by Ruth Houston
We had barely touched lips – in fact, did it even constitute as a kiss? – but I still could not remember how to breathe correctly. When was the last time anyone had affected me so deeply with a kiss? Uh, try never. I couldn't get a coherent thought to register in my brain.
When a full thought did manage to make itself known, I said, "God, Winter, tell me now that you weren't sorry we just – just…" I couldn't finish it.
"…Kissed?" she suggested.
I could only nod mutely.
"No," she said, "I'm not sorry if you're not."
"I am definitely not sorry," I murmured, nearly moaning at the want of having her lips back on mine. But I would wait for now.
She blushed. "I'm glad," she said quietly, cheeks flaming. "Though your father probably isn't."
"Oh, god," I groaned. "How am I going to face them again after this? Dinner! And you're staying!"
"I can go home," she said, alarmed.
"No, don't," I said immediately.
Quiet descended between the two of us.
"Zack?" she whispered after a moment, sounding almost afraid to ask.
"Yeah," I murmured against the skin of her neck.
A pause, then, "What did it mean?"
I closed my eyes. "I'm sorry Winter," I said, "But I honestly don't know."
She sighed lightly. "Me neither."
There was another pause.
"Zack?" I could detect a frown in her voice this time.
"Mmm."
"What about Eva?"
I lifted my head, gazing into her worried dark chocolate eyes. "Eva who?" I grinned. Because that was how I felt. Winter had managed to sweep her blue-eyed blonde-haired best friend clean from my mind.
"God, you're terrible," Winter groaned, slugging me on the shoulder gently but smiling slightly. I rolled off her and onto my side while she stayed where she was on her back. I propped up my elbow and rested my head on my hand, looking down at her.
"When's dinner?" she said, settling into my bed more comfortably. "Wow, your pillow's comfortable. I like it."
"Dinner's in forty-five minutes or so." It was only 5:15.
Winter blinked and voiced what I had been thinking: "What are we going to do with ourselves in 45 minutes?"
'Well, I can think of a few things…' I thought. Aaugh, no! Naughty Zack.
Winter guessed what I was thinking, again, but took it as a joke. "Oh god, you are so perverted," she muttered when I winked at her. I chuckled.
"I was just kidding," I said. "What can we do with ourselves in 45 minutes?"
We ended up just laying there on my bed in my dark room, talking. Talking about everything and nothing. Somehow, conversing with Winter was different than talking with anyone else. Maybe it was because she actually took me seriously, or maybe it was because she always really listened to what I had to say when I was being honest, or maybe it was because the way we talked with each other in quiet voices like we were the only two people in the world and we were sharing something very private made something in my stomach flip every so often, but I found myself opening up to her, just like that night when I had told her about my parents. I could remember everything we discussed clearly even though it was all about little things, which was new for me, because usually when I talked with people I had a tendency to zone out on them. Space Cadet Zack, that's me.
We were halfway through our topic of books (she was telling me that she liked the Harry Potter ones, much to my amusement), when a knock sounded at my door.
"Zack? Winter?" came Victoria's muffled voice. "It's dinner."
"Alright, we'll be right there," I called to her. Winter and I listened to her retreating footsteps.
For a moment, we openly gazed at each other. Winter cocked her head to the side and another secret smile graced her lips.
"What?" I whispered, finding a smile crossing my own features.
She shook her head slightly. "Nothing," she said quietly, avoiding my eyes and focusing on a spot on my chest. The half-smile still lingered.
"Tell me?" I murmured.
Her smile grew and her eyes met mine again through the darkness of the room, studying my face. She shook her head again. "Maybe some other time. We have to go downstairs now."
"Oh, no," I groaned. "That's right. Aww, do we have to go?" I mock-whined.
"Yes," she said firmly, though her eyes were sparkling. "We must."
"Nope," I said resolutely. "There's no way I'm sharing you. You gotta stay here. Sorry." I rolled back on top of her, and though she tried to move out of the way, she wasn't fast enough. "I'm keeping you all to myself," I whispered in her ear.
