Besides, I’d always kind of liked biology.
So anyways, my point was, I was as good as done with school so no one would care if I missed one stupid homework assignment.
By the time I reached the sink with my plate, my parents’ earlier conversation about violin lessons picked up again as if I’d never interrupted. They didn’t seem to expect answers these days; they just asked questions out of habit.
I almost made it out the door without any further questions but by the time I’d reapplied some makeup and run back downstairs with my car keys and a clutch purse in hand, my parents had gone their separate ways and Bradley was practicing violin in the dining room.
My mom was watching him practice and she spotted me trying to slip out. “You’re not going out like that, are you?”
I automatically looked down at my outfit on the off chance that maybe I was about to leave the house with a major spill on my clothes or something. But no, no spills. Just skinny jeans and a black tunic-style top. Casual, chic, and not even remotely revealing. I looked up to frown at my mom. “What’s wrong with this?”
Her sigh held a world of exasperation.
See? I told you I was very familiar with exasperated sighs. Julian-the-put-upon had nothing on my mother. I felt a smile forming as I thought about how I’d tell him that.
He’d give me that cute, lopsided smile and do that funny stifled laugh he did whenever I was mocking him and he was trying not to actually outright laugh.
My smile fell when my mom launched into a litany of all the ways I didn’t look good enough to leave the house, starting with my brown roots that were showing and the fact that my ballet flats weren’t nearly as flattering as a stylish pair of kitten heels.
Now it was my turn to give an exasperated sigh. “Not all of us were blessed with your naturally beautiful blonde locks, Mother.”
She arched her brows, clearly unamused by my tone. “That’s why some of us pay good money for you to get your hair done on a regular basis so you don’t look like a ragamuffin.”
“I have a hair appointment this weekend,” I said. “As for the shoes, you don’t even know where I’m going, how do you know these aren’t appropriate for the situation?”
“Are you going to perform in a ballet recital?” my mother asked, her tone dripping with acidic sarcasm. “That is the only way those shoes would be suitable.”
I bit my tongue to keep from uttering a nasty retort in response which would only escalate this lovely interaction from a tussle to a war. I so didn’t need to die on this hill. She and I would forever have to agree to disagree on the merits of ballet slippers outside the theater.
Most mothers would be ecstatic if their daughters dressed as conservatively as I did, but I’d long since learned that if I wore it my mother wouldn’t like it. Not to be too melodramatic about it, but it seemed clear that it wasn’t my clothes my mom didn’t care for, but me. She didn’t like me and never had, but I could say in all honesty that the feeling was mutual.
My mother’s painted-on brows drew together and she fixed me with a glare. Everything I knew about being cold I learned from this woman. In her defense, there was a time and place for employing that kind of coldness. Perhaps not when one’s eleven-year-old daughter was crying over being called mean names, but I would never have survived junior high or high school without that icy façade in my bag of tricks.
The best revenge on people who’ve hurt you was to never let them know they’d scored a hit. I never gave them the satisfaction and that was all thanks to what I learned at Mother’s knee.
Touching, right? I know, my life was one big Hallmark card.
“Where are you going, anyway?” she asked, suddenly suspicious. Apparently she’d forgotten that the question had already been asked and unanswered.
“To perform in a ballet,” I said.
“Funny.” She waited for me to give a real answer.
I let out a long exhale. “I’m going to watch a geek from my class sing some earnest, cheesy ballads about his latest breakup.”
She tilted her head to the side and pulled her lips in like she’d just sucked on a lemon. This was the face that clearly announced her patience was wearing thin. “And now I expect a serious answer.”
“Party at Melody’s.” Life was just easier when you gave people what they expected.
“Be back by midnight,” she said as she walked away, her heels clacking on the hallway tiles as she headed back to watch Bradley be perfect.
We both knew she’d be popping an Ambien at nine-thirty and fast asleep at ten. No one would notice what time I came home as long as I was at breakfast in the morning.
But while that came in handy some nights, something told me an open mic night would end tamely.
Oh God…I might even make curfew.
The coffee shop scene was even more pathetic than I’d expected, which was really saying something. It was hobo central, with girls who looked like they’d never heard of makeup, and guys who desperately needed a shave. Lots of hipsters. Way too many man buns.
And then there was Julian. From where I stood by the front door, I could see him sitting at a small table right up next to the small stage. He was sitting with someone. I frowned at the girl. A blonde.
My tension eased as I recognized her weird little up-do, which made her look like an elf or something. Alice Kern. Of course she’d be here, she was Julian’s best friend at Briarwood. His only friend, as far as I knew, unless one counted me…and they shouldn’t.
Alice was already clapping for him as he took the stage and started tuning his guitar and adjusting the microphone. He hadn’t spotted me yet.
Good. That would make this more convincing.
It didn’t take me long to find his ex behind the barista bar, and when I did I let out a loud groan that had the table sitting to my right look over. I gave them a sneer that said ‘what are you looking at?’ and turned back to study her.
