by Sarah Bates
☼
“So, you’ve really never seen snow before?”
We had sat on the couch for a long time, simply enjoying the quiet while we held each other, and watched the sun set through his windows. Once the room had grown dark, illuminated only by the dim golden light that filtered in through the sheers from the outside lights, Hayden had gathered me closer, then stood and carried me to his bed, where we still lay, our legs tangled together, our hands lightly exploring while we told each other random things about ourselves.
So far, this latest confession of his, that he’d never in his life seen snow, was, in truth, the most shocking.
“Like never?” I said, still trying to process this.
“Not in person, no. Unless you count snow cones,”
“I don’t,” I said before he could finish, and he chuckled. “Have you ever been north of the Mason/Dixon?” I asked, only half-joking.
He shifted his head and gave me a bland look. “Yes, I’ve been north of the Mason/Dixon,” he said in an equally bland tone. “I have, in fact, even been out of the country.” When I grimaced, he chuckled and pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose.
“Sorry, that was,”
“A legitimate question,” he said before I could finish. “I was only teasing. My dad was in the Army when I was little, so we moved around a lot, until my mom got tired of it. When I was six she brought Logan and me back here so we could have a steadier homelife, with family and friends, and a school we wouldn’t have to change just about every year, and my dad would come home occasionally to visit. But there was one time when he was stationed in Germany that my mom took us over and we stayed for the summer. It was fun for a while, but we were little, so the whole European experience was sort of lost on us.”
I hummed at that, and shifted closer to him, brushing one of my hands over his hair. “How old were you when he got out?”
“Ten, so we got to have a few years to all be together before…” He trailed off, then shrugged. “Anyway. My mom was a major homebody and didn’t care much for traveling, so we didn’t go very many places even after he got out and got a job as a commercial pilot. Though there was this one time, I think I was eleven, maybe twelve, the four of us and the Armstrongs all went camping together at this place up in South Carolina. An old Army friend of my dad’s owns a campground in a small town called Millford, up in the mountains. It’s on a lake, and there was this bakery – I think it was called Sweet Carolina – and they had the best cinnamon rolls I’ve ever tasted. I always wanted to go back, but we never did.” He shook his head. “I don’t even know if any of it is still there.”
I felt a tug in my heart over the sadness I could see in his eyes, and touched his cheeks. “I’ve never been camping,” I told him.
“Never?” When I shook my head, he looked astounded. “Not even in your backyard?”
“No.” I shook my head again. “My dad never would have allowed it. When we went on vacations it was always where he wanted to go, and there could be no less than five stars involved. If he was going to go on vacation, then he wanted to be catered to. Although, there was this one time, a few summers back where he actually let my mom choose, and we went to this island off the coast of Maine. It was beautiful. We stayed in this really nice boutique inn, and ate some of the best seafood I’ve ever had, down on the docks. While my dad played golf at the local resort, my mom and I went hiking at the nature preserve and built sandcastles on the beach. Oh,” I added, thinking back to that summer. It seemed forever ago. “I also had one of the best tacos I’ve ever had while we were there.”
“Tacos? On a New England island?”
I nodded. “The place we got them at was called The Whole Enchilada. They had some truly superior queso, too.”
“Really?”
I nodded once more. “My mom and I had a blast while we were there. Honestly, it was the most fun we’d had in ages, but my dad complained the whole way home about what a waste of money it had been, and swore he’d never go back. So we didn’t.” I slid one of my hands up along his back, enjoying so much the fact that I was able to touch him this way.
“Maybe someday we’ll go there,” he said, brushing his fingers through my hair.
I smiled and brushed my fingers lightly over the Celtic cross that decorated the back of his shoulder. “I’d like that,” I said. “And maybe while we’re at it, we can go camping in Millford.”
He smiled and shifted closer to me. “I’d like that,” he said, brushing his lips over mine.
We were just starting to sink into the kiss, slowly, deeply, when there was a knock on the door.
Groaning, Hayden pulled out of the kiss and rolled onto his back. “Who is it?” he called out.
“It’s Scott,” the person on the other side of the door called back.
For a brief moment I froze, my disappointment over the interruption swiftly replaced by a sudden, gut wrenching fear. I rolled off of Hayden’s bed before he could even respond to my cousin, and rushed to open the door. “Is everyone okay?” I asked the moment the door was open.