She laughed. "C'mon you big joker," she whispered back, her lips just barely grazing my ear. Suddenly I couldn't breathe again. "Let's go down and meet the parents. Take two."
"Oh, shit," I muttered expressively, remembering again. She didn't know how true her words were. It really was going to be Meet the Parents, with capital letters.
xxxxx
We made it half-way through the meal before my dad started interrogating her.
"So, Winter," he said. I scowled at him discreetly. "How did you and Zack meet?"
"Well," she started slowly. "We go to the same high school, and I've known him since middle school."
"And how long have you and Zack been…seeing each other?"
She blinked and stole a glance at me. She was confused; I could tell because she automatically brought up and hand and rubbed the spot just above her eyebrow. "Uhm…well, we've known each other since middle school," she repeated, perhaps thinking he hadn't heard the first time. No luck there. My dad had perfect hearing.
'Good answer,' I thought, 'But not the one he's looking for.'
"I see," my father said.
"What I think my husband means is," my mom laughed, "How long have you been dating?"
Winter's mouth formed a small O, and she looked at me. She cleared her throat and took a sip of her water.
"Uhm," she said, swallowing. She looked at me again and I groaned softly to myself. Realization dawned on her face and I could tell she was smirking to herself even though no one else at the table could tell. "We've been dating for a while. A couple months, maybe? Yeah, pretty much since the beginning of the school year."
It was scary how convincing a liar she was.
"Hmm, I see," my mother said, her eyes sparkling and an uncontained smile on her face. "And has he ever taken you out?"
"Oh, well we hang out a lot," Winter said, shrugging a little. She was really getting into this. "But he did take me to homecoming, which was pretty nice."
My mother's smile grew wider and I knew she was going to take over this Spanish Inquisition. I furiously berated myself for letting such a lie start in the first place. I was ne-ver going to live this down.
"That's wonderful. Did you take pictures?"
"Er, no, unfortunately," Winter said, smiling wistfully. This girl could get an Oscar if she wanted to. "The line was too long so we decided to skip that part." She even had a bit of a regretful expression on her face.
My mom continued to ask her questions through to the end of the meal, and by dessert Winter was hard pressed to keep her laughter in check. I could tell because her mouth was gradually becoming a straighter and straighter line, and she was gripping her napkin very tightly in her lap. Alright, let me reassess the situation – Winter is never going to let me live this down.
Afterwards we all walked her to the door.
"It was very nice to meet you again, Mr. and Mrs. Crowne," Winter said, gasping almost inaudibly and clutching her stomach a little.
"Are you alright?" my father frowned.
Suddenly she couldn't hold it in anymore and broke out into a huge smile. "I'm f-fine," she said, coughing a little to cover up a wayward giggle. "Thank you so much for dinner. It was absolutely lovely."
"I'll drive you home," I broke into the conversation smoothly. "I'll be back in twenty minutes. Bye, everyone."
With that I pulled her out of th
e house and closed the door behind me. I clamped a hand over her mouth but it was no use. She nearly broke out into hysterics.
"Oh my god!" she shrieked, laughing even harder than when I had tickled her earlier. I scowled.
She was doubled up, clutching her side and leaning against the driver's door of her dad's car. "Oh my god," she kept saying, and pounding the roof of the car with her fist.
"Hey, stop it, don't damage the car," I frowned.
"Zack." She was laughing so hard she couldn't get a full sentence out. "Your parents…" There were tears of mirth sparkling in her eyes. "…are lovely," she choked out, "And…" She shrieked in delight. "I would be so happy to meet them again… on the evening… hahahahahahaHA…of our engagement announcement."
"Are you quite done?" I said haughtily. This wasn't very funny to me.
She breathed in a couple times through her nose. "I'm sorry Zack," she said, still giggling a little and not sounding very sorry at all, "It's just…you should have seen your face when your mother suggested we were…" She chuckled again. "…going out. Dating. I just couldn't resist the temptation."
