The Possibility of Somewhere

by Julia Day

  “Why?”

  “You’re not his type.”

  Irritation sparkled in her eyes. She wrapped her hands behind his neck and pulled him toward her.

  “Whoa. Careful,” he said, smiling as his fingers splayed against her lace-covered back.

  “He’s not my type either,” she murmured and laid her head on his shoulder.

  Right on cue, the music swelled and slowed. The lights dimmed. Couples merged into one.

  Except for me. Oh, yes. Having relinquished my dance partner, I now found myself alone in the center of the dance floor.

  Did I mention alone?

  A voice spoke behind me. “Eden.”

  I glanced over my shoulder. Ash stood there, looking completely hot in a black dress shirt and black pants. Instead of smiling, he brooded at me, which was completely hot too. “Are you here to save me?”

  He didn’t answer—just held open his arms. I stepped into them and allowed myself to be pressed to his chest. The fabric of his shirt felt silky beneath my cheek.

  For the moment, I would go with this. Out here, with a wistful song and other swaying couples, there was no room for the emotions that should have had me pushing him away.

  I couldn’t gauge what kind of dancer he was. After all, how much skill does it take to hug someone and shuffle back and forth? But it was nice. My first slow dance, and it was with Ash Gupta.

  The music ended, but he didn’t pull away and neither did I.

  “Ash?” Upala asked.

  We both looked to the side. She and Dev were standing next to us, staring pointedly at Ash. The three of them exchanged glances for several seconds. He shook his head at them, looked down, and settled me more firmly in his arms. Another love song started.

  Dev and Upala moved together stiffly, hovering nearby, their faces wary.

  I was content where I was, leaning into Ash, feet barely moving. His hands lowered from my waist to my hips.

  What was happening? This was me and Ash.

  I raised my gaze to his. He stared down at me, his expression fierce and hungry. Shivering, I broke away, hungry too for something I couldn’t name.

  The music faded. A microphone squawked and the DJ said, “We’re taking a break. Back in ten.”

  I gave Ash a hesitant smile, because he was looking at me in a way I’d never been looked at before and I didn’t know what to do with it. Shouldn’t I just leave? I glanced around for Mundy. It was her turn to rescue me.

  “Ready?” Dev prompted Ash, gesturing toward the bleachers and their group.

  Ash and I followed his two friends from the dance floor. But when we reached the side, his hand remained glued to my waist, holding me next to him.

  “Be right there,” he said to the other couple, his voice firm.

  They frowned at him and then rejoined the rest of the entourage.

  I looked up at him, puzzled by everything that had happened in the past few minutes. Why hadn’t he bolted yet? Why hadn’t I? “Your friends hate this, don’t they?”

  “They think—” His lips clamped shut.

  Reality twisted in my gut. I knew what they thought. “They think you’re a hero for reaching into the gutter and pulling me out, but that you’re overdoing it.”

  “Yeah.”

  His agreement stung, but dishonesty would’ve stung more. “Sorry, but tonight you have to share the rescuer honors with Sawyer.”

  “Eden. That’s not the reason I did it.”

  “Okay, why?”

  “I wanted to dance with you.”

  A sweet thrill ignited inside me, only to flame out at the look of utter torment on his face. He hated whatever it was he wanted from me. That hurt. “How convenient that I gave you an excuse to hide behind.”

  His head snapped back. “Crap.”

  “Ooh, crap. Now there’s an edgy word.”

  “Why do you say things like that?”

  “I think things like this all the time. Be glad you got to hear it.”

  “Right. Thanks.” Jamming his fists into his pockets, he turned away.

  “Ash?”

  He paused, shoulders stiff.

  There was something going on and if I let him leave, I would lose the chance to learn what it was. “Why did you want to dance with me?”

