Between the Girls (The Basin Lake Series Book 3)

by Stephanie Vercier

  I nod.

  Of course we did.

  “Yeah, well, it just brings stuff up for me. I didn’t know how to explain it to you or even what to say. I just sort of froze up.”

  “And that’s all?” I really want to be on the same page as he is, even if I don’t like what’s on it.

  “Sort of.” He shakes his head. “I’m just confused about things.”

  Being confused could mean a lot of things, but the first thing that pops into my head is his ex, the one I’d told him I figured he was still in love with.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid!

  “We’ll start with dinner then,” I say, figuring it’s easiest to just settle on that and not get all worked up about all the what-ifs. I can’t let my grades suffer for a boy, not even a boy I like as much as I do Tyler.

  “Great. Well, my mom mentioned Saturday? Would that work?”

  “Yes… oh… wait. No, this Saturday I’m actually doing volunteer work in Spokane. Could we maybe do Friday?”

  “I’m sure we could. What kind of volunteer work?”

  With less than a minute to get to our next class, I say, “We’ll talk about it later—I don’t want to be late.” I shove away from him, cautiously turning back to see him still watching me.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CLAIRE

  It’s Friday evening, and I finally have a moment to catch my breath. Standing in front of my mirror, I smooth the fabric of my cotton sheath dress over my hips. I’ve paired it with a warm cardigan since October has grown cooler than it was just a week ago.

  From the moment McKenzie had dropped me off at the small nursing home in Basin Lake after school for my job, I’d been in a mad dash to get my two-hour shift over and then move on to homework, which I started while Mom drove me home, even if it made me a little queasy reading in the car.

  I’d thankfully been given a surprisingly easy workload for the weekend, helped by the fact I’d finished a couple of reports and an essay that aren’t due until next week. Working ahead made getting ready for tonight a little less harried, and now I have a few extra minutes to consider whether I should keep my hair up in a ponytail or wear it down, whether to brave a potentially chilly night with peep toe pumps or go with some heeled ankle boots instead.

  If Kate were in a better mood and not moping downstairs, I’d ask her opinion and get her to double check for any stray hairs from Lucile II that might be floating around the house and clinging to my outfit. But, without her second opinion, I just go with my hair down, parted to one side, slip into the heeled boots and run a double-sided sticky roller over my backside just to be safe.

  “Well, don’t you look nice,” Mom says, pausing at what looks like a game of poker that she, Clark and Grandma are playing.

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Who’s the lucky guy?” Clark asks.

  “She’s going over to Tyler Duncan’s for dinner,” Mom replies, pretty much beaming at me before her gaze slides over to Kate’s rumpled up form on the couch in the living room.

  I’m about to head over and give Kate a light punch on her shoulder to remind her she’s among the living when Grandma gets up from the table, walks over and wraps me up in a hug.

  “Such a pretty girl,” she says, looking up at me. “And to think, you were just a little one when you first came to live here. Do you remember coming for summers before that and having grilled cheese sandwiches with me?”

  “I think so.” I laugh a little at Grandma’s trip down memory lane, but I’m grateful to have her, my only surviving grandparent.

  “They’ve been lucky to grow up with you so close,” Mom says to her own mother, slight emotion in her voice.

  “I’m the lucky one,” Grandma says, releasing me from the embrace and heading back to the table.

  “Is it still okay for me to take the car?” I ask, grabbing a jacket just in case it gets colder tonight.

  Picking her cards back up, Mom says, “Of course you can.”

  “What if I want to go somewhere?” The question comes from Kate, sounding entitled and annoyed. Even though she’s been acting like this for a while, it still astonishes me—this girl who is splayed out on the couch messing with her phone doesn’t seem anything like my sister.

  “Then I’m sure we could use Clark’s truck to drive you there.” Mom doesn’t miss a beat, might even be closing in on her breaking point with Kate’s behavior. “Go and have fun,” she instructs me.

