by Kitty Parker
I shrugged and leaned back again. All was back to normal now, and my Matchmaker plan was progressing well. Everything was good now, without Rhianna. "And also, I just don't get monogamy."
A sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sigh. "And what precisely does that mean?" she asked, enough offense in her voice that I actually answered with about as much though as I could spare form the stickers above me.
"Doesn't it get boring? I mean, one person all the time!" Though I wouldn't get bored with you, I added mentally, but I didn't dare say it out loud. But honestly, if it was anyone else, the idea just seemed stupid. People were boring, as a rule.
I could sense her eye roll. "Darien, you're a pig," she observed, disappointment coloring her reply. She didn't, however, sound surprised. I felt like that should have offended me. "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe, if you find the right person, every day would be an adventure, bright and new?"
Yes. "I see that it works for some people." Images flashed through my mind. My parents. The Lexingtons. Brock and Rhianna, laughing together. Lex and Candy, dancing around each other but only delaying the inevitable. Emma and a shadowy figure with long dark hair, shining green eyes meeting a startling violet with a pure joy I could never evoke. I closed my eyes with a shudder, willing the image away. "But I don't think it's for me."
"A pity."
"Why?" she couldn't actually care – could she?
"Because-" she hesitated a second as if changing tracks mid-sentence. "Because when you rule it out, it won't happen."
"Do you know how many clichés you've said in the last minute?" I countered, clearly sidestepping her comment. Maybe it was true, but that didn't matter. The only girl I could see myself with right now was off limits as no one had ever been before. And in a very real way, I was glad of that. Chains had never looked so inviting, but they were still chains.
"Yeah, well-" she stopped suddenly again, and I could hear rustling that meant she had moved the phone away from her ear. Unfortunately for her though, she hadn't covered the mouthpiece well enough, and I could hear every word.
"Yeah, it's him," she muttered. Female sounding voices trilled with giggles (I recognized Candy's laughter), and somewhere in the background I could hear an unfamiliar voice cry,
"Aww, how cute!"
A smirk spread over my face, as it did every time someone suggested we should go out. This was one of the few times the masses obviously had the right idea. Usually, Emma would have snapped back belligerently, but this time – to my delight – her retort was far weaker.
"Marie, shut up!" she hissed, still clearly audible over her muffling hand, "He can still hear us!"
"Good. Darien," I recognized the voice now as the one that had called me earlier, though now she was shouting over Emma's clamped hand. She certainly seemed livelier now; sleep deprivation or alcohol I couldn't tell. "Just ask her out already! I promise she'll say-"
"Bye Darien!" Emma yelped, slamming the phone shut so hard that the snap hurt my ear. Damn. Just when it was getting really, really, interesting.
But would that girl – Marie, I think it was – have told me to ask Emma out if she actually thought she would say no? Marie certainly hadn't seemed malicious, or jealous that I hadn't asked her out. Maybe…was it possible…that Emma liked me back? She had almost kissed me- we were great friends and I didn't want to ruin that-She was beautiful-was maybe getting over Dan-hadn't gone out with anyone since I had known her-had turned down Mann- she had forgiven me, when she never forgives anyone.
But if she did like me, what then? Did I ask her out? I didn't want to mess up our friendship, as cliché as that was, and I didn't know how to be a boyfriend. I didn't do relationships or fidelity; I wasn't capable of it. But, God, Emma…
I threw myself back onto the bed, staring up at the plastic stars that no longer seemed half so interesting. Starry night, hair black as night but silky smooth… I was drifting off when a sudden, horrifying thought jolted me awake and bolt upright.
This so messed up my plans for the Matchmaker!
Chapter 33
* * *
Emma
* * *
"Emma!" The shrill cry – loud enough that it should have made me clap my hands over my ears in pain at the volume and pitch – cut through the crowded airport, making people wince away from the blur of movement rushing towards me in the wake of the yell. Seconds later, I was engulfed in a backbreaking hug, large enough to put a bear to shame.
