is referring to Go Green, the company that she was trying to create a sponsorship connection with.

  “Go Green backed out. They’re not going to sponsor us anymore,” Harley says quietly.

  “I don’t understand why they would back out over a rant about bendy straws and turtles?”

  “Because you said anyone against bendy straws was a devil worshipper. Then you went on to say being able to use a bendy straw was more important than saving turtles from the environmental damage that they cause, which also happens to be one of the key freaking initiatives that Go Green has backed for the past several years,” London states matter-of-factly. “The CEO spearheaded the entire campaign surrounding restaurants shifting to paper straws in order to prevent the unnecessary and inhumane death of the turtles.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s not good.”

  “No, it really isn’t. We needed that sponsorship after I lost the alumni contract, and now we’re back to square one.” London rubs her temples.

  I sort of want to do the same thing, considering the way this is making my head pound.

  “What’s going on out here?” Declan appears at the end of the hall, wearing nothing but a pair of gray track pants. His hair is a mess, but instead of looking like something the cat dragged in, he’s ridiculously delicious. He runs a hand through his hair, making his biceps pop.

  London doesn’t even look his way. “It’s Spark House business; it doesn’t involve you.”

  He crosses his arms. “Actually, since you’re out here getting heated with Avery, in what happens to be our home, I think it does involve me.”

  “You know what, on second thought, you might be right, because from what I understand, it was you and your friends who videoed her slamming environmentally responsible practices and allowed her to post it on our social media for all of our clients to see!” London’s eyes flash
with ire.

  Declan’s brow furrows. “What are you talking about? I would never have let Avery post a video like that.”

  “Well, someone must have, because it was up on the Spark House account for hours before we realized what was going on and pulled it down.”

  “Avery was a mess. I didn’t think she’d actually post it.”

  “Why would you even take a video like that in the first place?” London asks.

  “Honestly, it was an accident. Avery kept saying she had important things to say, and I thought I wasn’t recording but I guess I was. She must have sent it to herself without me realizing it? I didn’t think she would even be able to manage that considering the state she was in, so I can’t imagine that she would have posted it intentionally.” Declan gives me a worried look.

  London squeezes the bridge of her nose. “Intentional or not, this cost us a massive sponsor and some amazing opportunities which, frankly, we could have used right now!”

  “Maybe I can talk to the sponsor and explain what happened,” I offer.

  “What are you going to say? That you accidentally ate a whole bunch of weed brownies, and your boy toy videoed you ranting about how inconvenient it is that you can’t use bendy straws when you’re high? You are the one who has been pushing for expansion, Avery, and without a sponsor, that can’t happen. We’re barely keeping our heads above water as it is.”

  “We can’t be in that bad of shape.” At least I didn’t think we were.

  London looks at Harley and sighs. “We’ve had to turn down a couple of events because we couldn’t make it work without you. And two prospective clients hinged on having the sponsorship funding with Go Green. Without that, it changes a lot of things. And before you say it, Declan, I told you taking out a loan is frivolous and not smart for our bottom line.”

  “Wait. Why is this the first I’m hearing about this? About any of this?”

  Declan rubs the back of his neck. “I wanted to tell you, but London felt it wasn’t a good idea.”

  London throws her hands in the air. “I wanted to be able to fix it! I wanted to prove that I could handle it on my own.”

  Declan raises a hand. “I know and I get it, but leaving her in the dark isn’t exactly helpful either.”

  “I’d hoped we’d be able to get them to reconsider.” London clasps her hands together, probably to keep from fidgeting since she doesn’t have those star strips she usually keeps handy. “And I didn’t want to put more pressure on you when you were already dealing with enough.”

  “You would have wanted to return to work if you’d known, and you would have set yourself back. You can try to deny it all you want, but we all know what you’re like.” Harley takes me by the arm and leads me to the couch. “You need to sit down; you’re pale and the last thing we need is you passing out.”

  I sit, embarrassed and frustrated with this whole thing. I can see all sides, and I’ve made it worse because I got messed up last night and did something stupid. “My rant must have been pretty bad,” I mutter.

  Harley rubs my back, but doesn’t answer my question, which I suppose is answer enough. “Declan, I appreciate that this is your place just as much as it’s Avery’s, but I think we could use a few minutes alone to sort out how we’re going to move forward.”

  Declan defers to me. “Are you going to be okay?”

  I nod.

  “I’ll be in my room, but if I hear raised voices again, I’m coming back out here.” Declan turns around and walks down the hall, kneading his neck.

  I flop back against the cushions. My mouth feels like it’s full of cotton, and so does my head. “I should probably see this video so I can understand how bad things are.”

  I get about thirty seconds in before I turn it off. “How many people saw this before it came down?”

  “Not that many,” Harley says, looking away.