Leila. It was clearly her. She had dark hair that was pulled back in a loose, messy ponytail that was meant to look casual, but I knew from experience was anything but. No one’s messy ponytail looked that hot without an ungodly amount of hair product. If the fact that she was the only pretty girl behind the counter didn’t give her away, everything else about her did.
She was smiling at Julian up on the stage with a sweet sadness that made her look poetic and deep.
Poetic and deep, my ass. This girl was a phony. I could smell her insincerity from the doorway. She was playing the part of the cool poetry-loving coffee shop girl who listened to jazz and blah blah blah.
I followed her gaze to the poor nerd on stage who’d never seen her coming. Poor Julian. Nice, naïve Julian. He may enjoy irony and sarcasm. He probably even thought he was worldly thanks to all the documentaries he probably watched and the newspapers he obviously read.
Trust me, I knew his type.
But his world was filled with people like Alice—people who were kind and sincere, just like him. The kind who didn’t play games. They couldn’t be manipulative or backstabbing if their lives depended on it.
I tucked my purse under my arm and headed over to Leila’s station, but a gangly, freckled youngster rushed over to help me as she blithely continued restocking the glasses, her gaze drifting over to Julian again and again.
To his credit, he didn’t seem to notice. He was stubbornly keeping his attention on the guitar he was tuning, not looking up to make eye contact with anyone, let alone the ex behind the bar.
One could actually believe he didn’t notice the little smiles she was aiming in his direction like a weapon. But I knew better. I’d played the ignorance-is-bliss card way too often not to notice it. He might be good at pretending she didn’t exist but he was aware of her, and my bet was his heart was breaking over it.
I clenched my fists at my side. Rage, baby. I was all about it. And this chick? She pissed me off on principle alone. She should never have tried to play games with someone like him. She’d
toyed with a guy who didn’t know he was part of a game. That made me hate her even more than the fact that she was a cheater.
Even if Julian hadn’t been nice to me I’d be itching to take her down a peg. But he had been nice to me. Surprisingly so. I cocked my head to the side to crack my neck.
Bring it, barista.
Leila smiled at something her coworker said before swatting him with a bar rag. Ugh. So sickeningly sweet. And this was my competition.
Well, no, not seriously my competition. Obviously I had no real interest in an overgrown dork like Julian. He was so not my type. But I also didn’t believe in owing anyone anything and these past couple weeks Julian had helped me in more ways than one.
Even now Alex was probably stewing over the fact that he’d lost the best thing that had ever happened to him, and all for one night with that sleazy sophomore. He was likely cursing Julian’s name just because he’d had the gall to talk to me at lunch and walk with me in the halls.
That had taken guts. Julian might not have appreciated that I’d lied about his interest, but he hadn’t cowered in fear either.
I respected that.
I glanced over at Julian on the stage with his hipster glasses and his black faded T-shirt as I made my way through the crowd to the table where Alice was watching the stage with a grin. She looked over at me when I sat and then she did a double-take. An honest to God double-take.
I smiled as I raised my cappuccino to my lips. Her wide-eyed surprise bordered on horror. “Tina?” she said, her voice screechy with shock.
I looked toward Julian to see if he’d spotted us talking but he had his head bent over his guitar. Alice was blinking and shaking her head, making too much of a scene but somehow Julian didn’t seem to notice. A quick glance back showed that Leila was too caught up in flirting with a coworker to notice either.
“What are you doing here?” Alice asked.
I nodded toward the stage. “Helping a dweeb.”
Alice frowned. “What does that mean?”
I sighed. I so did not have time to spell this out for her. Besides, I wasn’t sure how much, if anything, Julian had told her about our little stockroom therapy session.
I’d been waiting for the whispers to start. Every day since the weeping incident I’d been on high alert, ready to smack down any rumors that might come up. I’d been fully prepared to throw Julian under the bus and tell the world about his patheticness if need be. Hell, I’d have made something up if I’d been forced to.
But I hadn’t needed to. I’d thought for sure he’d been coming over to my lunch table to do…something. I still wasn’t sure what I’d expected him to say. I’d been too startled that he’d had the nerve to approach.
Most Briarwood students knew better. Julian either didn’t know our table was off limits or he hadn’t cared. Either way, he hadn’t come to publicly humiliate me as I’d initially feared.
He’d come over and risked Alex’s wrath to…help me? I still couldn’t quite comprehend it, let alone understand his motives. But then again, I wasn’t used to random acts of kindness.
Or acts of kindness, period, random or otherwise.
Alice was still watching me and I could see her distrust clearly. She might be sweet but she was no fool. She was right to doubt my motives, especially since I’d just referred to her friend as a dweeb. I could practically see her protective hackles rising, ready to leap to his defense.
Yeah, Brian lucked out with this one.
I gave her a smile that I hoped would appease her as I sipped at my cappuccino and waited for my moment. “Just call this my good deed of the day.” Which was a lie. This wasn’t an act of charity so much as it was repaying a favor, but Alice didn’t need to know all that.
You deserve better.