  He shook his head, once, twice, as if he were arguing with himself. “During the whole time I’ve known you, you’ve never let anyone get near you, but that’s changed recently. You’ve allowed me to see more, and I thought…” He took a sudden step into my personal space, tension crackling off him in waves. “You look incredibly beautiful tonight, and you seem open, like maybe you wouldn’t mind being touched. I want to be the guy you let in,” he said in a rush, as if the admission pissed him off. His gaze drifted to the halter of my dress before sliding up to focus on my mouth.

  What did that mean? Did he wonder what it would be like to kiss me?

  I looked at his mouth and wondered the same thing myself. If we were somewhere private, would I want to kiss Ash?

  Wait, dammit. What was wrong with me? He ignored my existence most of the time. He might ruin my best shot at Carolina. What kind of idiot was I to put kiss and Ash in the same sentence?

  I had to leave before I didn’t recognize myself anymore. “I need to find Mundy.”

  “Will you go out with me?”

  I froze.

  Okay. Rewind that. What? “Did you just ask me for a date?”

  “Yes.” He stood there unsmiling, his jaw so tense that it looked like it might crack.

  I gaped at him, shocked and amazed and terrified. This was a guy who’d only dated two girls to my knowledge, both from his “ethnic clique.” His circle of friends kept to themselves at school and hung out with no one else when they weren’t. How did he go from being that exclusive to dancing with me and asking me out, practically overnight? It didn’t make sense. “Is this a joke?”

  “I wouldn’t joke about asking you out.”

  Whoa. It was the MIM all over again. The trailer trash girl and the rich, beautiful boy in front of everyone—except this time it was a gym full of students and they couldn’t know what we were saying.

  Or could they? Was I being too trusting? Did some of them already know? Like his friends?

  What a sickening thought. Could this be another dare?

  Please. I didn’t want that to be true. Not from Ash. He was a good guy. Wasn’t he?

  No, I couldn’t fall for it. Ash and Eden dating? It was … impossible. “I don’t think so, Ash. Not interested.”

  He closed his eyes briefly and gave a sharp nod. “My mistake. Sorry I bothered you.” He stalked away and melted into the crowd.

  15

  A Complete Revelation

  Saturday at the Cruz-Holt house was calmer than I expected. When Mundy and I finally got up, the rest of the Holts had left on unspecified errands. We had the whole place to ourselves.

  By noon, we were sitting in the living room, with hot, sweet tea and still-warm, frosted, homemade cinnamon rolls awaiting us on the coffee table.

  I burrowed deeper into their burgundy velvet sofa. Mundy’s family was living in Grampa Holt’s monster house. It was listed on the historic register, with verandas and twelve-foot ceilings and rooms decorated in stark but comfortable IKEA chic.

  My eyelids drifted down. Since I never had a morning off, I was content to lounge around, stuff my face, and stay quiet. Mundy, of course, was not.

  “Do you want your toenails purple or silver?”

  I licked cream cheese frosting from my finger. Yum. “Any other options?”

  Silence greeted my question. Had I discovered a way to shut her up? If only her silence weren’t so obnoxious. I glanced at the other end of the couch. She scowled.

  Okay, whatever. “Purple.”

  She hauled one of my feet on her lap and unscrewed the top off the bottle of polish. “Eden?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “We need a plan.”

  “For what?�
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  “To get you a second chance with Ash.”

  Hadn’t we completed this same discussion around two a.m.? “Do you have an off switch?”

  “No.” She laughed while holding my pinky toe in a viselike grip.

  I’d wait until she was done. No reason to distract her at such a key moment.

  With a flourish, she recapped the bottle and relaxed into the cushions. “One foot done.”

  I wiggled my toes. Not too shabby. “What’s the point when it’ll soon be too cold to wear sandals?”

  “You’ll feel different with painted nails.”

  “Right.”

  “You will. It makes you bolder.” Her eyes widened meaningfully. “Bold enough to ask Ash out on a date.”

  “It was a joke.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t think so.”

  After hours of Mundy wearing me down, I didn’t believe it either. “How can you be sure?”

  “He’s better than that.”

  She was right. He was one of the good guys. But maybe … “Charity?”