  After saying my last goodbyes, even to Kate, I stride out into the dusky evening air. I absolutely love this time of year, anticipating Halloween and Thanksgiving and Christmas and the breaks in between when I don’t have to worry so much about studying, even though I know I’ll spend half my time doing exactly that. Nearing the car, I make the decision here and now that I’ll try to have just a little bit of fun amongst all the college applications and stressing about my GPA.

  And hopefully some of that fun will be with Tyler. After the lake and after that really awkward day in advanced chemistry, the strain seems to have subsided. I’ve purposely kept some distance, being sure to talk to him in class and spend maybe ten minutes with him at lunch, but nothing more. In return, he’s opened up, showed me pictures of a couple friends back in Denver and where he used to live, along with a bunch of hiking pictures he’d taken.

  “You’d probably really love hiking too,” he said yesterday at lunch.

  “Maybe we should go sometime, then,” I replied, having gotten a smile back.

  I’m thinking of his smile when I open the door to Mom’s car, surprised when a pair of headlights illuminate me, nearly blind me. The truck the headlights belong to has turned into our gravel drive, pulling right up behind me.

  Austin.

  I get a sick feeling in my gut, so damn tired of him intruding in my life at the worst possible times and making a general ass of himself like he did at the bonfire and in Spokane. Not wanting to shrink away from him, I charge toward his truck with determination. He must see it in my eyes because he’s already got his hands up in the air when he jumps down from the cab.

  “I come in peace,” he says, standing in place.

  I shake my head, beyond annoyed. “Come for what? It looks an awful lot like you’re stalking me.”

  “Look, I’m sorry.”

  “Are you sorry about last weekend? Are you sorry about messing with Tyler and you and your friends beating him up?”

  “I had too much to drink, okay?”

  “That’s lame, Austin. Shouldn’t you be able to control yourself?”

  “Oh, like your new boyfriend did still wanting to fight after I’d backed off of him?”

  “After you started it!”

  He reaches out to me, touching my shoulder and then sliding his fingers down my arm. “Fine, I fucked up. So help me.”

  I shake him off. “I’m not your mother, Austin.”

  “That’s not what I need. Fuck, it’s just you’re so god damn put together—”

  “Austin…”

  “And I’ve never seen you fail at anything. I need someone like you to keep me in line.” He reaches out for me again, but I step back. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, his eyes pleading.

  God, I don’t even want to waste my breath answering him, but he’s not just going to turn and leave if I don’t.

  “You should be able to do that yourself,” I tell him with the sternest voice I can muster. “And if you just need someone like me, then you don’t need me at all. I’m sure there are plenty of girls who would be happy to keep you in line.”

  He looks at me stiffly, pulls his hands out of his pockets and then drags them over his face, wiping at his eyes. “You just confuse everything I say. What I meant was I need you… I love you.”

  “You do not love me, Austin.” I won’t let him get away with that lie. “If you loved me, then you would have held my hand once in a while. You would have taken me on dates and actually texted me back when I wanted to talk to you.”

 
; “I was stupid,” he says, reaching for me again.

  “Then learn from it, okay! Figure it out. Now, if you wouldn’t mind moving your truck, I’ve got stuff to do.”

  “Like what?” He follows me as I walk back toward Mom’s car.

  “Like go over to Tyler’s for dinner, the guy you felt the need to sick your friends on.”

  Austin looks angry now. “He’s a pussy, Claire. I know it… maybe he’s gay or something. I can’t quite figure it out, but it’s something.”

  I laugh, a little hysterically even to my own ear. “I don’t give a flying fuck what you think about Tyler.”

  “Yeah, you think he’s such a man, then? He isn’t even in PE, and he doesn’t play any sports. I heard he has some kind of medical excuse, which is basically code for being a pussy. And you know, I could have kicked his ass in Spokane if I really wanted to, if I wasn’t half drunk!”