"Emma!" Rhi squealed again, finally releasing me and looking around for the bags she had inevitably dropped in her mad whirlwind. "Oh my god, I can't believe it's actually you! And in person too!" She was smiling the real Rhi smile now, the one that stretched from ear to ear and made her face glow with delight. I think Brock fell for that smile alone.
"I know, it's about time, right?" I grinned back, just as excited as her, if somewhat quieter; I don't think I could ever reach that note. Rhi nodded enthusiastically, scooped up her bags, and began to walk, chattering non-stop. Yep, same old Rhi, tall and freckled and fire-haired, with a mouth as quick as her laugh.
"I mean, I feel like it's been forever since I was here. I know it's only been a year, but I still feel like you've changed soooo much. I bet everyone else has too." Only half-listening – okay, maybe only a quarter listening – I gestured her to Allan's car (still hadn't gotten around to getting my own car…alright, not sure I wanted one). She tossed her bags in, still talking. "My parents won't be coming 'til next week, because they had business to finish up or something, but school starts so they let me come back early because they say I can take care of myself now." I snorted skeptically. "Or at least, they think so," she amended, beaming guiltily at me.
"But how are people?" she continued with barely a breath, "I'm so excited to be back. How's Lex? It's so weird that he's your brother now. I mean, I knew he was, but now I'm gonna actually see it! Weird. Maybe if I had a brother, I wouldn't have had to move. But, in a way, it was better this way. Brock and I are both sure of ourselves now. Or at least, I am." Ah, now we got to the part of her rambling that I had been expecting and she had been waiting to throw in. "How is he, by the way?"
"He's fine," I replied calmly, most of my attention on the road. I hadn't driven for a while. After all, I could usually get a ride, and I didn't often feel like borrowing car – or driving for that matter. Although, I realized with a shock, I hadn't thought about Dan in weeks. Had I finally made it past him? Or, my conscience whispered in my mind, had someone else just replaced him? Hurriedly, before Rhi could notice my lapse into introspection, I went on, "Still pining after you, of course. I could track the progress of your relationship last year by his mood on any given day."
She laughed merrily, her giggle as musical as Candy's (Why did I always have to be friends with people who can laugh prettily? It wasn't my fault that I couldn't laugh as daintily) but somehow more real, less contrived.
"That's good. How awful and un-storybook-ish would it be if he had gotten over me? Not that I even thought that that could happen, because he's Brock, but still… I was a tiny teensy bit worried." What on earth did she have to be worried about? She was living a freaking fairy tale; her prince would never do anything as ignoble as forgetting her. Her life would end up with a happily ever after, just like it started with a once upon a time.
"Well, don't worry, that hasn't happened," I assured her. A shy smile curved her perfect, cupid-bow lips, and I couldn't be bitter. Everything would be all right in her world, after a year of mess ups, and I couldn't begrudge her that. Not even when I knew my own problems couldn't be remedied by some boy's kiss.
We pulled into her driveway after 15 more minutes of her amiable chatter and my contented silence. It was nice to have her back; phones just couldn't do her justice. My new friends were great and all, but there was something liberating about a friend who had known you for ten years, ever since she had happened to come up to you at a broken down old playground next to the kindergarten her
mother was visiting.
"So," Rhi panted as we finally managed to lug the last of her bags up three flights of stairs to her room, "I should call him now." Like usual, there was no question about who 'he' was. With her, I always knew.
Her hand was already on her phone when my inner dramatic reared its head, the Matchmaker possessing my mouth. "Wait," I snapped. She froze midway through opening the phone, silver-grey eyes wide and scared.
"Why?" I could see the panic rising in her face, terror that I had been lying or softening the truth for her sake (but honestly, when had I ever had pity on someone?). "Is he with a girl right now? I knew it! You were lying! Why didn't you just tell me, I could've taken it. He's forgotten me already! How dare he! How-" tears were growing in her eyes, huge, silent drops that Rhi could summon at need; that made her look so attractive and vulnerable; that I was pretty sure had captured Brock.
"No, it's not that," I cut her off before she could really hit her spazzing stride. Rhi could really irritate me when her melodrama exploded into a mushroom cloud of tears and yells. "It's just, well, don't you want a better entrance?"