  “No. Going out with Eden Moore would be too risky for it to be charity.”

  “Whoa, Mundy. Don’t hold back on my account.”

  “Listen to me. I know what I’m talking about. Ash likes you.”

  I tried to take that in and couldn’t make it fit. “I don’t think I should go out with him.” Which would be why I’d refused him the night before. Mundy and I had covered both facts numerous times since midnight.

  “You should.” She smiled back at me from the other end of the couch. “Now that you’ve had time to think it through, admit the truth.”

  Like I knew what the truth was. My brain was so noisy and opinionated that it drowned out my heart. “Which is…?”

  She moved my finished foot out of the way and gripped the other one. “You like Ash Gupta back.”

  Did I? The way she meant?

  I propped my head on the armrest, stared at the ornate brass light fixture above us, and thought about what it had felt like to be around him last night. I’d liked dancing in his arms and the touch of his hands. Would it have been the same with any guy, or was it important that the guy had been Ash?

  Dancing with Sawyer had been gentle fun. Dancing with Ash had been a complete revelation.

  “We’re both fighting for the Peyton Scholarship, and I want him to lose.”

  “You’re overthinking this.” She shook her head at me, as if lecturing a child. “Pretend that you’re not rivals. Let’s list some reasons for you to go out with him.”

  “Like what?”

  “He’s hot.”

  “Shallow, yet true.”

  “He’s smart.”

  “Intelligence is the problem. We wouldn’t be competing if he were average.”

  “He’s rich enough to spend money on you.”

  I laughed. “I have nothing to compare that to.”

  Triumph gleamed in her eyes. “It’s your turn to list something.”

  “It was nice of him to rescue me on the dance floor.”

  “See, four reasons. That’s three more than most of us care about.”

  Eden and Ash. On a date. It was crazy. “I still can’t believe he asked. His friends would be horrified. And his parents. And mine.”

  “I can understand why his parents would hate you…”

  “Thanks.”

  “… but why would yours hate him?”

  “He’s Hindu.” I hoped she hadn’t notice the hesitation. It was more than religion. My dad would hate for me to date an Asian, especially Indian and especially Ash. My dad lost his job at the power plant when a director converted 10 percent of the jobs to robots. Ash’s father had been that director. “We’d have to keep it a secret.”

  “This is so Romeo and Juliet. I love it.”

  “How comforting, considering how well their story ends.”

  “Both feet done. Don’t move for five minutes.” Mundy slid the second foot from her lap, stood, and stretched. “What are you thinking?”

  I was thinking that I did want another chance. “I rejected him on the dance floor in front of everybody.”

  “Nobody knows but the two of you.”

  “And you.”

  “They probably thought you were fighting.”

  “We were.” But it had been because I was insecure about being a dare. And there was the resemblance to the MIM, except last night I’d done the lines as the real Eden. “How do I get him to ask again?”

  “You have to ask him.”

  “Me?”

  “You’ll be fine. It’s all about the approach.”

  Okay, stuck in neutral here. “Me ask him?”

  “If only we knew enough about him to know where he hangs out…”

  “He’s gone to the media center for years on Monday afternoons.”

  “And he’s noticed that you’ve noticed. The media center is the perfect place to beg.”

  Was she crazy? No way. “In front of his friends? I don’t think so.”

  * * *

  After I finished my homework for the weekend, I spent the rest of Sunday afternoon working on my Peyton application. Sitting on the carpet in my bedroom, with a legal pad on my lap and a pen in my hand, I thought about the essay. What unique experiences and characteristics will you add to the college community at UNC? I’d written about one hundred words and scratched out half of them.

  “Where’s your mom?”

  I jerked in surprise. Dad stood in my bedroom door, gym bag in one hand and stinky towel in the other. He dropped both on Marnie’s favorite braided rug.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Writing an essay.” I tried not to take a deep breath. Gross.

  He leaned over to peer down, sweat dripping from his chin to splat on the paper. “What about?”

