Forever Kinda Love

by Clara Stone

  “Even the blind can feel he’s a good-looking guy.”

  “Super, sizzling-off-the-pages hot.”

  A blast of heat attacks my body. “I didn’t say—”

  “Question four: how many times have you snuck off to meet with him?”

  “I don’t have to sneak out,” I respond.

  “Gotcha.” She winks. “Too many times to count,” she says, ticking a box.

  “Again, I didn’t say that.”

  “To-mai-to. To-mah-to,” she says, like that answers my protest. “Question five: do you ever dream of him?”

  My cheeks burn and I’m certain I look like the scorching sun. I don’t have dirty dreams about Heath, but for the past few weeks, he may have starred opposite me . . . kissing me.

  “Well, well, well. Isn’t that an interesting answer?” She mumbles something under her breath and scribbles.

  “I didn’t say anything,” I huff. “If you’re just gonna start putting words in my mouth . . . er . . . you know what I mean, then why even bother asking the questions?”

  “Because it’s fun to see your reaction. But, since you aren’t interested in answering, let me just get through the rest of these.”

  “Right. Okay. While you’re doing that, I’m gonna get through my calculus homework.”

  She doesn’t respond, but I can tell she’s getting really into the survey. The skin between her perfectly shaped eyebrows forms a V.

  Opening my calculus textbook, I turn to chapter twenty-two and look at the problem before me:

  It seems pretty simple. Ms. Winters went over a similar problem in class. Come to think of it, I think it was this exact problem. So I get to work, reciting the words in my head:

  “When finding the derivative of an integral, simply plug in the variable, X, and multiply the entire function by the derivative of that variable.”

  Just as I put in the final pieces to the problem, my phone dings.

  Vincent: There’s this killer burger joint . . .

  Me: Oh, yeah?

  Vincent: U should try it out sometime.

  Me: What’s so great about it?

  Vincent: U’ll have to see for urslf.

  I smile.

  Vincent: Maybe this Friday? 7 pm?

  Me: I could use some alone time.

  Vincent: Well, seeing how I told u about it, it’s only fair that I join u & pay 4 the food ;)

  My smile turns into a grin, and I tap in a response, feeling mighty brazen.

  “Why are you smiling like a cat on weed?” Emily’s words cut through my flirty mood.

  My phone dings in less than five seconds.

  Vincent: It’s a date then.

  “No reason.” I tuck my phone under my right leg and get back to my homework.

  “So, you’re totally in love with your best friend, and you guys will get married, and have a litter of little Heaths and Aces running around less than two years after that.”

  I chuckle and turn around. “Wow! Heath and I work fast.”

  “No rest for the horny.” She shrugs. “Now, let’s see what this says about me and Ro—”

  My ears perk up. Her sudden pause tells me she didn’t mean to say that last part out loud.

  “Who’s Ro?”

  “Nobody.”

  “Bullshit!” Oh, this is so worth missing homework for. I shut the book and slide into the space next to her.

  “It’s none of your damn business,” she snaps.

  I rub my hands together. I can’t help it. She hasn’t been this way with anyone since Johnny, the boy with Mario Lopez dimples and Zac Efron hair who was in our horse-riding class. So, I’m beyond curious at this point. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll just have to guess.”

  She rolls her eyes. “You’re such a nosy bitch.”

  “I wouldn’t be if you’d just tell me, you double-standard, secret-keeping . . .”

  The corners of her eyes twitch like she’s trying to suppress a smile. That’s when it hits me. “Oh my GOD! You’re seeing someone! You . . . you have to tell me who it is!”

  She looks up, her brilliant blue eyes shining like diamonds, and nods. “I must.”

  I hold my breath.

  “But I won’t. Now, do you want to know what my future’s looking like with my mystery man?”

  “You’re such a . . . !” Seeing the determination in her eyes, I know that no amount of persuasion will get me the name. I sigh heavily. “Let’s see what Ms. Bitchy and Mr. Faceless Ro-land’s future holds.”

  She laughs. “His name isn’t Roland.”