He blinked in surprise. “Um, yes. Sorry, didn’t you get my messages? I was bringing Zach home and your mom asked if I could stop by and pick you up…Hayden,” he added when Hayden came up behind me and opened the door wider. He lifted his eyebrows and his lips curved into a grin. “Sorry if I interrupted anything. But it’s getting late, and,”
“It’s a school night,” Hayden finished, and Scott nodded. “Right. Well, I was going to take her home, but,” he gestured at Scott and beyond him to the car, where Zach could be seen sitting in the front passenger seat.
“Yeah. Again, I’m sorry if I interrupted.”
“Nothing we can’t pick up later,” Hayden said, and he brushed a hand over my hair. “You okay, Coco?”
“Hmm? Oh, yes, I’m fine.” I sighed, because while I was grateful my family was all right, I was sad my time with Hayden was ending for the night. “I just wish I didn’t have to leave.”
“Me too.” He lowered his head and kissed me softly, then sighed as he pulled back. “We’ll see each other tomorrow, though.”
I nodded, then, since Scott was still standing there, looking a little like he felt out of place, I shifted and went to get my phone from the coffee table. I’d put it on silent at one point, not wanting to be interrupted while Hayden and I talked. Sure enough, there were Scott’s messages – all three of them – and one from my mom, too, letting me know that Scott would be by to get me. The one message that surprised me, though, was the one from my dad. I froze when I saw it, my mind going blank.
“Coco?” Scott shifted and stepped into the room. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. “I just…my dad texted me.”
He and Hayden both frowned, as they both knew that I hadn’t heard from my dad since my mom and I had left Minnesota. Not even after I had sucked it up and had sent him a couple of messages to let him know we were safe and settled, and that I liked it here.
“What does it say?” Scott asked.
“I don’t,” I cleared my throat and shook my head. “You read it.” I held my phone out to him, my phone’s screen bright between us.
“Coco.” He shook his head and gently nudged my hand back toward me. “You need to read it.”
I caught my lower lip between my teeth and glanced at Hayden.
“You need to read it,” he echoed. “Coco, he’s your dad. He’s an ass, yes, but he’s still your dad. Maybe all it is, is him finally getting back to you about your messages to him,” he said. He waited a beat, then added, “If I could still get a message from my dad, no matter how angry with him I was, I’d read it.”
I grimaced at that because he was right. I might be angry with my dad right now, but at least he was still alive, and there was still a chance that someday he and I might be able to work out our differences. Shaking my head, I tapped on the message and brought it up to fill the screen.
Thank you for you
r updates. I found a box of your mother’s things that didn’t make it into the storage pod. What address should I send it to?
“Coco,”
“He found a box of my mom’s stuff and just wants to know where to send it,” I said before Hayden could say anything else.
“Oh. Well, that’s still progress though, isn’t it?” Scott asked.
“It’s at least better than bad news,” I replied, and I sighed as I tapped out a quick response, sending him Uncle Jim’s address and letting him know I’d let my mom know to expect the box.
His response was quick, almost as though he’d been waiting to send it.
Thank you, I’d appreciate that.
I waited to see if he’d say anything else, but he didn’t. Telling myself that I wasn’t surprised, I simply tucked my phone into my back pocket.
“Small steps,” Hayden said when I looked at him.
I nodded and pushed up on my toes to kiss him, then, because I knew it was getting late, I let him walk me to the door, following Scott.
“See you tomorrow,” I said.
He nodded. “See you tomorrow,” he said, bringing our joined hands up to kiss mine. “I love you.”
I smiled, my heart beating a quick, giddy beat. “I love you, too,” I said in return, then I stepped out into the moist, heavy air.
“Text me when you get home.”
I nodded, then because tomorrow morning seemed so far away at that moment, I kissed him again to tide me over until I could kiss him again, then I let Scott lead me away, toward where he had parked his car.
“So, you’re already at the love you stage?” he asked, bumping me lightly in the side with his elbow.
I blushed and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear when the wind blew it loose. “We are,” I said, reaching out to open the back passenger door. “I know it’s soon, but,”
“Hey, when you know, you know,” he said before I could finish, and climbed in behind the wheel.
I climbed into the back, and Zach pulled his earbuds free from his ears. His music was so loud that I could actually hear some of the lyrics from the mini speakers.
“It’s about time,” he muttered. “Aren’t there laws against leaving children unattended in cars?”