  “At least a few hundred from what I saw before I could pull it from social media. But there were screenshots, and I think you may be a meme…”

  I rub my hand over my face. There isn’t going to be an easy fix for this. “I should reach out and explain the situation.” Although I’m not sure how much good it will do since I was high out of my gourd. I could blame it on pain medication.

  “I’ve already called. They are no longer interested in working with us, and I’m not sure what it would take to make them change their minds, so I think we need to move on. In the meantime, I’m looking into some not-for-profit environmental groups we can sponsor or feature to help us do damage control.” London reaches into her purse and pulls out one of her star strips. She doesn’t even have to look at it, just starts folding. There are bags under her eyes and despite being put together, she seems slightly disheveled. I hate seeing them this stressed out, all because of me.

  “I can’t pretend to know how difficult this whole thing must be for you, Avery,” London says gently. “I can imagine it must be a challenge to be reliant on another person so fully, and you have to be struggling with how little physical activity you’ve been getting, but getting stoned out of your mind on pot brownies isn’t a good alternative based on the end result.”

  I feel awful that this has happened. “You’re right, you have no idea what this is like for me, but the whole thing was an accident, from the pot brownies to the video.”

  “Why were the pot brownies even there? You’re healing from multiple breaks. And why in the world did Declan agree to video you when you were in that state? He should have said no.”

  “He did say no, but I kept nagging him.” I have very vague memories of telling him I had important things to say that I wouldn’t remember tomorrow. “And like I said, I had no idea they were weed brownies, otherwise I wouldn’t have eaten four of them and made an ass out of myself. It was a mistake, and I’m sorry, but you need to stop blaming everything on Declan. Declan is not the root of the problem. You’re mad at me, but it’s easier to be mad at him.”

  London blinks, taken aback, and remains silent for a few seconds before she finally says, “You know what, you’re right. I am angry with you. We’re all busting our asses, trying to make things work, and you’re over here eating freaking pot brownies and undoing all of our hard work! Everyone is pandering to you and what you need, myself included, and that’s obviously a mistake. Spark House is your baby. We’re over here trying to keep it afloat, and for what? Where’s the fucking gratitude, Avery?”

  It’s my turn to be shocked. For a moment my back is up, at least until I let her words sink in. And I realize she’s right. I may be doing little things here and there, but they’re a two-woman show at Spark House. It’s hard enough when it’s the three of us. “I’m so sorry, London. You’re absolutely right. I’ve been focused on me and only me. That needs to change. Let me try to fix it. Please.”

  Her shoulders come down from her ears, and I hold out my arm. She comes in for a hug, and it’s in that moment that I understand how hard all of this has been on her, and how much we all rely on one another.

  * * *

  London and Harley have to leave for Spark House because, like every other Saturday, there’s an event this weekend. I stare at the ceiling, trying to figure out what exactly I’m going to do about this situation.

  It’s less than ideal. London is right to be upset with me. And now I’m seeing that she’s been doing all of this, not because she loves Spark House the way I do, but because she feels like she has to. And that’s not how I want it to be.

  The cushion beside mine dips and Declan’s knee bumps against mine. “I’m really sorry, Ave. I didn’t mean to mess things up for you.”

  If I could reach out and take his hand, I would, but he’s sitting on the casted arm side, so I shimmy over and rest my head against his bicep and my casted arm on his thigh. He’s still wearing jogging pants, but he’s put a shirt on. “We’ll get it sorted out.” I don’t know if it’s a lie or not, but I don’t want to shove more guilt down his throat when it’s not his fault I
acted like an idiot and did something stupid.

  His lips find my temple. “Is there anything I can do to fix it?”

  “Honestly? I don’t know. London needs some time to calm down before I can really get any information out of her. She’s been working on hooking us up with a sponsor for a while, and this one seemed really invested, so it’s understandable she’s disappointed. I don’t even remember the video, let alone posting it, but obviously I did.”

  “I honestly thought I wasn’t recording. I should have deleted it right away instead of letting you even look at it.”

  “You couldn’t have known I would post it. It’s my fault for pushing you to take it in the first place. I know how hard it is for you to say no to me right now.” And I realize that no one wants to say no to me, which is its own problem. One I’m in a position to fix.

  “You said you wanted to let loose and I didn’t want to ruin it.” He stretches his arm across the back of the couch, and his hand curves around my shoulder. “Do your sisters know what’s going on between us?”

  I need to tread carefully here, because this situation is already messy and I’ve got more than enough on my plate without sending Declan into a state of panic. “Harley sort of guessed that something happened. I just told her we were being casual about it.”

  “Right. Okay, yeah.” He’s quiet for a few seconds and my stomach drops. “This probably isn’t the best time, but I need to tell you something.”

  I pull myself up so I can see his face. He looks worried, and maybe a little freaked-out. A freaked-out Declan isn’t a good thing. “Did something happen?”

  Like did he decide he wants to hook up with that Becky chick since giving each other handies and blowies isn’t cutting it for him anymore? Or maybe he’s not that into it and thinks we should stop messing around.