  And just like that, I know she’s gonna make me work for the name. Hopefully, I’ll guess it before she loses interest, or cuts him loose because he’s “flawed” on her weed-through-bullshit-guy list.

  “Roy?” I mouth off all the names I can think of that start with the “Ro” sound, and then some. With each guess, I’m starting to wonder if she’ll admit his name even if I stumble on the correct one.

  Around ten p.m., my phone dings again as I walk out of the shower, a towel wrapped around my body.

  Heath: Sup?

  Me: Definitely not my brain.

  Heath: Don’t tell me you spent the night with Calc again?

  Me: I didn’t spend the night with Calc. ;)

  Heath: Smartass.

  Me: Took you long enough.

  Heath: So . . .

  Me: So . . .

  I wait. A minute passes and nothing. So I take the opportunity to change into my nightclothes. Just as I slip into bed, my phone dings.

  Heath: Free Friday night?

  My heart hammers against my chest and a pang of guilt creeps its way from the pit of my stomach to my throat.

  Me: I have a life, you know. *smiles*

  Heath: *takes smile and puts it in pocket* U hanging out with Em?

  Heath: Cuz if you are, she’s hanging out w/me.

  I sink under my covers like I’m hiding from him.

  Heath: Hello? *kills a cricket*

  Me: Don’t injure animals on my behalf.

  Heath: So, we good for Friday?

  Me: No, have plans.

  Me: w/Vincent.

  I don’t hear back from him.

  FRIDAY NIGHT CAME SOONER than I expected. And I’m sweaty, and smelly, and pissed off as hell. Sure, we just had one of our best games this season, but at the end of it, Ace hadn’t hung around to celebrate the win. I’d watched her pack her stuff into her cheer bag and run off toward the parking lot before I’d even made it to where Lisa stood.

  I don’t like the idea of us being so distant. Fights between us are rare. But these days, we both seem to get pissy about everything—me, more so than her.

  I peel off my uniform and equipment, and hit the showers. I need to fix this; I’m getting restless. I drop my head under the steaming water and feel my muscles unwind. Ace’s huge gray eyes flash behind my closed lids.

  I need to fix this. Whatever the hell’s going on with my head, it needs to stop right now.

  “Dude, I just got a number from some college chick with tits big enough to have a state of their own,” Jason says, making a crude, squeezing gesture with his hands.

  I ignore him, scrubbing myself faster.

  “What the hell are you in a hurry for?” he goads.

  I let the suds wash off my body and down the drain. “None of your business, douchetard.”

  He chuckles. “Getting laid tonight?”

  I pause as realization dawns on me. Shit! Tonight’s Ace’s date with Vincent. How did I forget that? No wonder she left in such a hurry. She’s hurrying to get dressed up and ready for him. I smack myself in the head—mentally.

  Well, fuck the plan. Tonight, I’m getting hammered.

  “You got it,” I fire back at Jason. “Let the fucking party begin!” I holler, getting enthused responses from my teammates. I shut off the shower and wrap a towel low around my hips.

  “Don’t let him get to you, Ice.” Troy offers his two cents.

  Th
ere are only a handful of guys on the team I can stand, and Troy is definitely one of them. I might even go as far as calling him a close friend.

  I give him a sideways-five. “I never let idiots get to me,” I say and disappear into the locker room to change.

  A few minutes later, I’m shoving my feet into my shoes and tying them up, humming the song Ace does when she ties hers, even to this day:

  Criss Cross dive under the bridge

  Then you gotta pull it tight

  Make a loop but keep a long tail

  That is how you do it right

  Then take the other string

  and wrap it ‘round the loop

  Pull it through the hole

  Now you got the scoop

  “What are you singing?” I ask Ace.

  She shrugs her small shoulders, her fingers fiddling with the pink shoelace. “It’s a song my mom sang to help me tie my shoes.”

  “You don’t know how to tie your shoes?” I tease her with a smug smile.

