Reading Between the Lines

by Katrina Abbott

  “Will you risk everything?” I asked looking at him as intensely as he so often looked at me. “Because that’s exactly what it would take for us to be together.”

  His hesitation told me everything I needed to know. I stood up. “I can’t do this.”

  “Wait,” he said, grabbing my hand as I walked past him. But I pulled it from his grasp.

  “I can’t, Brady. Maybe it’s a good thing that you won’t be teaching for a while. I think we need a break from each other.”

  And then without another word, I left, both glad and devastated that he couldn’t chase me.

  Happy Birthday

  Now that Brady had been effectively eliminated from my shrinking list of potential boyfriends, I could focus on Dave. But I was determined to still see through my waiting until after Thanksgiving plan, which really hadn’t had anything to do with Brady anyway. I wanted to make sure I wanted Dave for Dave and not just because I had broken up with Jared and wasn’t able to be with Brady.

  It felt very mature of me, even though it was basically killing me to know I had to not kiss him when I saw him tonight. If I did, it was going to negate all my plans about making sure I was going to be with him for the right reasons.

  Which is why at dinner I begged Celia to go get me some lobster or crab cakes or even canned salad shrimp—I didn’t care what—but I needed some kind of seafood insurance to keep us from making out. She’d brought out four shrimp and a boxed cupcake that she assured me had been baked in a completely different part of the kitchen and wouldn’t have come into contact with any seafood. I was suspicious, but she said they were very diligent about that kind of thing since they did the catering for outside events, so I had to trust her. And anyway, Dave had assured me he’d gotten that prescription filled for his EpiPen and carried it at all times.

  Then, I made sure Emmie was coming with me to meet with him, despite her protests. But she’d bought him that guitar and it was his birthday, I reasoned. She should be there to give it to him herself. I couldn’t tell her my other reason for wanting her there, which was to see them around each other—if there was any doubt Dave was over her or vice-versa, it wasn’t going to work for us. I meant it when I told Emmie I wouldn’t date him if it was going to come between her and I. As much as I did really like him and it would be crappy if after all this I couldn’t be with him, Emmie was my friend and roommate and that always had to take precedent.

  So while my intention to keep away from him was mature, my tactics probably weren’t. But like they say, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

  At a few minutes to seven, Emmie grabbed the guitar and I slid his card into the envelope, grabbed his cupcake and we headed over to the library to meet him. We sat in our regular study room, chatting about nothing as we waited. I think she was as nervous as I was to see him, but neither of us broached the subject, even though it kind of created a tension in the room before he even arrived.

  He came in a few minutes after us, seeing me first and giving me a big smile, but then noticing Emmie and doing a double-take as the smile dissolved from his face. “Oh,” slipped out of his mouth involuntarily before he could paste on a friendly smile and greet us both with a, “Hey.”

  Maybe this was a bad idea, I thought, cringing at how awkward this all suddenly was.

  Emmie looked at Dave and I watched her expression very carefully for signs that she wasn’t totally over him. Then I looked at him for the same. Thankfully, I saw nothing that resembled lovesick regret, only some tense awkwardness, which I guess was to be expected.

  “So, happy birthday,” Emmie said, breaking the silence.

  “Thanks,” Dave said, dropping into one of the chairs across the table from us. He looked around. “Where’s my cake? I was promised cake.”

  I pushed the cupcake box at him. “Here.”

  He opened it and grinned like he’d never seen a cupcake before. “We forgot candles,” I said.

  Dave shrugged as he picked up the chocolate cupcake, peeled away the paper on one side and shoved most of it in his mouth. Then he looked between Emmie and I, chewed a few times and said, “Sorry, was I supposed to share?”

  We laughed and before we even answered, he took another huge bite.

  Emmie and I exchanged glances and I nodded at her to go first. She looked at Dave and said, “So yeah, this might be weird, but I bought you this present a while ago and although we’re not dating anymore, Brooklyn convinced me that I should still give it to you.”

