Just Look Up

by Courtney Walsh

  Something about group laughter always made Lane cringe.

  She sat down as they approached the food line, where a large woman named Janice served them biscuits and gravy. Lane’s eyes darted from her tray to the group of guys when she noticed one of them seemed a little older, the one the others followed. He wore black athletic shorts and a Bulls T-shirt and had a swath of chocolate-brown hair cut short at the edges.

  Something about him was vaguely familiar. Maybe she’d passed him in the stairwell or seen him on campus. Or maybe he was one of the guys whose attention she avoided as she still, after all these shed pounds, kept her head down, her eyes on the floor, her nose in a book like the one she was reading now.

  She didn’t realize she was staring until his head turned and his eyes met hers.

  Snapping back to the page in front of her, feeling caught and vulnerable, she pretended to read as the guys found a table kitty-corner from where she sat. They were loud and made it impossible to concentrate, but Lane knew her inability to focus had less to do with the noise and more to do with the deep-brown eyes she could sense were focused on her.

  She ate quickly, wishing for a chance to escape, finding it difficult to hide when she was the only other person in the cafeteria besides the workers.

  Lane had gotten good at staying firmly planted behind the wall she’d built around herself. She’d mastered the art of putting out a leave-me-alone vibe, which felt safer than putting herself out there, but this guy didn’t seem fazed by it.

  Looking back, she imagined that’s the only reason she and Jasper had ever even spoken. Lane certainly wouldn’t have made the first move. If he hadn’t sauntered over with that casual nonchalance and quiet confidence, she would’ve left the cafeteria that day unscathed.

  But that’s not what happened.

  He did saunter over, and he stood beside her table without speaking. When she glanced up from her book, she threw a brick on the top of her wall, but somehow it fell right back down to the ground.

  “I’ve been trying to get you to notice me for months.” He sat across from her. “You never look up from those books of yours. What is it today? Shakespeare?”

  She held out her book. A mystery she’d been meaning to read for weeks. He looked surprised.

  “You’re Lane.”

  He knew her name? Just the realization of it set off something inside her—something unfamiliar and a little bit exciting.

  “We had Western civ together.”

  “We did?”

  He laughed. “Ouch.”

  “Sorry.” She didn’t have an explanation. She didn’t look around during class. She didn’t look around during anything.

  “It’s okay—I get it. You’re too cool for guys like me.”

  She closed her book and forced herself to look at him. “This is a joke, right? Did your friends send you over here?” It had to be a joke—a prank, something she’d never get used to no matter how many times she found herself in the middle of one. What would it be this time? More snorting at her? Or maybe they’d bet this guy fifty bucks he wouldn’t come over and talk to her, the fat girl.

  His eyes held her hostage, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. She assumed he was ready to burst out laughing, but instead, he positioned his hands on the table barely an inch from hers. “The first time I noticed you, you were standing at your mailbox. You dropped your backpack on the ground and tore open an envelope and the look on your face when you read whatever was inside—I think about that look every single day.”

  Was he serious? Her stomach wobbled just thinking this might not be a prank.

  “I’ve almost talked to you a hundred times, but today, last full day in the dorm, I figured it was now or never. So what do you say, Lane Kelley? Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

  She glanced at his friends, none of whom seemed remotely interested in anything but the food on their plates. They hadn’t put him up to this?

  Things like this didn’t happen to her.

  “Are you sure you’ve got the right person?”

  His brow furrowed only slightly, and his face lit with a smile. “Oh, I’m sure.” The way he looked at her, like she was someone to adore, was intoxicating.

  “I’ll have dinner with you on one condition,” she finally said, aware that her wall was at great risk.

  “Name it.”

  “You have to tell me your name.”

  He’d kissed her hand then behind a mischievous smile, a hint of their future together, a future of stolen kisses and comfortable touches, the kind that come from spending countless hours together. Jasper had become the one person in the world she’d trusted, the one person she loved above everyone else.