  She looks up through her lashes, her eyes sparkling. “No, silly. It’s to help me keep her alive in here, and here,” she says, tapping first at her temple, then her heart. “She makes me happy, even if it’s just a memory. Don’t you have any memories of your mom?”

  Tight knots coil inside my chest. I’ve watched Ace repeatedly do things that kept her mom alive—things like this. I’m both jealous and sad. The only memories I have of my mom came from what others told me. “No,” I respond.

  She smiles, throwing her arm around my shoulders, standing on her toes to reach them. “It’s okay. We’re best friends—what’s mine is yours, right? Isn’t that what we spit swore? I have enough memories that I can share with you.” Then she starts singing that song, teaching me the way her mom had taught her.

  I see Jason walk into the locker room from the corner of my eye and ignore him. Troy’s right. I shouldn’t let Jason push my buttons so easily.

  “So, are you joining us for the after-party, or will you be three-waying with your girlfriend?”

  I grind my teeth. “First of all, Lisa isn’t my girlfriend.”

  “If you bang it, you own it.” He drops his towel, and I turn away. “Besides, it’s Ace I’m referring to.”

  A muscle in my jaw pops. If he doesn’t shut up, I’m going to get into a damn fight. And I don’t fucking care if he’s buck-ass naked. “Fuck off, Jason. I swear to God—”

  He smirks. “Be careful, lover boy, or you’ll never find out where your unofficial fuck-buddy is headed tonight.”

  Adrenaline builds, and my hands turn into white-knuckled fists. Before I know it, Troy and Eric are pulling me back, away from Jason’s bleeding nose.

  “Don’t you ever . . .” I surge forward. The guys struggle to hold me back as the asshole laughs in my face. “Call Ace that again, or I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.”

  Jason isn’t fazed. It’s like I’m talking to a damn rock.

  “Cut that shit out, man. I know you’re dying to know where she is.”

  Breathing through my nose, I count to three, forcing myself to calm down. I want to punch the daylights out of him, but I’ve already made a mountain out of a molehill, and it’ll be Ace’s reputation that’s on the line. Fuck Jason and his big-ass mouth.

  “I really don’t care,” I respond coolly, shrugging off the two guys holding me back.

  They look at each other before easing their grip. But they stay close, alert, like I’m a wild animal ready to pounce on my prey.

  Jason arches his brow. “Even if you know she’s out with that tattooed playboy?”

  My heart comes to a screeching stop. I knew this. She texted me about it a few nights ago. But even so, hearing it out loud makes it so much more real.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Jason says.

  I punch him in the gut, holding back just enough juice so that he’s hurt, but not completely useless. “You stay the hell away from her, Jason, you hear me? This is your final warning.”

  Since the day we met, I’ve promised myself that I would protect Ace, and it’s become ingrained in me. There isn’t a single person I wouldn’t cross to keep her safe. But what about these overwhelming emotions boiling inside me? How in the fucking world do I protect her from me?

  I run out of the locker room, heading toward the parking lot, and hear Lisa call my name.

  Shit.

  “Where you off to, Iceman?” she asks as she prances her way over to me, her usual groupies trailing behind her.

  I sigh. “You still up to celebrate?” Trying to get rid of her will take a lot more work than just bringing her along.

  She raises her brow questioningly, like, “Did I even need to ask?”

  “Good,” I say and pull her hand into mine. “Let’s go.”

  I call Martha, our housekeeper, and let her know about the impromptu party heading her way. My brothers and I have done this a time or two over the past decade, so she’s used to the drill. Forty minutes later, I’m parked in front of the guesthouse, ready to get shit-faced.

  More than a dozen people are lingering outside as music blasts through the air. Helping Lisa out of the Jeep, I lead her toward the entrance. Walking over the threshold, I notice there are more people than I’d anticipated. How the hell did they all get here before me?

  We make our way through the sea of bodies, each congratulating me on our win. As we reach the kitchen, Lisa tugs at my hand. I turn toward her, and she catches me off guard, pulling my head down and kissing me wildly. Her tongue pushes in when I don’t respond immediately. Forcing aside my thoughts of Ace, I let my hormones take over. I shove Lisa against the wall, more aggressive than I’ve ever been, and grind myself into her lower body, my hands barricading her. Wet, sloppy teeth and lips clash against one another. When someone bumps into me, I let go of her lips and look over my shoulder, glaring.