  I’m fuming inside for so many varied reasons that it’s hard to funnel all that anger into just a few words. “Even if that’s true, even if there is some kind of medical reason for him not being jock enough for your standards, then it’s none of your business—it’s nobody’s business!”

  “I’m just saying—I’m just trying to make you see that I’m the right guy for you.”

  “Then prove it!” I challenge him, not really wanting or needing him to prove it to me, but maybe to himself someday. “Stop trying to put Tyler down, stop drinking so much or being such a dick, and stop coming after me. I thought I loved you last year because you were my first, and that was more important to me than I’d thought it would be, but you know what? You just kind of spat all over that, whether you meant to or not, and it’s over. You just need to accept that.”

  I’ve flustered him. I can see behind those eyes of his that his brain is working overtime to figure out the best response to me. At this point, all I want is for him to get into his truck and leave, but he doesn’t quite get that.

  “I’m not done,” he says, balling his fists. “This isn’t over.”

  I sigh. “Please, just leave, okay?”

  With dark eyes, he turns away from me, climbs into his big truck and actually slowly backs out instead of peeling out like I’d imagined he would.

  Mom and Clark are on their way out of the house before I can slide into the car.

  “I heard voices,” Mom says.

  “That wasn’t Austin out here, was it?” Clark adds like a concerned father. He never did like Austin much.

  “It’s fine,” I tell them, waving off their worry. “He just stopped by because I promised to help him with some stuff at school.”

  Total lie.

  Mom gives me a what the hell are you thinking look.

  “But that’s it,” I say, wanting to ease their concern but also really needing to leave so I can get to Tyler’s on time.

  “I can drive you over to Tyler’s,” Clark offers.

  “I’m fine, totally fine!”

  “Well, okay,” Mom says. “Keep your phone close and call if you need us, okay?”

  She gives me a hug, and then I’m finally in the car, turning the ignition on and seeing the time. I’m a good ten minutes behind now, and I might need at least that much time to calm myself down. Hopefully Tyler and his family won’t judge me too harshly for it.

  TYLER

  I’d wanted to keep things casual for dinner with Claire, not wanting her to feel overwhelmed or that she had to be nervous about acting a certain way around my parents. But Mom insisted on going all out, and so I helped her set the table with a fall themed tablecloth, her favorite china, stemware and silverware.

  “I really miss all the dinner parties we used to have,” she says, looking over the table again and straightening the silverware. Then she’s rushing into the kitchen like she’s forgotten something in the oven.

  Those dinner parties she mentioned were fun, the ones I could remember at least. Mom and Dad used to have lots of people over, couples that would bring their own kids for me to play with until we’d exhaust ourselves and fall asleep on the couch. Our parents would continue on, fueled by their laughter and a good amount of alcohol.

  After the attack, I don’t remember there being many more dinner parties and definitely a lot less laughter in our house.

  “She’s not one for punctuality,” Dads says, sucking on a beer and pacing back and forth while Mom brings out a carafe of ice water before finally allowing herself to sit and wait for Claire.

  “It’s only been a few minutes.” I’m gripping the back of one of the chairs and check my phone again. It’s actually more like ten minutes—maybe she’s decided not to come at all.

  “She’ll be here,” Mom says with confidence. “She’s such a pretty girl, and you’re such a handsome young man.” Mom looks at me with that same look of hope she always offers me, the one that is tinged with sadness that I’d been dealt a bad card in life and that somehow it will be a miracle if I ever find the right girl.

  Dad, on the other hand, continues to try to keep my thoughts away from romance. Stopping at the table and setting his beer down, he says, “I think it’s better if you just have a friendship with her for the time being. No need to get bogged down your last year of high school.”

  I look to Mom who doesn’t say anything to that. Maybe, in her own way, she agrees. Maybe she’s still worried Claire will do the same thing to me that Laney did.

  “It’s just dinner,” I remind them both, pushing back from the chair, looking out the window and just wishing Claire would get here.

