The Possibility of Somewhere

by Julia Day

  “Ash nodded at me.”

  “Lovely. Maybe you should be his girlfriend.”

  “Go.”

  “My legs won’t move.”

  “Coward.”

  “Yep.” What was wrong with me? Why did I care what his circle of friends thought?

  Well, I did, so I’d have to drag Ash away from them. “I’ll find somewhere quiet to talk.”

  “Let him pick where.”

  “Why?”

  She gave me a pitying look. “You have to involve him. It makes guys happy to think they’re in charge.”

  I rose. “You are scary.”

  As I approached, his friends fell silent one by one, their expressions ranging from surprise to hostility, but I was a girl on a mission and it was too late to stop. “Ash,” I said in a tone resembling a bullfrog.

  Ash went still, his face blank as if I were a nothing. “What?”

  “Can we talk?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “In private?”

  He stared at the table for several seconds, then shot to his feet. “Where?”

  “Wherever you want.”

  “Biographies.” He took off without a backwards glance.

  I trotted after him. He’d picked the perfect section, shelf after shelf of dusty, musty books no one ever read. It would be deserted.

  When I caught up, he waited in the farthest corner, straight and tall, arms crossed. I stopped a couple of feet away and shuddered as his scathing gaze raked me from head to toe.

  “All right, Eden. What do you want?”

  Excellent question.

  I wanted him.

  I wanted us.

  Had I lost my mind? This was Ash. The Stanford-bound dick who was ruining my future over a scholarship endorsement he would turn down. The guy who, no matter how good he looked to me, would be battling me to the last breath for the honors we both wanted. When had my attitude gone from contempt to I can’t think of anything else?

  And why would he want me? I was the girl that everyone ignored unless they needed to raise the average on a group assignment. The girl that guys had to be dared to touch.

  I inhaled. Exhaled. It didn’t help to calm me. “I’ll be honest—”

  “You were honest on Friday night.”

  “Please, Ash, hear me out.” In the entire time since he’d arrived as a freshman, we’d barely tolerated each other. Yet, six weeks into our senior year, things were noticeably different. I didn’t understand why, but I was anxious to see where they might lead. “I’m trying hard not to screw up what I have to say, but I might anyway because the words are coming out as fast as I think them.”

  “Like the improv?”

  I winced. We didn’t have such a happy track record with improvisation. “Something’s changed between us this semester. There have been times where we’ll be throwing out ideas about projects, and I’ll look at you, and it feels like you know what I’m thinking. Like our minds are connected. And during the MIM … It was supposed to be Darcy and Elizabeth, but maybe it was us.” This speech would be easier if he didn’t look so grim. “Being around you hasn’t been the same since. I don’t know where this is headed or whether I want to follow, but I can’t help wondering.”

  “Go on.”

  “You can be such a control freak. You get on a team, and you want to take charge and roll over everyone.”

  He snorted.

  “A month ago, I thought it was arrogant. Today it’s exciting. How’d that happen?” I trembled, afraid that I hadn’t gotten through. “This is crazy.”

  “What’s crazy?”

  “You and me. We’ve known each other for three years. I’ve always thought you were gorgeous, but we’ve never been friendly. We’ve never talked about anything that mattered.” I searched his face for some sign he shared my confusion. “How did we get here?”

  His arms dropped to his sides as he took a step closer. “For me, things began to change around the MIM. What we said was real and wrong and painful. Then you made us apologize to each other. To get the toxic stuff behind us. It was amazing and brave. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since.”

  “And?”

  “I want more.”

  “I do, too.” He had that look on his face again, the same one he’d worn Friday night, like I was something extraordinary, like I wasn’t the antisocial brain taking up space in the back of a classroom. “Ask me again,” I whispered.

  He remained quiet for so long I began to worry. What was going on inside his head? It was awful. Putting myself on the line and dangling in the silence. No positive feedback. Was this what I’d put him through at the dance?

  “Why don’t you ask me?”