  She’d given him everything.

  The thought shamed her now, standing on the deck of his giant house, the one he shared with her only sister. How could she have been so naive?

  In that moment, she looked at Ryan just as he looked at her. He didn’t turn away. He had that same confidence Jasper always had, as if he knew exactly what to do to make her knees weak.

  That was enough of a reason to run straight home to Chicago and never turn back.

  She and Jasper had been so good for so long, but now every memory of him left a sour taste in her mouth.

  If she didn’t get ahold of herself, she knew the exact same thing would happen to her memories of Ryan Brooks, and those were some of the only happy memories she had.

  CHAPTER

  19

  TO SAY THAT DINNER at Jasper and Lindsay’s was awkward could’ve possibly been the understatement of the century. Ryan sat at the large outdoor table between Hailey and Jack with Lane across from him. In his pocket, he could feel her phone buzzing with the kind of madness that demanded attention. How did she function with this constant noise? It was like having a small child tapping on your shoulder nonstop until you gave him exactly what he wanted.

  Across from him, Lane pushed food around on her plate. Today the friendliness of the family and friends seemed like a put-on, like everyone was trying to ignore the air, thick with tension.

  “How’s Nate?” Hailey hated silence, so she was going to jabber her way through it despite the fact that he’d given her an update on Nate’s condition that very morning.

  His sister had never done well with conflict or tension. She chattered on to fill the space, constantly wanting to make sure everyone was okay. She’d always been that way, maybe because when they were kids, everyone was not okay.

  “The doctors are hopeful,” Dottie said from her end of the table. “And so are we. That’s why we decided to go on with Sunday dinner. We’re believing God is going to take care of Nate.”

  “Amen.” Aunt Clarice’s reply was somber, her face grave.

  Ryan had no doubt they truly believed Nate was in God’s hands no matter what happened, and they’d taught him to believe it too. But that didn’t keep him from praying for a miracle.

  “Lane, some of Nate’s friends are at the hospital now, but don’t forget it’s your turn to sit with him this evening,” Dottie said.

  Lane’s fork clanked on the plate. “Mom. I’m heading back to Chicago today, remember?”

  Dottie swallowed the bite of food in her mouth and took a sip of water. “I thought perhaps you’d reconsider.”

  “I can’t. My presentation is tomorrow. I told you this.”

  “You’re really going back when you don’t know if he’ll be okay?” Jeremy’s question was a valid one, but Ryan could practically see the inner turmoil Lane suffered as her phone continued to vibrate in his pocket.

  Lane stared at her plate. “I was given a second chance at a big presentation. I have to be there tomorrow.” Her words were quiet, barely audible, as the rest of the table weighed in on her choice to leave.

  “Can’t they Skype you in or something?” Noah asked. “I mean, you’re on that stupid phone twenty-four hours a day anyway.”

  “Oh, give her a break. Work is important. If she didn�
��t care about her job, we’d all be talking about how lazy she is.” Emily had always been the reasonable one.

  “It’s just a shame how young people’s priorities are so out of whack these days.” Aunt Clarice had always been the most condescending of the bunch.

  On and on it went, and Ryan watched the words pile on top of Lane one after the other, like too-heavy weights she didn’t have the strength to carry.

  Debates like this weren’t uncommon at Sunday dinner. If it wasn’t religion, it was politics. If it wasn’t politics, it was the way schools were run nowadays.

  But Ryan knew how much Lane hated to be the center of attention, and having the debate focused on her was probably excruciating.

  The noise had escalated, the remarks growing more and more heated, when finally a voice at Ryan’s right spoke out louder and firmer than all the others.

  “Let her go.”

  Heads turned toward Lindsay, who had stood and was now looking at Lane.

  Mousy, spineless Lindsay sticking up for Lane, of all people? It was enough to shut the whole table up.