  “Dinner can lead to a lot more,” Dad says. “Best to wait—there will be plenty of girls at college.”

  I don’t turn back around to face them. They both have their own ideas about how I should live my life and their own fears about the decisions I make. But I want to see where this thing with Claire is going. I want to give it a chance, even if I’m confused about things, confused about Laney and what is fair and what isn’t. All I know is that when Claire was pissed at me on Monday, I felt like shit—I couldn’t stand to have her mad at me, couldn’t stand the idea that I’d fucked up so bad at the lake that she hadn’t wanted anything to do with me. But she’d given me another chance, and I wasn’t going to waste it.

  “I hear a car,” Mom says as headlights beam through the early evening darkness.

  Relieved, I head to the door. “I’ll go out and meet her,” I tell them, just wanting them to ease back and not pounce on her as soon as she walks in.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late,” she calls to me as I meet her on the porch, her boots crunching against the last bit of gravel.

  “It’s no problem.” I go down a couple of the front steps just to meet up with her. Not surprisingly, she’s looking beautiful.

  “Hey,” she says, on the same step as me.

  “Hey.” I want to reach out and touch her, her body like a magnet drawing me closer, but I keep my hands to myself and do my best to hide my eagerness.

  “I should have brought something. I was actually thinking of bringing some wine for your parents from my mom’s stash, but being under drinking age and all, I figured they wouldn’t look too kindly on that.”

  “You a wine drinker yourself?” I move up one step, and she follows.

  “No… well, only on special occasions, like sometimes at Christmas or New Year’s when Mom lets us have a few sips.”

  “Well, we only expected you to bring yourself, and you’ve done that.” I extend my hand to hers, and she takes it.

  “About fifteen minutes late. I’m a little embarrassed.”

  “No worries. I’m just glad you’re here,” I say, leading her up the last of the stairs and through the front door.

  “Hi, Claire,” Mom says, nervous and excited, but also welcoming. “I’m so glad you made it.”

  “I’m sorry about being late.”

  Mom steps forward and pulls Claire into a gentle hug, a look of surprise on Claire’s face that eases into a soft smile.

  “
Not a problem,” Dad offers, extending his hand to Claire once Mom has released her. “Nice to see you again.”

  “You too, Mr. Duncan. I’ve been meaning to stop by the firehouse just to say hi, but between school and stuff… well… I’ll get over there.”

  “I’d like that,” Dad says, his icy attitude beginning to thaw.

  “Well, come on in!” Mom leads Claire in and to the table while Dad catches my eye—is that approval I see?

  “Wow, Mrs. Ducan. The table is beautiful.”

  “Tyler helped me. You’d think he’d be all brawn and muscle, but he’s got a soft touch when one is needed.”

  I make a groaning sound and feel the back of my neck flush.

  Claire laughs. “I like sensitivity in a guy.”

  The flush spreads until I’m sure my entire face is red.

  “I do too,” Mom says, eyeing Dad.

  “Oh, so I do have a sensitive side after all?” he asks, relaxing even more.

  “It comes out every once in a while.”

  Dad proves he’s at least a gentleman when he pulls my mother’s chair out for her.

  I’m on the opposite side of the table from Claire, and I start to step around, deciding I should do the same, but she just looks at me and softly shakes her head, as if to say, “I’ve got it covered.”

  “Well, we’re so glad you could come and have dinner with us,” Mom says. “I’m not sure if your family prays before dinner—we don’t—we just get right down to the eating. I hope that’s okay.”

  Claire laughs. “Oh, yeah, of course.”

  “I hope you like steak,” Dad says, taking a big chunk of meat from one of the platters before passing it over to Claire.

  She takes the platter with both hands and just stares, sort of frozen, her mind surely working overtime to decide how to decline the offering.

  “Don’t mess with her, Dad.” I’m annoyed, even if he’s just trying to be funny.

  “We have fish for you.” Mom throws an admonishing glance at Dad. “I hope you like salmon?”