  “Fine.” I took a deep breath, cleared my throat, took another deep breath. All I had to say was Will you go out with me? Simple, one-syllable words. Strung together in a fairly standard pattern. Yet it was horrible. Nerve-wracking. I wavered on my feet, felt the bookshelves cut into my side, and held onto them for support.

  Was this what guys went through when they asked girls out? I’d never realized how much courage it took when the answer wasn’t a sure thing. “Go out with me?”

  Really? I couldn’t even speak in a complete sentence?

  He studied my face for what seemed like forever. “Yes.”

  “What? Yes?”

  He smiled then, finally. A beautiful, sexy smile. “Yes.”

  Holy crap, he made me breathless. “How…” Oh, where was my mighty vocabulary when I needed it? “Great.”

  “When?”

  “Okay. Yeah.” There were decisions to be made, but who made them? Was this my date? Or was it his? He’d asked first, but then I’d asked. “Uh … Saturday?”

  “Saturday works for me.”

  “Where?”

  “Your call.”

  Relief made me light-headed. I gave him a mock frown. “Are you saying that I have to make the plans, since I asked?”

  “Yes.”

  Mrs. Fremont asked me to watch Kurt from nine-thirty to three. I couldn’t let them down, especially Marta. Plus, there was the cost. How much did I have to spend? Would coffee out be enough? Nah. I had to do more but how much more? “Do you know the diner on the town square? Charlie’s?”

  He nodded.

  “Could you meet me there for breakfast?”

  “Sure.” He laughed, low and happy. “Are you driving?”

  “I don’t have a car.”

  “I can pick you up.”

  Ash—picking me up? He would see where I lived. My dad would go psycho. And Marnie? I didn’t know about her. She’d spent the past three years hearing me trash the “arrogant asshole Ash.” She’d listened—usually without comment—and never said anything racist, but I couldn’t be sure if she let Dad do the talking for her, or if she didn’t want him to know how she really felt.

  Either way, I couldn’t let them see me with Ash. “You can meet me at the diner. Is eight too early?”

  “Eight is perfect.”

  17

  The Wiser Option

  On a normal day, four seconds was about the maximum amount of time I spent picking out clothes. Saturday was a big exception.

  I had some tough criteria. The fabric had to withstand the potential damage that inevitably followed from whatever activity Kurt chose to play. The outfit had to be ordinary enough that my parents wouldn’t wonder what was up. And I wanted to look good for my first date.

  I settled on shorts (necessitating a shave—ugh), lacy gold camisole, and a lavender overshirt (buttoned when around my folks, unbuttoned when around Ash.)

  What should I do about my hair? A ponytail was too unspecial. Loose was too suspicious.

  “Marnie?” I called.

  She emerged from the shadows of the master bedroom, rubbing her eyes. “What, sweetie?”

  “Could you do something with my hair?”

  “I’d be glad to. What did you have in mind?”

  “A French braid.”

>   It took her about a minute to whip my hair into a braid. She was too delighted to ask questions.

  I rode with my dad downtown. We parked near the hardware store.

  “Hey,” he said, yawning. “Maybe I’ll head over to the diner with you. I could grab a cup of coffee.”

  Nope. I could not permit a chance meeting between Dad and Ash. “It’s almost eight. You don’t want to clock in late.”

  “You’re right.” He scowled. “They’ll have coffee in the break room.”

  I strolled along the sidewalk, not increasing the pace until my father had disappeared inside the store. The timing was just right. As I was nearing the diner, a faint hum throbbed up a side street. Ash’s blue convertible BMW Z4 circled the town square and parked in front of me. He slid from the driver’s side.

  “Mornin’.” I cringed at my husky Southern drawl. I thought I’d rid myself of that.

  “Hi.” He whipped off his shades and looked me over head to toe, smiling slowly.

  Holy crap, he was perfect.

  Who was I kidding? Eden Moore with … this? I spun around and hurried to the diner.

  He made it there ahead of me and opened the door, which left me all achy and charmed inside. I picked a booth in the back. He slid across from me and skimmed the menu.