Grumpily, I thought in passing that maybe it was good she hadn't been able to resist the temptation, because otherwise I would have been busted for my little not so white lie.
I sighed. "It's okay," I said, inadvertently grinning a little also. I watched as she fished around in her pocket for her keys. "I'll follow you home in my own car. Now you can prove to me that you're that oh so great driver."
"I will," Winter was still laughing quietly. "Let's go."
Chapter 20: Just Worse and Worse
Winter
"Abercrombie smells like money," Eva declared.
"I beg your pardon?" I said into the phone absently, flipping through one of her Seventeen magazines that I had borrowed five months previously but had never found the time to look at.
It was roughly five days after the episode of The Announcement, with a capital T and A. Thanksgiving had passed uneventfully and was not really worth mentioning except that this year Caroline's Pies had outdone itself and the apple pie was the best I'd ever experienced. I made a mental note to always get a pie from there for every holiday from now on – apparently the passing of a holiday was so joyful that the bakers must have celebrated by adding a special something into their pies. When my mother saw my blissful expression on my first bite, she had commented that perhaps they had added, quite specifically, a special alcoholic something.
Now it was the weekend and today was a special day again – it was Eva's 16th birthday. I had spent all of yesterday (Saturday) at her house, and had left at around 11 this morning to go home. Glancing at the clock on my bedside stand, it looked like it was about 2:30 in the afternoon now – and we were on the phone again.
"Abercrombie smells like money," Eva repeated her earlier thought. "It does, seriously."
Her cousin who lived in Chicago had sent her a gift from Abercrombie and Fitch this year. I had watched Eva open it, along with the blank, uncomprehending expression that had crossed her face as she stared at the tiny spaghetti-strap-lace-trimmed-top. Unfortunately, her cousin had not seen Eva in a couple of years and had underestimated Eva's height and ability to grow an inch every time I'm not looking (which is completely unfair, let me tell you; I am vertically challenged enough as it is to be compared to her). Fortunately, there was a gift receipt.
"Well, of course," I said dismissively to her statement. "A & F is expensive, of course it smells like money."
"No," said Eva, "It really smells like money. The clothes do. At first I thought it was just the cologne from their store, you know, I think they spray it over everything, but then I took another whiff and it turns out that their clothes smell like money. Or maybe the cologne smells like money. One of those."
"Why were you sniffing it in the first place?" I asked incredulously, my eyebrows lifting up of their own accord.
"I didn't even have to put my face that close to smell it; it was pretty strong. I'm bored. Why'd you have to leave so early?" she complained.
I sighed. "My mom wanted me home for lunch, for some reason or another. I think it's 'cause she made those turkey sandwiches again." I wrinkled my nose. "They aren't that great. Okay, so maybe the meat is from Draeger's, which is more 'gourmet' than Safeway, but really, I don't taste a difference."
"Will you come with me to exchange it?" Eva asked, plowing onwards. She was still on about that Abercrombie top. "I don't want to go alone."
"Well, I guess I'll go with you. Cuz I know if I were you, I'd be begging me to go with too."
"Thanks," Eva said. "Oh yeah. Did I ever thank you for coming over that day with Zack?"
Zack. The first thought that popped into my head when she said his name was of that moment on his bed, after he had nearly tickled me to death…
I closed my eyes and sighed. Eva would want to know, but the kiss was too private, too perfect, too wonderful, too pure and chaste to be shared. Just thinking about it made me tingle all over, and unconsciously I brought my hand up to my lips. The lips that Zack had touched with his own… I hadn't missed the way he had been trembling afterwards, and it kept bringing an uncontrollable, wide smile to my face.
"Winter? You still there? ...Winter? WINTER. Talk to me. You better not have hung up on me; I will kill you with the machete that I hide under my bed. WINTER BRUIN, YOU SAY SOMETHING THIS INSTANT!"
Oops.
"Uh…" was my highly intelligent response. "Sorry. Here. I mean, I'm here. Present."
Eva sighed. "What happened?"