"What do you mean?" she asked cautiously, setting down the phone. I grinned wickedly at her, leaning closer with conspiratorial glee. I knew her too well.
"Don't you want more of a surprise than just giving him a call? Wouldn't you rather make an entrance? A fairy tale, dramatic entrance that'll knock his socks off and remind everyone just why they believed in love?" I had caught her. By the end of my speech, Rhi's expression matched mine, impishly excited with eyes glowing in anticipation.
"Did you have something in mind?" Her phone was back in her pocket; I had won. The scene played itself out behind my eyes, the ending of their romance novel, the happily-ever-after.
"How does this sound," I proposed, slowly at first but getting faster as the plan took shape as clearly as a cloudless day. "Brock's birthday is tomorrow- as I'm sure you know." She nodded. "We- Darien and Allan and I- are throwing him a birthday party that night, at our house. If you came a bit late, texted me or something so I could let you in, and then I could say something like, 'Brock, I have a gift for you…'"
An hour or so later, and we had fleshed out our scheme down to the minute detail of her outfit, which Rhi insisted was the most important part. Rhi was perched on the edge of her bed; I was sitting cross-legged at the head of the bed, and the blue rugged floor was covered with a rainbow of clothes that had been considered and discarded.
"So, enough about me," she finally said, collapsing exhaustedly to the floor and curling up there, like a bird in a crow's nest. "What's been up with you? How's Darien…" She held out his name for a teasing stress, as sing-songy as a child chanting lovey-dovey, mocking rhymes at an older sibling.
"Okay," I admitted reluctantly, not meeting her eyes. Just because she was right didn't mean I had to let her rub it in. "Maybe I do like him. A lot."
"I knew it!" she cried, jumping up and spraying clothes everywhere, all her fatigue forgotten. This excited her even more than coming home, apparently. And people called me a romantic, just because I was the Matchmaker. Rhi outdid me by a mile. "I totally told you so! I was so right!"
"Yes, you were," I muttered into my hands, rolling my eyes. This was why I had resisted telling her. She made such a big deal about it. It's not like my epiphany had even changed me and Darien's friendship at all.
"So," she chirped, grey eyes fixed on me with all the piercing intensity of any trained interrogator, "Does he like you too?" She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, blinding hair swinging around her shoulders. She had cut it, I noticed in a desperate non sequitur to distract myself, but it didn't work for long. She gave me a sharp look, and I caved. I hadn't been able to talk to anyone about this, and I had been aching to confess.
"I don't know!" I moaned, rolling back onto the white eyelet coverlet, my hands over my eyes. I really did not enjoy this whole crushing thing; there was a reason they called it agony. But it never looked this painful from the outside, as the Matchmaker; I hadn't gone through this since Dan. Damn Darien and his stupid emotion-inducing tendencies. "He's been acting even weirder then usual. First he's really attentive, and I swear I've caught him staring at me, and sometimes he'll start saying something that sounds like it's going to be really meaningful, but then he goes cold and runs away from me. He'll avoid me, and then appear behind me and be really talkative and friendly. There are times I know he likes me- the other day he almost kissed me again, if we hadn't been interrupted- but then he acts like he dislikes me. I called him twice yesterday-" Rhi shot me a laughing look full of significance, and I scowled, "it was about the party, shut up. Anyway, he didn't answer. And that wouldn't mean anything, but Allan called him between those two times and he picked up, and he denied even getting my calls when Allan asked. God!" I groaned and hit my head in frustration, "I just don't understand him!"
Rhi snorted. "What?" I demanded, still fixating on the palms of my hands, considering the lines on them. Two lines crossed- I wondered if that would mean anything to palm readers, and if I would care if it did. I would prefer to have my fate in my own hands; I hated predestination. I needed to be in control of my own life. Which, of course, was why this vacillation was so damned painful.