  “What do you recommend?”

  “Everything.” The smell of country ham frying had me wavering about a stack of pancakes.

  Charlie’s daughter Norah approached, notepad in hand. “What can I get for you?”

  I looked at Ash. Since I’d budgeted twenty bucks for this outing, I’d better let him order first. “Go ahead.”

  “Oatmeal deluxe…”

  I relaxed. Five dollars. I had sufficient funds. Pancakes and ham for me.

  “… yogurt, strawberries, and decaf coffee with creamer, please.” He snapped the menu shut and handed it to the waitress with a smile.

  My heart sank. After his meal plus tax and tip, I would have little left over. “Whole wheat toast with peach preserves and hot tea.”

  Norah’s eyebrows shot up. Since I used to work here, she knew that toast and tea were more of an appetizer for me. I bared my teeth at her meaningfully.

  She shrugged. “Okey-dokey, hon.” Then she was gone, and it got quiet.

  I unrolled silverware wrapped in a paper napkin and carefully set my place.

  He tapped his fingers on the table. “So … hi.”

  “Hi,” I said without looking up. With precise movements, I adjusted the knife until it lay at a right angle to the table’s edge. What were we supposed to do? With our orders out of the way, the two of us should move on to whatever it was couples did on a date. If only I knew what that was.

  “Have any plans today?” Ash said.

  It was a start. “I have to babysit.”

  “Where?”

  “For Kurt.”

  “Good.”

  It was my turn to ask him something, right? But my brain went blank. I tried not to fidget and wished I could dream up some clever conversation.

  Eight days. It was astonishing how quickly everything had turned around. Eight days from dance to date. Eight days from thanks for rescuing me to what am I doing here. It scared me more than I’d expected.

  He’d consumed me nearly nonstop since homecoming. While I was studying, thoughts of him hammered at my brain, demanding attention. His smile. His voice. I replayed conversations we’d had as well as conversations that had only existed in my head. I’d been practicing for days how to be cool and smart and alluring. Now, those practice sessions deflated like leaky balloons. I had him all to myself, and I didn’t say a word. Just sat here on my side of the table, a tentative smile on my face, wanting to talk and not doing it.

  “How long will you be with Kurt?”

  “Around six hours.”

  Silence again. I didn’t know how to do this.

  Ash did. He’d dated Sarita Patel last year and Rekha Srinivasan before that. They were beautiful and talented and good at everything they tried. His parents had probably loved them, exactly the sort of girls they would want around their son. The only reason he wasn’t dating one of them still was that they were both in college now.

  Norah appeared at the table with two mugs. I added four teaspoons of sugar to mine. I needed calories I didn’t have to pay for.

  The interruption gave me a moment to collect my thoughts. It didn’t help. There weren’t any to collect.

  I was terrified of making a bad impression. Keeping my mouth shut seemed the wiser option. Maybe I should start out with safe topics and progress from there, except I couldn’t think what those might be. Not college applications. Not past relationships, which would be short for me since I’d never had one. And definitely not families.

  The silence dragged on. I’d looked forward to being with him, and we sat here like strangers.

  “Do you babysit a lot?” he asked.

  Whoa. I’d been scouring my brain, trying to think of something to ask about his life. It hadn’t occurred to me to keep talking about mine. “I only babysit Kurt and Marta. Today is special, since I usually stay overnight. Mrs. Fremont is a single mom. While she works a graveyard shift, I sleep at their house and get the kids ready for school the next morning.”

  “Is that why you come in late on Wednesdays?”

  “Yeah. She’s a physician’s assistant in the ER. She can’t always leave her job on time.”

  “Which hospital?”

  “In Wilmington.”

  “My mother works there.”

  “Your mom is her boss.” Mrs. Fremont had a lot of respect for Dr. Gupta, calling her fair and hardworking and one of the best doctors around, but the staff meetings on Mrs. Fremont’s days off? They sucked big time.

  “She’s mentioned my mother?”