His words had become a sort of mantra that I could cling to when Alex was being all charming and sweet. They were a stronghold to latch onto when panic rose up at the thought of all the events looming in the future that would be so much easier to navigate with Alex at my side.
Namely prom.
The epic once-in-a-lifetime dance was still weeks away but it was looming ominously in the distance. There might as well have been a countdown clock hanging over my head. Prom was supposed to be my crowning achievement to this whole high school game. Literally. I mean, what had it all been for if I didn’t get my crown?
Hayley Hayes had stolen the homecoming crown from me, but everyone knew the prom was where I would have my moment of glory. I’d win. Because I was a winner, and this contest was all mine.
But like it or not, Alex was a part of that. His being at my side made my win that much more certain. For better or for worse, we were the school’s token couple. We were the perfect duo when we were together, and we provided the school with the sort of Access Hollywood drama they craved when we were apart.
Our names were linked, our popularity was jointly shared, winning was contingent on a team effort.
Freakin’ Alex couldn’t have waited a few weeks before cheating on me again and saved me the hell of having to navigate prom and graduation alone?
Selfish bastard.
But I still had weeks to figure out how I was going to navigate that looming obstacle. To plan how on earth I was going to win the crown while still keeping my pride and my heart intact.
Good grief, girl, focus. I was here on a mission. I hated being indebted to others—I much preferred to be the godfather, generously doling out favors to guarantee allegiance. But Julian was a different story. He didn’t care about popularity so there was nothing I could offer him socially.
No, the best way I could repay Julian was with vengeance. The kind of petty payback he was too noble to enact for himself.
I nodded toward the saccharine-sweet hussy behind the counter. “That’s Leila, right?”
Alice glanced over and her pixie features turned fierce. Well, she looked like a fierce elf, which was actually not all that fierce. It was a good try though.
“Yeah, that’s her,” Alice muttered, all the bad names she was mentally calling her were written on her face. I’d bet money Alice wanted to take her down just as badly as I did.
Difference was, I’d do it. Alice was way too nice for petty revenge.
I looked up at the stage and saw that Julian was done with his prep work and was starting to softly strum his guitar. He had big hands. Nice hands.
Julian Morris had great hands.
I shook my head. All hands aside, I was here on a mission. I leaned over so I could speak quietly to Alice. “Do me a favor? Tell me when Leila’s looking over here.”
Alice frowned at me but then her gaze darted back to Leila.
At that moment, Julian looked up from his guitar and out into the audience but he still didn’t see me. He was staring off into the distance as he began to sing. His voice was beautiful. Low, husky and filled with such genuine emotion it hurt to watch him. Maybe it was just me, but listening to him made me squirm in my seat as feelings I chose not to look at threatened to break free from somewhere deep down inside me.
His voice, the soulful lyrics about falling in love for the first time—they were intimate. Knowing. Simple. But the beauty was in their simplicity. He wasn’t saying anything new about what it felt like to fall in love, but he made the audience feel it along with him.
Or maybe that was just me.
“She’s looking this way,” Alice whispered.
I blew a kiss in Julian’s direction. It wasn’t the most subtle kiss one had ever seen. In fact, it was cheesy and over-the-top. But that was the point. If I’d seen some girl do that to Alex—well first I’d gag, because it was so freakin’ lame—but then I’d leap across the tables just to tear her hair out.
Julian still hadn’t seen me, but that was for the best. I knew him well enough to assume that he was a terrible actor. At least, offstage.
Julian finished the song to some mild applause and I stood. I didn’t bother to glance back and see if Leila was watching.
I didn’t need to—I could feel her eyes on me as if they were literally shooting daggers into my back.
But Alice looked.
“Oooh, Leila did not like that,” Alice breathed, not without a heaping dose of amusement.
Of course Leila wasn’t pleased. Girls like Leila weren’t hard to understand. They were simplistic in their need for attention and adoration. They didn’t particularly care who was doing the adoring as long as it satisfied their vanity.
They ditched sweet, sincere guys like Julian the moment a better prize came along or they tired of the tedium of a drama-free relationship. The absolute best way to torture someone like that was to steal the toy she’d discarded.
It was honestly disheartening how well playground tactics still worked even in high school. It was too early to say for certain, but I had a hunch that they’d continue to work well into adulthood.
All this was to say that I had Leila’s attention and I knew it. I had Alice’s attention too.
I glanced over to see her staring at me. “What exactly are you doing?”
I liked Alice but sometimes she was just too innocent for words. “I’m helping your friend.”
“Helping my…” She looked quickly between Julian, Leila and me, her eyes lit with gleeful mischief. “How can I help?”
I set down my mug. “Just don’t act surprised.”
“Surprised by what?”
“By this.” I walked away before she could ask any stupid questions and before Julian could leave the stage.
He’d come to stand by the time I reached the stage and turned to face me when I stepped up the single step to join him in the spotlight.
“Tina?” he said, his brows drawn together in confusion. “What are you doing here, I thought—”
I kissed him before he could say anything more.
The Prom Kiss (Briarwood High Book 5) Page 6
