“I swear on the Beetle, what gives?”
“They were there at Whiskey Business and got totally psyched out by Yellow Number Five. Duncan couldn’t believe how great the guy you replaced him with played.”
“Really,” I said, trying not to show her how good that made me feel. “I didn’t see them.”
“They didn’t stay long, but they stayed long enough. Guess it’s going really well with the new guy. Duncan misses you and Tanner; he doesn’t get along so great with Kenny.”
Considering the past few times Hannah and I spoke she was trying to subtly wheedle the song from me, I suddenly had the feeling that she wasn’t there for a friendly visit—she wanted something. Or wanted something for Duncan.
“Look, the band broke up, and Grayson is a good fit, so if you’re here to see if Duncan can get back in—”
“I’m not here for Duncan, Jesse.”
“Then what are you here for?” I asked, getting up.
“I’m here for you.”
The words made me pause; a jolt crackled through me when she looked my way, her eyes friendly, warm . . . familiar.
“Don’t say that,” I said. One of the guys from the study group came up for a refill. I walked to the counter to help him, letting her words and her eyes do their number on me.
“We’ll only be about another twenty minutes,” the guy said.
“No worries,” I said, filling his cup with the last of our house blend.
When I turned back, Hannah was sipping her drink, as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb of epic proportions. Maybe her being with Duncan didn’t bother me, but I still felt something for her. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good to hear she was there for me.
We had a history. A mostly nice one. One that I’d counted on until HannahDunk screwed me, or I screwed them, or however it all went down. I was done analyzing. I was done, period. I was still in that zone, though: the no-longer-boyfriend, but-not-ready-to-be-friends zone. I wasn’t sure we could ever be friends—maybe friendly, like bumping into each other on the street or in the Stop N’ Shop one random night years from now, like in a country song or something.
The couple at the window left, and Hannah shot up to clean off their table. I grabbed the counter mop and followed her.
“Hannah, you don’t—”
“I want to, Jesse, come on, you can get out of here quicker,” she said, handing me the dollar the couple had left as a tip and grabbing their mugs. I wiped down the table as she took the cups into the back. When I turned around she had the box of raw sugar packets and began restocking the self-service stand.
“This is what you’re really here for, restocking,” I said. She always said it cleared her mind to refill the self-service stand, like putting each thing in its place gave her a sense of order and calm. It was one of the jobs I hated the most, so I never minded. She tossed a raw sugar packet my way and grinned.
I reached below and handed her the box of stirrers.
“I guess, while you’re at it,” I said, handing them to her.
“You’re right, I like doing this,” she said. She looked at my wrist. “You’re not wearing your infinity bracelet—band—anymore.”
“Why would I be?”
She lifted up her forearm and pulled back her sleeve. The infinity symbol glinted in the light. My stomach dropped.
“I noticed you were wearing yours the last time I came in.”
“Does Duncan know you’re here?”
“I’m not sure Duncan even knows when I’m in the room,” she said, patting down the sugar packets into their compartment.
I turned away, heading into the back room to set up the dishwasher. Whether she was doing this to mess with my head or not, I wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like her to flirt just because. Maybe she wasn’t doing it purposely but I refused to let it get to me.
I thought about Madison. How different it felt to be with her. Everything was up in the air, and unexpected, and I wasn’t ready to let that go. Even if I had no idea where I stood with her.
By the time I returned out front, the study group in the corner was finally calling it quits. The guy who’d come over for the coffee brought some of the cups to the counter for me, and shoved a five into the tip jar.
“Thanks, man.” I followed them to the door. It was five minutes to nine, but I locked the door as they walked out and turned the slate that hung on the door to CLOSED.
Hannah was busy collecting the rest of the dishes from the study table.
“Duncan’s not ignoring you. This battle thing, getting ready for it is pretty intense,” I said, grabbing a bin to put the dishes in. “I’m sure he knows you’re in the room.”
“Did you?”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m just,” she said, putting the cups into the bin. “I don’t know. I miss you, Jesse. Our talks. Duncan doesn’t—”
“I don’t want to hear it. Please. I can’t talk about him, about you together, what don’t you get? You broke up with me.”
“I’m thinking that might have been a mistake.”
A knocking sound got both of our attention.
“We’re closed,” I said, keeping my eyes on Hannah. They knocked again.
Grace would have flipped out if she heard me talk to a potential customer like that, so I took a deep breath and walked toward the door. I saw her hair first, the light blond tufts falling every which way. I quickened my pace, undid the lock, and pushed open the door.
Madison scampered in, chilly air following her. No dark-lined eyes, hair swept back with a headband. She was wearing my jacket, her fingertips hanging out the bottom of the sleeves, making her look so tiny.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
She shook her head, stamped her feet for warmth.
“I, uh,” she began, then looked past me.
“Hi,” Hannah said over my shoulder. I stepped aside.
“Madison, this is Hannah,” I said. Madison’s eyes widened slightly when she recognized the name.
“Hannah, Madison. She’s the one who, um, made my hair this color,” I said, pointing to my head. Fucking brilliant, Jesse.