"Sorry, zoned out for a second there. Oh. And you're welcome. Anytime."
"Thanks again anyway," Eva said. "It was really great of you guys. By the way, Tristan's in love."
I choked. She had said it as if she was merely announcing the weather. Coughing, I managed to get out, "Eva, you have got to stop springing that kind of stuff on me. It's really not very kind of you."
"Winter, you have got to get rid of that habit of choking every time I tell you something," Eva chided. "It's too melodramatic. And it's not very charming."
"Tristan's…in love?" I said, disregarding her comment. I had lived with her long enough to know that those kinds of Eva-comments were simple musings that did not necessitate a reply.
"Yup," Eva said happily. "You can expect a wedding invite the summer after he finishes college."
"In love with who?" I said.
"Oh, gee… I'm not sure."
I snorted.
"That's not very attractive either, Winter."
"You don't know who he's in love with, but you know he's completely whipped over some girl," I said dryly. "Try to give me a name, Ev. Please. Humor me."
"I really don't know who it is, I'm not kidding," my best friend replied. "But I can tell he's totally fallen. I think she works at Payne's too. Because every time he gets back from work he has this strange, happy expression on his face."
I snickered. "Strange and happy?"
"Yeah," Eva said. "Come by any time. You'll see."
So I did.
And, lo and behold, Eva was right.
As always. She only has a 4.33 grade point average. Quite impressive, I know.
But, the point is, she was right. Tristan was in love.
Zack
Ever since that day I had done a Chopin marathon, I'd been playing the piano more and more – almost every day now. My mother and Victoria looked on with quiet, hidden smiles, while my father grumbled under his breath. I found that he did that a lot and I resolved I would never do it again in the future lest I turn into a cold-hearted, rich bastard like him.
So that was why that weekend after Thanksgiving Victoria found me in the foyer on Sunday afternoon, perfecting and nit-picking through the first of Liszt's very complicated Grand Concert Etudes, Waldesrauschen, which translated into Forest Murmurs in English. I was being picky today and wanted to fix all my faulty passages through the difficult piece. Secretly I wanted to play it for Winter becau
se I knew she'd love the poetic title and beautiful melody, but I also knew in my heart of hearts that I'd never muster up the courage to. Not live, anyway. Perhaps I'd make a recording of it for her for Christmas.
Anyway, Victoria interrupted my slow run through of the seventh page, which was unquestionably the hardest section, saying, "Zack, your father would like to see you in his study."
I halted halfway between an A and G sharp octave, then continued, saying distractedly, "Can't it wait? I'm kind of in the middle of something."
"No."
Victoria's sharp tone made me stop.
"I think it's important," she continued on hurriedly. For once her face was completely serious and grave and void of her normal pleasant smile. "You'd do well to go."
I frowned and got up from my bench, and said, "Okay."
Moments later I found myself knocking on the door of my father's private study, then pushing it open when he called from inside, "Come in."
I entered carefully.
"Zackary," he nodded. "Please, have a seat." He indicated toward the leather chair in front of his desk and I sat down suspiciously.
"You wanted to see me?" I prompted. This had better be fast.
"Yes," he said, rolling up the sleeves of his Giorgio Armani business shirt and sitting back in his own chair. He rested his elbows on the arms of it and laced his fingers together, looking at me over the top of his reading glasses. "I did. It's concerning the matter of where you shall finish high school."
I looked at him blankly, not comprehending. "I'm finishing school at Branner High," I said slowly.
He nodded, taking off his glasses and saying, "The thing is, I don't think you will be."
I gripped the arm of my chair suddenly, a twisting feeling entering my stomach. "What do you mean?" I asked cautiously. Somehow, I had an idea just where this was going. And I didn't like it.
"What I mean is," he said, polishing his already clean lenses with a cloth, "Your mother and I are staying until the end of your fall semester. At the end of this semester, you will be coming back to Italy with us. We've enrolled you in an American boarding school there. It's quite good – top notch, really." He looked at me expectantly, awaiting my reaction.