  I fought the urge to cover the page with my hands. No need to make him overly suspicious. “Does it matter?”

  He yanked off his tank top and swabbed it under his armpits. It was vaguely disturbing to have a father who worked harder on his body than the guys on the football team.

  “It doesn’t look like you got very far.” He reached down to snatch the pad from my hands.

  I clawed for it but no luck.

  The longer he read, the harder his breathing got. “What is this for?”

  It had to be obvious. I rose to face him. “The Peyton Scholarship.”

  “Dammit, Eden.” He kicked his gym bag out of the way and stomped into the kitchen.

  I followed and snagged the legal pad the moment he put it down. I didn’t want to risk him throwing away what I’d written so far.

  He slammed his hand against the countertop. “I’m tired of saying it. You can’t go away to college.”

  It was insane for him to believe that he could prevent me, but I refrained from pointing this out. “I think I am.”

  “You got it good here. We want you to stay.” He ran a hand over his sweaty, shaved head. “You can go to Cape Fear, get a job at the hardware store, and babysit the Fremonts. You’d have a lot of money saved after a couple of years.”

  I couldn’t stop myself from doing calculations in my head. He was right. At the age of twenty, I’d have an associate’s degree that would transfer. No debt. A bank balance. And I could still take care of Kurt and Marta. That almost made it tempting.

  But this town … It was poisoning me. The people around here believed I was nothing, and as long as I lived here, that’s all I would ever be.

  If I could scrounge together a way to pay for college, I was getting out of Heron. I had to. “Sorry, Dad, but I’m sticking with my plan. Like I’ve said.”

  “What is out there that you want so bad?”

  I watched as he wrenched the fridge door open, his movements jerky. Why was he being so insistent about this? “I want to be a teacher.”

  “A teacher? What a waste.” The fridge door banged shut. The pull top on his beer can tinked.
“Teachers don’t make shit. You’d get more money bartending at the beach.” He took a slug from his beer. “You’ve got the kind of body that earns big tips.”

  Maybe if I tried hard enough, I’d forget he ever said that. I turned to leave.

  “Are you going to do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Don’t fuck with me, Eden.”

  My mouth disengaged from my better judgment. “If I win the Peyton, I’ll attend Carolina. If I don’t, I’ll find somewhere else.”

  “You’re an idiot if you think you stand a chance at that scholarship. White kids don’t win anymore, not unless you change your name to something no one can pronounce.”

  I shook my head, hot and shaky and all kinds of embarrassed. Why did he have to open his mouth and let slime like that slither out? One day, he’d do it in front of the wrong person, and it would be bad.

  He crushed the can on the kitchen counter. For several tense seconds, he stared me down. “Don’t be asking me to sign your dumbass forms.”

  The threat clamped around my throat and squeezed. I’d been hoping to avoid this discussion until Marnie worked on him. “You have to.”

  “I don’t have to do anything.”

  “Please. I can’t apply without your signature.”

  He brushed past me. “Tough.”

  I caught his arm. “Dad, don’t do this to me. I have to get out of this town.”

  “Like Heather,” he mumbled.

  “No. I am nothing like her.”

  “Sorry, baby girl. I’m not ready for you to go. Don’t expect me to do anything to help.” He yanked his arm from my grasp and disappeared down the hallway.

  16

  Mighty Vocabulary

  Monday afternoon arrived. It was time for the get-a-date-with-Ash plan to launch.

  I sat in the media center at a table with my back to the door, shaking with fear. In ten minutes, this horrible thing would be over, one way or the other.

  Mundy reached across the table and patted my hand. “Ash and his friends have come in.”

  I didn’t turn around to see. Instead, I rubbed moist palms against my jeans and practiced deep breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale …

  Not helping. Deep breathing made me dizzy.

  “They took over a table. There are five of them. Ash, Dev, Upala—”

  “Got it, Mundy.” Four witnesses to my humiliation. Or victory. Lucky me.