  Dave was still chewing, but he’d slowed down as he listened and I could tell he was wondering what was coming.

  Emmie leaned down to pick up the guitar from under the table and Dave shot me a questioning look, but I just smiled back at him. She brought the guitar up and placed it gently on the table in front of him. He stared at it for a half second and then looked at her, his mouth open, eyes wide. “This is a...” he didn’t finish.

  Emmie nodded. “I knew you wanted one.”

  “You didn’t have to do this, Em,” he said, the last bite of his cupcake forgotten as he swept the box out of the way so he could pull the guitar toward him.

  “I wanted you to have it,” she said. “I still do. Just...don’t read into it too much, okay?” she added, her eyes darting to me.

  I was watching them closely and part of me was jealous that she had such a perfect gift for him and all I’d brought was a card and a cupcake. I worried that I’d never be able to give him something so meaningful (and expensive—I wasn’t exactly broke, but this guitar had been way more than I could ever justify spending to my dad. Emmie’s resources were seemingly unlimited), but I tried to convince myself of that whole ‘it’s the thought that counts’ thing and that once we were dating and I really got to know him, I’d be able to come up with meaningful gifts, too.

  “It’s too much. Seriously, Em,” he said, pushing it toward her, but keeping his hands on it.

  She shook her head. “It’s custom made. I can’t return it. Either you take it or I’m going to donate it to charity.”

  He seemed to be dealing with some sort of inner conflict about it, like he was wondering if Emmie really did want to donate it to charity, and with her and her causes, I could hardly blame him. But she finally let him off the hook. “You know what?” she said, giving him one of her best challenging looks. “If you don’t take it, I’m going to go all rock star and smash it, so you’d better just take it.”

  Obviously knowing Emmie and what she was capable of, he quickly pulled the guitar toward himself, wrapping his arms around it in a protective gesture. “You wouldn’t!”

  Emmie and I both laughed.

  I slid the card I’d brought toward him. He gave me a huge smile, completely disproportionate to what was inside the envelope. “Don’t get all excited,” I warned. “It’s not a gift card or anything that comes even close to comparing to a custom-made guitar.”

  “I wasn’t comparing,” he said. “Thank you.” And then he slipped the card into his backpack. Which was completely unnecessary, because it was just a goofy card I’d ordered online when I’d realized I wouldn’t be able to get off campus before his birthday.

  “You can open it,” I said quickly, suddenly feeling weird that he thought there might be private stuff on it that he’d have to hide from Emmie.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll look at it later.”

  Gah, so awkward.

  “So, are you going to play it?” I asked, because he looked like he was totally itching to.

  Obviously not needing any more encouragement, he smiled and picked up the guitar, pushing back away from the table and cradling it on his legs. But before he could even test the strings, Emmie was standing up.

  “Where are you going?” I asked, surprised.

  “I’m exhausted and still have some homework to finish up before bed.”

  Dave’s face fell. “Stay for one song?”

  “It’s okay. I really should go. Happy Birthday, Dave,” she said,
giving him a smile before she left us alone in the study room in the library with her name on it.

  Hook, Line and Sinker

  Dave and I both looked at the door for several long moments and I held my breath, worried that he really had wanted her to stay.

  “Is she okay?” he asked, bringing my attention back to him.

  “It’s weird, right?” I said.

  He screwed up his face. “Maybe a little.”

  “Or a lot?” I said, somehow managing to smile.

  He chuckled. “Yeah, maybe a lot. She didn’t have to give me this, though,” he said, lifting the guitar a little before settling it back on his legs.

  I shrugged. “It made no sense not to. She ordered it a long time ago. You like it, right?”

  He nodded reluctantly. “I do. It’s amazing.”

  I sighed.

  “But it doesn’t make me want to get back with her,” he said quietly, looking into my eyes through his lashes.

  My heart fluttered because it was like he’d read my mind and then had eased my worries with one sentence.

  I cleared my throat. “So let’s hear it,” I said, suddenly eager to change the subject and hear him play.