  “Come on,” Lisa says, her hand slipping into mine. A lazy grin plasters over her face. “Let’s go have some fun.”

  She leads me through the gyrating pool of bodies and half-drunken high schoolers to the kitchen. Rooting around in the liquor cabinet, she pulls out a forty-year-old scotch. I grab two shot glasses, and Lisa carefully pours the liquid into them.

  “Bottom’s up,” I say and down it without a second thought. Then another, and another, and another.

  Lisa drags me out back and shoves me into a lawn chair, straddling me. My hands land on her thighs, and I lick my lips, staring at her chest. A devilish smile crosses her lips, and she attacks my mouth. The buzzing inside my head gets louder, and my hands grab plush, soft body. Just as I’m losing myself, a flash of gray eyes and sexy, plump pink lips flash behind my closed lids, and my entire being freezes.

  I shoot up to my feet—a scream, followed by a thud, sounds. I blink. My eyes settle on the girl on the ground.

  The face blurs in and out. Blonde hair, gray eyes, and . . .

  “Heath.” Ace’s sweet smile comes into focus.

  What the fuck?

  “HOW DID YOU KNOW? I love this place!” We’re standing in line for the best burger joint in a fifty mile radius.

  “You do?” Vincent asks, clearly surprised, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

  “Heath and I come here a lot,” I say, bouncing on the balls of my feet.

  Although I’m not much for junk food, I make an exception for this place. The Bob’s Burgers truck is walking distance from the beach, and has been a favorite of Heath’s and mine for years. We used to come here so often, we may as well have fifty percent ownership of the place. Lord knows, we’ve spent enough money.

  It’s that good.

  “You sure know how to show a girl a good time!” I say, nudging Vincent’s shoulder with mine.

  He tilts his head down, a teasing half-smile curving his lips. “Thank God for small miracles.”

  I shake my head. “No, really. First dancing, now my favorite food joint in the world?” The person in front of me steps aside, and I all but throw m
yself forward to place my order. “Hi, Jorge!”

  “Hey, sweet cheeks. The usual?” he asks.

  I nod. Vincent steps into view. “If you’re done flirting with my date, I’ll take two cheeseburgers with extra cheese, jalapenos, and mayo. Add an extra-large curly fries, and drench them with cheese too, will ya?” Then he fist bumps Jorge like he’s known him his entire life, which is kind of impossible, since they’re nearly three decades apart.

  But, then again, I’ve seen weirder things.

  By the time Vincent is done chatting and paying for our food, our order is ready. We pick it up and slide into a table without shade. I sure could use some tan on my vanilla skin. I don’t stop the smile that sneaks its way onto my lips. Tonight has been full of them.

  “You planning on eating all that?” I ask.

  He shrugs, then points to my own portion fit for two, or perhaps four skinny cheerleaders. “You planning on eating all that?”

  I shrug. “A girl’s gotta eat.”

  He chuckles. “Damn. Where have you been all my life?”

  Feeling a bit bold and flirty, I respond, “Apparently, waiting for you to commit whatever felony landed you at Cranbrook Academy for community service.” I grab a string of cheese-oozing curly fry from his plate and pop it into my mouth. “And it was worth the wait, I’m sure.”

  He chuckles, and pushes his food toward me. “Please, help yourself,” he says, sarcasm dripping in his tone.

  “Oh, I plan to.” I steal another fry before he changes his mind.

  We eat in silence. I devour the best cheeseburger on the face of the Earth, slurp my Mountain Dew, and occasionally pop a curly fry, or three.

  “Tell me something about yourself,” Vincent says abruptly.

  “Wow, that didn’t sound like an interview or anything,” I say with my mouth full.

  “You’re the girliest tom-boy I’ve ever known,” Vincent says.

  I arch a brow. “That the best insult you’ve got?”