  “She has a life in Chicago—a job that depends on her. Don’t make her feel guilty for going back to it,” Lindsay said, still facing Lane.

  Slowly Lane looked up, her eyes meeting her sister’s, and while Ryan expected to see gratitude there, he saw something else instead.

  Lane pushed her chair away from the table and turned to Lindsay. “I don’t need anyone to stick up for me.” Her chin quivered. “Especially not you.”

  She threw her napkin down on her plate and walked back the same way they’d come, around the side of the house and toward the front yard. But she had no phone and no transportation.

  Now what? Did he follow her?

  One of Lindsay’s friends, Morgan, stood and put an arm around Lindsay. “That was pretty awful of her.”

  Lindsay sniffed, then excused herself, walking toward the house with Morgan at her side.

  “When will those girls ever move past their differences?” Dottie sighed. She didn’t even try to make excuses for them. Not this time.

  Ryan’s eyes trailed down to the end of the table where Jasper sat smugly, eating his burger and sipping his beer as if nothing unusual had happened. Ryan had only gotten bits and pieces of what had happened over the years: Jasper and Lane were dating. He dumped her for Lindsay. That was the gist of it, but judging by the hurt in Lane’s eyes, there was more to the story.

  “I’m her ride,” Ryan told Hailey.

  “Go.”

  He quietly excused himself, and when he walked around to the front of the house, he found her standing near his bike, her back to him. He assumed from her hunched-over posture that she was crying.

  So he did what he always did when the emotions were too thick and the load too heavy to bear.

  “Wanna egg the house?”

  She quickly wiped her cheeks dry, obviously embarrassed he’d found her this way. “What?”

  “Not raw eggs, either. I’m thinking we take Hailey’s deviled eggs and just chuck them at the front door. No one eats them anyway—they’re really gross and they smell—so that’s a bonus.”

  Lane laughed, though he could still see broken sadness in her eyes.

  “Look, Lane, I know it’s been a while, but if you need to talk—”

  She shook her head, stopped him with an upheld hand. “It’s fine. I need to get home. I’m just feeling overwhelmed and out of place.” Her eyes turned glassy. “But what else is new?”

  He stilled. He knew she was leaving—this wasn’t a surprise—but how did he tell her he didn’t want her to go? That he wanted to know all the things that made her sad, all the things that made her laugh? That he wanted to reach over and wipe those tears away?

  What would it take to earn the right to touch her? He was doing a poor job of getting the idea of her out of his head.

  They stood in the quiet for a few long seconds. “What do you need?”

  She looked at him for a moment as if she had no idea how to answer that question. He got the impression she wasn’t accustomed to asking for help.

  “Actually, could you take me to the hospital? And then help me figure out a way to get Otis back to my parents’ house?”

  He studied her. It was as if every buoyant, floating feeling she’d had on their motorcycle ride had been tied down like a balloon to a post.

  “I want to see Nate before I go.”

  “Of course.” He handed her the helmet, his mind racing through a script of things he would not say out loud. “Hop on.”

  CHAPTER

  20

  LANE ARRIVED BACK in Chicago early in the evening, knowing it would be an all-nighter, but hopefully the kind that left her feeling energized and not exhausted.

  She’d said good-bye to Nate and made Ryan promise to text if anything with his condition changed. He told her he didn’t text, but he’d be happy to call her.

  “You don’t text?” She heard the surprise in her own voice. She’d never met anyone who didn’t text. Even Mrs. Pim had mastered the art and she was many years older than Ryan.

  “I prefer actual communication,” he’d told her. She could practically hear the wink in his tone. Was he trying to get under her skin?

  “Texting is actual communication,” she’d argued.

  “Is it, though?” They’d been sitting in Nate’s room having this conversation when a nurse walked in to check the machines her brother was hooked up to.

  Lane stole a glimpse of Ryan, who watched the nurse’s every move, until the second he caught her staring and she had to look away.