  He plucked at the strings experimentally a few times and fiddled with the knobs, then hunched over the guitar and started playing the opening to a song that felt really familiar. He was really good, which I guess shouldn’t have surprised me, since Emmie had already told me he was.

  And he was mesmerizing to watch, his hands moving as though the song was stored in his fingertips, his eyelids down as he concentrated on the music.

  Then he began to sing.

  He was amazing. My bones seemed to melt in my body as I was carried away by the skill in his playing and the silky deep tones of his voice. I mean, he had a smooth speaking voice, but him singing? Wow, was all I could think as my brain scrambled in awe. And then I realized where I knew the song from and gasped; it was the song he and I had danced to at the first dance when Emmie had practically thrown us together to prove she was okay with us being friends. How ironic, considering how that had all turned out and where we were now.

  He looked up at me with knowing eyes and even as he sang for me, the corners of his mouth turned up. This was no coincidence. He was totally seducing me with his song. As I stared at him with what were surely googly eyes, I realized there was no resisting him; his plan was working.

  Hook, line and sinker.

  Good thing I’d eaten that shrimp.

  ~ ♥ ~

  I trudged back to the main Rosewood building in something of a hormonal daze. I had managed to keep my distance from Dave, thanks to the shrimp, and even managed to stand firm when I told him I wouldn’t see him again until after Thanksgiving. He’d been disappointed about that, which I could hardly blame him for, since I was secretly feeling the same, but it was best that we have that time apart to make sure we were doing the right thing. Also, I felt like I needed another check-in with Emmie to make sure she was still good with all this. Her abrupt departure from the library had given me a bit of a feeling that she wasn’t as sure about it as she’d said she would be.

  So I’d left Dave with a brief hug and resisted the urge to even kiss him on the cheek. It was a big, important goodbye, since the next time we saw each other would be when we would decide if we were going to be together, and we’d made plans to get together on the Thursday after Thanksgiving, which was two weeks away. I was already pretty sure of my answer, but wasn’t going to tell him that yet, just in case.

  We would still have to talk on the phone or via e-mail to finalize plans for the Santa Hop—the toy drive where a bunch of students would dress up like Santa and go to the local hospital and shelter and give out presents to kids in the week before Christmas. I was going to London for the holidays, but Mom had already booked my flight and it wasn’t until the day after the Santa Hop, so I’d be able to participate. Dave said Jared and a few of the other guys were on board and I knew Emmie wanted to help, too, I just had to make sure it wasn’t going to be weird for her.

  I stopped by the third floor lounge to see if Emmie was there, but she wasn’t, though Chelly and Kaylee were sitting at a table with their laptops doing homework. Or, I realized as I got closer, Kaylee was doing homework and Chelly was looking at hot guys on Pinterest.

  “Hey,” I said and then turned to leave to find Emmie in our dorm room.

  “What’s the rush?” Chelly asked. “Come sit with us. I just found a new gallery. Come ogle with me,” she pointed at her computer screen as Kaylee rolled her eyes.

  “Stop mocking me,” Chelly said to her. “You have a real hot guy; I have to get mine from the internet.”

  “Are you kidding?” I said, incredulous. “You could have any guy you want.”

  She looked at me like this was news to her. “What?”

  I glanced at Kaylee to see if was hearing this. She looked as confused as I was. But it was me who said, “At every dance, you have guys flocking around you. You could have any one you want. I assumed...no wait, I’m sure I heard you say you weren’t looking for a steady boyfriend.”

  Chelly looked from me to Kaylee and back, frowning and looking a little panicked. After a long, tense moment, she said, “I don’t. I mean, of course not. Who wants to be tied down? Blech.”

  It wasn’t exactly convincing, but she turned toward her laptop and started banging away at the keys to signal the end of our discussion. I looked at Kaylee again, but she just gave me a shrug and wide-eyed look that said, “I have no idea, either,” so I dropped it.

  “So where are you coming from?” Kaylee asked.