  “Yeah.” I swallowed hard. Might as well get the ugliest fact out of the way. “My dad used to work at the power plant.”

  “Did he quit?”

  “Laid off.”

  Ash gave a shake of his head as realization settled in. His father had fired mine. “Wow.”

  I played with a salt shaker and wondered what topics could make this conversation worse, but there weren’t any.

  Our food arrived. Ash sat back, silent and expressionless, as Norah checked to see if we were set. After she left, though, he didn’t make a move to eat. Just regarded me steadily across the table.

  I smiled, shrugged, and picked up a triangle of toast. It had to be buttered heavily, with extreme care and attention.

  “Eden, our parents don’t have to be part of this.”

  “Yes, they do.” Why didn’t we go ahead and give up? This thing between us was ridiculous. “Yours would hate finding out that you were on a date with me.”

  “They would, which is why I haven’t told them.” He poured creamer into his coffee and watched the white wisps curl. “Have you told yours?”

  I shook my head.

  “If we want this badly enough, we won’t let our family and friends get in the way.” He slid his arm across the table, his hand open in invitation. “We are going to do this, Eden.”

  “How?” I linked my fingers through his.

  “Keep it between you and me as long as we can.”

  It was hard to think around the velvet slide of his thumb across my palm. “Mundy knows. She’s jumping for joy.”

  “Besides Mundy, then.” He released my hand and reached for his spoon.

  The ice was broken. My earlier weirdness faded.

  The rest of the meal was spent in nonstop conversation. We never ran out of things to say. I wouldn’t be able to remember a single word later, but I loved it while it lasted.

  Norah stopped by to refill our mugs and leave the bill.

  Ash picked up the ticket and reached for his wallet.

  “No way.” I snatched it from him.

  He gave me a challenging look. He must’ve planned to fund our dates, whether from old-fashioned chivalry or my obvious
lack of income, I couldn’t tell.

  “I asked. I’ll pay.” I lifted my chin. We were equals in this relationship. That’s just the way it had to be.

  His lips twitched. “Okay.”

  We left soon afterwards, since I had to arrive at the Fremonts by nine-thirty. Marta was peeking through the curtains as we pulled up.

  “Thanks for the ride.” I smiled shyly, not sure what happened next. Would he kiss me? Did people kiss after breakfast dates? Since I asked, was I supposed to initiate it?

  He reached across the space and cupped my face with both hands. “Will you go out with me next Saturday?”

  “I’m free all day.”

  “All day sounds good.” He stared at my mouth and then looked into my eyes, as if seeking permission.

  Oh, yes. He had permission.

  Our lips touched.

  I couldn’t think. Instead, I closed my eyes and yielded to my other senses. The scent of spicy cologne. The faint taste of coffee. The warm pressure of his fingers.

  Mostly, I wanted to focus on the feel of his mouth moving over mine. So many contrasts. Sweet and hot. Firm and soft. The kiss lasted forever and ended way too soon.

  Today, I’d had my first date and my first kiss. Ash could become addictive.

  He pulled back enough to smile down at me. “Do you want me to pick you up?”

  “What?” His question might have to wait until after I recovered.

  “Next Saturday?” He kissed me again—soft, sweet, and brief. “We could drive to Jacksonville and hang out.”

  “Yeah.” I looked away from him, embarrassed by my reaction. It ought to take more effort to turn me into a quivering pile of stupidity.

  “Your address?” he prompted.

  “Uh…” If this car pulled into our neighborhood, it would grab attention. Even if my folks weren’t home, the residents would note and report his presence. I wasn’t ready for any rumors yet. I needed us to become strong before others began the attack. “I’ll meet you at the gazebo.”

  18

  A Mere Backdrop

  Monday morning was torture at school. When I entered the English classroom, Ash glanced at me without interrupting his conversation with Upala. I could’ve been anyone.

  Okay, I got that we had to keep this a secret, but I hadn’t thought about how hard it would be to go through the entire school day like nothing had changed between us.