"You're the Matchmaker," she replied in a choked voice, holding back her laughter with difficulty. I raised my head to look at her. Her lips were clenched closed, as if opening them would release her mirth. Hmph. See if I was sympathetic the next time she had issues with Brock. "What's your take on it? You should know, after all. I mean-"
"I don't know!" I repeated, head falling back down onto the bed. She made it sound so easy, but it wasn't, not when it involved me. "I told you, it seems like he likes me. Usually. Sometimes. But he's still Darien, and he still flirts with every girl in sight, and-"
"He could be trying to make you jealous," Rhi suggested easily, still in that gleefully muffled voice. I propped myself up on my elbow so I could glare at her. This was not as simple as she thought.
"You think that hasn't occurred to me?" I retorted, irritated but not so annoyed that I couldn't recognize the irony of our switched positions. About a year and a half ago, we had had this exact same conversation quite a lot; only, the guys were different and our parts were reversed. And my story probably wouldn't end up like hers. "But he certainly seems enthusiastic about a ploy like that."
"Well, duh. I mean, he is a guy," she drawled, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world – which I suppose it was. I favored her with my very best Not-Helping look (which I had perfected years ago on her) and she shrugged. "Well, just last until school starts. I'm sure the Matchmaker can figure it out." She leaned down and began gathering up her scattered cloths, like the neat freak that hides deep inside of her. "By this time next week, everything'll be back to normal."
Normal. Darien giving notes to the Matchmaker, trying to woo her for some unknown reason. Me, refusing to flirt with him for fear of showing my own vulnerability, but longing for him to start it. Rhi and Brock back together- damn it. Unless Darien was a lot thicker than I had thought (and he wasn't), Rhi's return would be the catalyst for the revelation I had been dreading for a year. He had to be able to connect the dots once he knew about my connection to Rhi. Damn. Damn damn damn damn damn.
I fell back onto the covers, staring at the ceiling with a gaze that could only see proud, kind eyes a blue as changeable as the sea. Rhi was right, in a way. This time next week, everything would be decided.
* * *
Darien
* * *
Tonight would be the night. I had been indecisive long enough, almost asking Emma out a dozen times in the past two weeks and then chickening out. But, I decided, that was going to end. I wasn't a coward, whatever else I might have been; no girl could say no to me anyway, and Emma Laycha would be no exception. I hoped. I was Darien McGavern, after all, and I refused to be ruled by a slip of a girl anymore. By the end of tonight, I would have a yes or a no, and t
hat would either be the end of that or the beginning.
It was with that decisive mindset that I walked into Emma's house, just before the party began. For once, I was early, but as I was officially one of the hosts, I figured I had to be. Emma had clearly been at work for a while now; the downstairs, public area of the house was already set out with the usual party fixtures. Someone (I suspected Emma, or at least I bet she had been the one to think of it) had hung a huge banner from one end of the wall to the other, reading 'Happy Birthday Brock!' One thing you had to say for Emma, she didn't think small.
"Hey, Dar!" Lex came shuffling into the room from the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder in fear. At the sight of me, he put on a burst of speed and darted behind me. Him being hundred pounds heavier and four inches taller I didn't really hide him very well. "Thank God you're here. You can protect me from-" Emma entered the room through the same door, foot tapping impatiently. "-her," Lex finished with a squeak. Apparently – not unexpectedly – she was on the warpath.
"Oh, good, Darien, you're here," she acknowledged curtly in a horrible contrast with her welcoming brother, "You can help." Lex made a noise somewhere between a sigh of relief and a squeal of protest. She fixed him with a stern gaze that I nearly quailed under, even though it wasn't directed at me. "You," she ordered without room for disobedience, "Will stay here. People should be coming soon."
"But-" she rolled her eyes.
"You look fine," with a single, preemptory look up and down him. She yanked the collar of his polo shirt straight and ruffled his hair carefully. "Candy will drop dead with awe. Now, Darien," she clamped a hand over my wrist, "Come on."
She dragged me into the dining room, where a massive, sugary, chocolaty concoction decorated the same way as the banner dominated the table. "He's useless," she confessed with a laugh, her martinet's behavior dissolving in the wry chuckle, "All he's been doing for the last hour is look in the mirror. I swear, he's as bad as Candy."