  “The library. Emmie and I gave Dave his birthday presents.”

  “How did he like the guitar?” Kaylee asked.

  “He loved it,” I said. “I got to hear him play and sing, too. He’s really good.”

  “Be careful,” Chelly warned, her regular smirk having returned.

  “What?”

  “Dave singing and playing the guitar? That’s panty remover right there.”

  Kaylee barked out a laugh and then quickly covered her mouth with her hand. “Chelly!”

  I shook my head and turned toward the doorway. “You’re lucky you’re wearing pants,” Chelly said to my back. “If you’d been wearing your kilt, you’d have been in big trouble.”

  I smiled at her over my shoulder as I left, but secretly feared she was probably right.

  ~ ♥ ~

  When I got to the dorm room, Emmie was already in bed, facing the wall. Even for us, it was a bit early.

  “Emmie?” I said quietly, not wanting to wake her if she was already asleep.

  “Yeah?” she said, not moving.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, just really tired.”

  I sat on the edge of her bed, hoping that would make her sit up or at least turn toward me so we could talk face to face.

  No such luck.

  “Are we good?”

  Finally, she did roll over and looked into my eyes. Hers were red-rimmed and a bit swollen, but it was hard to tell if she’d been crying, since exhaustion gave her that same look. “Yeah. We’re good. You two will make a really great couple, Brooklyn. I mean it.” Then she gave me a weak smile.

  I told myself she wanted me to believe her, so I nodded and left it at that.

  Thanksgiving

  I wouldn’t say Rosewood was exactly a ghost town, but since the mass exodus on Wednesday after classes wrapped up at noon, the halls of the school were definitely quieter as those with too far to travel (like me) or whose family was on a world cruise (Emmie) or who technically didn’t have a home (Kaylee) were left behind to celebrate Thanksgiving with our classmates. It felt eerie and kind of sad, but at least we had each other and what promised to be a decent meal, thanks to the dean taking pity on those of us left behind. And, she’d taken pity on the Westwood stragglers, too, having invited them to join us. That surely meant Brady, too, which I wasn’t really looking forward to�
��I’d managed to avoid him in the days since the incident at the cottage. Though I knew he wouldn’t sit with us, so at least I probably wouldn’t have to talk to him.

  But the dean’s generosity also meant Jared and Declan would be joining us, which would be great. Jared was fun to have around and I had to think with Dave having gone home already, there wouldn’t be much awkwardness between us. And to say that Kaylee was excited about having Declan on campus for an extended period of time was the understatement of the year.

  The only string attached was that everyone left at Rosewood had to pitch in and help with dinner, which none of us really minded, even though we weren’t exactly accomplished cooks. Celia would have been a big help, but she was gone for the weekend, so Kaylee, Emmie and I headed down to the kitchen at nine a.m. as instructed and pushed up our figurative sleeves, ready to help. There were a few other students—some that I knew, most that I didn’t from different grades—assembled around the dean who was handing out aprons. We took ours and put them on as we waited for further instruction.

  “Good morning, girls,” she said with a smile. “We have much to do today to prepare our Thanksgiving dinner, but in Rosewood tradition, we will be donating a portion to the local shelter. I need five volunteers to go with me to set up and serve.”

  We’d known the call to volunteer would be coming—thanks to Emmie—and volunteering to serve food at a shelter was way better than cleaning giant pots and pans, so we’d thrown up our hands immediately. Of course, we were all about charity, too.

  Dean Haywood looked around the crowd and settled on the three of us first. “Ms. Somerville, as always, of course. Ms. Prescott, Ms. Bennett.” Then she scanned to the left. “Ms. Vincent and Ms. Thorburn. Thank you all.” She nodded around the crowd and the rest of the hands went down accompanied by some disappointed groans. It seemed a lot of girls would rather serve food than scrub roasting pans.

  “Good,” the dean continued. “Now, we need to start with dressing the turkeys and then the pumpkins for the pies and the...”