She smiled at Madison, then looked at me as if she expected me to say something more. I’d seen the recognition in her eyes when she noticed my jacket. Did it bother her? The three of us stood there as the world turned s-l-o-w-l-y. There was no reason for me to feel awkward, but I did.
“What, um, what brings you in?” The words were out of my mouth before I realized how idiotic they sounded. I didn’t care what brought her in—she was there, in front of me. All I wanted was for her to stay.
“I wanted to see you, that’s all. You seem like you’re in the middle of something.” She shuffled back and forth, looking between Hannah and me.
“No, just cleaning up,” I said. “Do you want something? You look freezing. Here, please, sit down.” I pulled out a chair, and reached out a hand to her. She hesitated a moment, but then relented.
“I can make you something if you want. Hot chocolate? Chai?”
“No, everything’s clean, you’re closing,” she said.
“It’s not a problem.”
“Maybe a hot tea,” she said.
“I’ll get it,” Hannah said.
“I’m going to clean that table, and close down, and then we can do whatever you want, okay?” I was talking to her like she was a three-year-old, but I couldn’t help it. She’d come there to see me. I didn’t want her to leave, or change her mind. She nodded.
I raced over to the table and tossed the rest of the dishes into the bin and then ran back to fill the dishwasher. On the way I collected Hannah’s half-finished mocha cup and glanced over my shoulder. Hannah had brought Madison a cup of tea and sat down with her. The sight of the two of them together was surreal.
I finished up with the dishes quickly, turned on the washer for a ten-minute power-wash, and went out to turn off the neon MUGSHOT sign with a click. The girls sat in silence.
“So, um, do you want to hang out?” I asked. Madison shrugged.
“I was going to give Hannah a ride home, we can do whatever after.”
Hannah stood up. “You know, I can walk, it’s fine.”
“No, it’s pretty cold out. You should take the ride,” Madison answered, sipping her tea.
“Let me get my jacket.”
I walked to the back, grabbed my stuff, and made sure everything was set for closing. The last thing I needed to do was set the alarm code for the door. I punched in the numbers and the three of us walked toward the VW. As we reached the car, Madison stepped forward so she could hop into the backseat. I wanted to say something, but what? Get up front? Hannah didn’t do anything to change the situation, either.
By the time we reached Hannah’s, we’d managed to make some small talk about the Battle of the Bands. I put the car in park and waited.
Hannah turned in her seat toward the back. “Nice to meet you, Madison.”
“Yes, nice meeting you too.”
Hannah leaned closer to me. “Bye, Jess, see you at the battle.”
She kissed me on the cheek, paused a minute, and whispered, “Bye” again before getting out of the car. We waited until she was on the porch and in the house. Madison remained in her seat.
“Why don’t you sit up here?”
“Do you want me to?” she asked.
“Do you have to ask?”
“So, that was Hannah. Hannah-Hannah.”
“Yes.”
She climbed over the console.
“Hold this.” She handed me the tea so she could flop down properly into the seat. Once she was buckled in, she took the cup.
“She just, I don’t know, stopped by to say hello.” I shifted gears and puttered off down the street. It felt weird to drive by my house without stopping.
“I don’t think she was there to say hello,” she said.
“Where do you want to go?” I asked.
“Home,” she said.
“Sure?”
“It felt like I was interrupting something.”
“You interrupted me cleaning up.”
“She’s pretty, Jesse.”
We stopped at a light. The car stalled as I tried to shift into first when the signal turned green. Complete brain fart. It rolled a bit until I gained control, and sputtered to life. I cracked my neck, trying to shake off the direction Madison was leading the conversation toward. Neither of us said another word until we reached her house. I parked in front of her driveway and turned off the engine.
“Tha—”
“You came to see me tonight. Why?” I asked.
She blinked, then pointed to her tea.
I grumbled. “You’re lying.”
“Jesse.”
“Why are you acting like everything’s okay? If something’s bothering you, just talk to me. I called you twice, texted you, what, maybe a hundred times—”
“Don’t exaggerate,” she said.
“You came looking for me.”
She pressed her lips together and turned her face away. Were we fighting? Why? I didn’t want to argue with her. I wanted to make her laugh, kiss her; what could have happened to make her change in three days?
“It made my night,” I added.
The side of her mouth rose slightly, but then she was all business. “I don’t know, I just—I know I haven’t—well, you called, and I didn’t call you back. I’m sorry about that. I’m in a weird place right now, Jess. I had a huge blowout with my mom after you left last Sunday. And Paul is leaving, taking a job out in California, and I wanted something to be normal, for us to be okay, but I really don’t know if I can do this.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, get attached to someone who’s obviously confused.”
“I’m—me? You think I’m confused?”
“I know you said you were over Hannah, but—”
“I had no idea she was coming to the shop tonight. I don’t know what she was doing there.”
“It was pretty obvious.” She took a sip of tea, then put the cup in her lap, tracing the rim with her thumb. “She kissed you before she got out of the car—you don’t do that if you don’t care.”