  She could not figure him out, but one thing was certain—he was bad news.

  It doesn’t matter how charming he is or for how many years you’ve known him. He will break your heart.

  When the nurse walked out, he wore that lazy smile on his face, the one she’d started to think about in the moments she was supposed to be working.

  “Why do you have that goofy grin on your face?”

  He looked at her then, the kind of gaze that told her he knew too much about what she wasn’t saying aloud. “Some moments just wouldn’t translate in a text.”

  Like the unspoken flirtation he seemed intent on having with her?

  He had a point. She’d never felt vulnerable or exposed because of a text, but that’s exactly how he made her feel in that moment.

  Later, when she was leaving, she put her number in that ridiculous grandpa phone of his, put his number in her phone, and thanked him for his help.

  “Think about my offer, okay? I’ll keep looking for someone else, but I’d rather hire you.”

  “Ryan, you know I’d love to help you, but there’s just so much going on at work.”

  He nodded, but she could see her words stung.

  “I’ll have my assistant send over some names for you, though.”

  Another nod. He opened her car door and Otis hopped inside. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

  “Of course,” she said, her heart pounding. What should she do? Should she hug him? Should she just jump in the car and drive away, knowing there was a good chance another ten years could pass before she saw him again?

  He stood on the other side of her door, latched on to it, looking at her a little too intently. Maybe he didn’t know how to say good-bye either; after all, he was the one who’d gone off to the Army without telling any of them he was leaving.

  She got in the car and he shut the door, then knelt down, bringing his eyes level with hers. “Let me know about the job, okay?”

  She nodded. “And keep me posted about Nate.”

  She’d driven away then, leaving Harbor Pointe and all its unwanted emotional turmoil in the wind.

  Seeing Jasper had been a healthy, if painful, dose of reality. Life for her did not include love. It included simple rules, and if she followed them, she would be okay.

  While Ryan held her phone hostage, Marshall had called four times and sent a whole string of “Wh
y aren’t you responding?” and “Where are you, Lane?” texts. She sent him a quick message that she was on her way back and she’d let him know when she got in.

  He’d responded with Finally. I don’t appreciate you blowing me off today.

  She tossed the phone on the passenger seat of her car, wishing she had the guts to throw it out the window. Ryan’s words raced through her mind.

  “I don’t know how you get anything done with that thing in your pocket,” he’d said when he handed it back to her.

  Lane had frowned. “It tells me exactly what I need to get done. It’s my lifeline.”

  He narrowed his eyes and took his time before he responded. “Disagree.”

  “You wouldn’t understand. Look at the phone you carry.” He seemed unfazed by her judgmental comment. Scratch that. He seemed amused by it as though he knew he was pressing her buttons and a part of him liked it.

  She told herself she didn’t care about his opinion. What did he know? He didn’t even work weekends. He probably spent Saturday and Sunday lying in a canoe somewhere, while she slaved away for clients like Mrs. Pim who scheduled huge dinner parties “in three weeks” and who needed “a completely new outdoor space before I let anyone over here.”

  Never mind that every space in Mrs. Pim’s restaurants was nearly brand-new and perfectly put together. The woman simply loved to change her mind.

  She didn’t doubt Ryan had worked hard on renovating the cottages at Cedar Grove, but he had a nonchalance about him, the kind that suggested his feathers were rarely ruffled, his pace was rarely hurried, and his work was most likely not hard for him.

  She didn’t know if she could ever respect someone who didn’t value hard work. Perhaps it was his fatal flaw. She’d cling to it in an attempt to rid her memory of the way she felt on the back of his bike with her arms wrapped around his muscular torso.

  Now, standing in the elevator that would take her to her apartment, Otis quietly panting beside her, she turned the phone over in her hand. There was nothing wrong with building a career and wanting to be successful at it. People in Harbor Pointe weren’t career people. They had businesses supported by tourists. Jobs that were different from careers. They would never understand.