“Madison.” I reached over, took the cup out of her hand, and placed it in the holder. She looked at me. I traced the outline of her face, the way I had in her room, and touched my mouth to hers. She was rigid at first, but then she softened, lips parting so her tongue could meet mine. I wanted the kiss to say all the things I couldn’t put into words. To erase anything that she thought she saw at Mugshot. Her kisses got stronger, more insistent, her fingers in my hair, on my shoulders. She pushed me back.
“Hey.” I laughed.
She kept her eyes on me and slipped out of her jacket—my jacket—and tossed it over the seat, then climbed over the console and straddled me.
“Doesn’t this go back?” She reached along the seat to the handle and gave it a pull. With our weight, the seat reclined almost horizontally in one swift motion. She unzipped my hoodie, then put her elbows on either side of me, pressing against me while she did that thing with her tongue—tracing my mouth—which was so brain-frying-hot I could barely move.
It felt so amazing, having her there on top of me, that rational thought disappeared. Mugshot, Hannah, Battle of the Bands, all evaporated with the heat of her mouth as we kissed. My hands found her hips, the fabric of her yoga pants so thin, her body so warm. She rocked back and forth, gently pushing against me. A million different nerve endings exploded inside of me, but something was off.
I turned my face to the side.
“Hey,” I whispered.
“What?” She kissed my cheek, my jaw, her tongue trailed along my neck, stopping below my ear. I opened my mouth to speak, but forgot what I was going to say, closing my eyes as she nipped my earlobe. She unbuttoned my jeans, her fingers slipping under the band of my boxers. She nuzzled my nose with hers, kissing me again.
“Madison,” I said between kisses. I caught her wrist before she could take it any further.
“Don’t you want this?”
“Yes, I do, but not in my car, in front of your house.”
“C’mon, the thrill of getting caught is hot,” she said, kissing me again.
I gently shifted her away. “You seem pissed off.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Are you?”
“Now I am,” she growled, pushing herself off me and sliding clumsily back into the passenger seat. I adjusted the seat upright. My heart thrummed in my ears. I ran a hand through my hair, forcing my breathing to return to normal.
“Maybe you can’t do this because you still have feelings for Hannah.”
“Are you trying to pick a fight with me?”
“No, but . . . What if I hadn’t stopped by and you ended up driving her home, alone? Would you be doing this in front of her house?”
I banged my head back on the seat cushion, then turned my face to her. “Christ, Madison, I don’t have feelings for her. Not the way you think. I’m here. Next to you. I don’t know what more I can do. If you don’t feel the same way, or whatever it is you’re trying to say, fine, but don’t tell me how I feel.”
“Fine, whatever.” She got out of the car and slammed the door.
“Madison.”
She was halfway up the stairs, but turned around and stomped back down, opening the door.
“I’m—”
“I forgot my keys.” She grabbed my jacket and fished her hand inside the pocket. As she pulled out her keys a cascade of change and other crap came tumbling out. She looked at the seat littered with stuff, then at me. Her brow furrowed and she dropped the jacket, leaving again. I got out of the car and stood up, realized that my pants were still unbuttoned.
“Madison, wait, come on.”
“Go home, Jesse.” She disappeared into her house.
What.
The.
Hell.
J
ust happened?
My blood still raced as I slid back into the driver’s seat. I tossed my jacket in the back, picking up the random change and shoving it in my hoodie pocket. There was a guitar pick, and a napkin with numbers on it. Huh? I laid it flat on the dash and turned on the interior light. Becca. Those girls from Whiskey Business. Had Madison seen this too?
Fuhhhhhhhhhhhhck.
How could she even think this meant anything? The song I’d been writing, her song, buzzed through my head again. Bits of words again right there for the taking. I reached into the backseat, dug around my backpack for my song notebook. No pen. I sighed, looked up at her house, debating whether to ring her doorbell and insist we talk.
No.
There was no clearing this up right now, she had to cool off. Whatever it was she was going through, she didn’t need me in her face. I started up the Bug and drove home, playing the song over and over in my head, eager once again to pick up my guitar. This song meant so much to me, now more than ever.
I needed to get it out of my head.
For her.
TWENTY-THREE
MADISON
“CONSIDER THIS A YOGA-VENTION, YOU NEED TO go.” Wren tugged on my foot.
“You can’t miss my first class,” Jazz said.
They both flopped down on the foot of my bed while I put a pillow over my head and screamed into it. It was forty-five minutes before class started and I had no interest in finding inner peace, no matter how bad I needed it. I’d broken the cold-shoulder routine with my mother and begged her to let me take a mental-health day from school—from life, really. Playing the I-just-found-out-who-my-father-is-and-he’s-leaving card might have been a bit dirty, but she’d agreed on the condition that I put my portfolio together and attended yoga class that night, since it would be her first time assisting and she needed the moral support.
I’d finished my portfolio, but I was waffling on the class, which had more to do with being in the vicinity of Mugshot than anything else. I sat up and pleaded my case again.
“I don’t know myself anymore. Why would I angry-kiss Jesse and pick a fight? I can’t be trusted to be within ten miles of the boy.”
“C’mon, Mads, you’re going through an insane amount of stuff, you’re allowed to act a little crazy. And angry-kissing is kind of hot. I’m sure he got over it,” Jazz said.
The Secrets of Attraction Page 24