Scott gave him a bland look as he secured his seatbelt. “You’re sixteen, Zachary. And I left the keys. I think you’re old enough to know how to turn a car on and adjust the air-conditioner.”
I smirked over their exchange and looked out my window, waving when I saw Hayden still standing in the open doorway.
He waved back, then folded his arms at his bare chest as Scott put his car in gear and backed out of his parking space.
He was still standing there when we pulled out onto the main road and drove away.
Fifteen
Without Ava at school for the rest of the week, and with Neal keeping his distance, Hayden seemed a lot more relaxed. Of course, part of that might have also had to do with the fact that he’d told me his story. With all of it out in the open between us, he seemed…lighter. As though a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He smiled more easily, and laughed more often.
Realizing this, I felt a tug in my chest, knowing that even after everything we’d shared over the past few weeks, there had been a part of him that been afraid I wouldn’t understand. That I might, even, judge him for what he had gone through.
Clearly there had been others who had, and maybe even still did.
It made me want to wrap my arms around him and protect him.
I kept this thought to myself, though, as I didn’t want him to feel any more self-conscious about what he’d said than I knew he already did. Instead, I simply enjoyed every moment I got to spend with him, and did my best to show him how I felt.
This resulted in the two of us spending just about every spare moment we had together stretched out either on his bed or his couch. While we did spend a good chunk of that time kissing – a new favorite activity of mine – sometimes we’d talk about our days or something random, and other times, as in the case of last night, we’d simply lay there and hold each other, enjoying the peaceful quiet.
Now, as I joined my mom, my aunts, Kat, Margo, and Maddie, along with some of our friends and their moms at Aunt Nora’s boutique, I was wishing I could still be there with him, listening to his heartbeat against my ear, and the distant rumble of waves.
Whatever I might have envisioned the photo shoot being like, it wasn’t this organized chaos, as Aunt Nora called it.
While Delaney set up his equipment – I’d been picturing a digital camera, maybe on a tripod; instead, it turned out that he had the full deal, with filters, lights, light screens, and half a dozen different types of lenses (and yes, a tripod, too) – Margo dragged me into the back storage room, which had been temporarily transformed into a giant dressing room, with racks of clothes and swimsuits, shoes, and long tables complete with mirrors to serve as makeup and hair stations.
All of the girls swarmed the stations, doing their hair and makeup, each one talking over the others.
I nearly turned around and retreated, but Margo had a firm grip, and a determined gleam in her eyes. She, clearly, had a plan. And I had no choice but to participate in it.
Resigned to my fate, I did as every animal caught in the headlights of an on-coming semi-truck would do, and simply surrendered to it.
“You doing okay?” Demi asked about an hour later, when Margo had finally finished her vision for my hair and makeup. “You look a little shell-shocked.”
She leaned against the table I sat at, in her habitual torn, fraying old skinny jeans and a vintage Led Zeppelin t-shirt that was at least three sizes too large for her slender frame. Her face was remarkably still free of makeup – clearly Margo had yet to see her and had the chance to go all scary makeup artist on her – though her hair had been styled into some edgy, fashionable cross between a pompadour and mohawk, the sides and back of which had been recently buzzed to a thin layer of black against her scalp.
She wore tiny golden hops and pretty, sparkly studs all along the edges of her earlobes, a matching stud in the corner of her nose, while a matching hoop decorated the arch of her opposite eyebrow.
One might have thought that all the piercings would have made her face look cluttered, but instead they gave her a rather exotic look.
“Blink once if you’re okay, twice if you need immediate extraction,” she added, lifting a can of her favored strawberry soda for a drink. When I blinked twice she choked on her soda, nearly spraying it everywhere, then, somehow managing to swallow it down, she started to laugh and cough at the same time.
“Sorry,” I said, warily turning my gaze back to the mirror in front of me.
“Nope, not necessary. I’ve been in your seat before. Margo’s a force to be reckoned with when it comes to these kinds of things.” She gestured to the hair products and makeup kit still scattered over the surface of the table. “It can be overwhelming.” She studied me for a moment, then hummed. “At least she’s better at it now. But then, she’s had a few years to work at it from when she used to burn the tips of my ears with her curling iron.”
“Actually, she nicked me,” I said, lifting a hand to touch the very top of one of my ears with a fingertip. It was still a little tender. “She told me to suck it up, because beauty is pain, when I yelped.”
She snorted softly. “Ah. Well, it’s good to know that some things don’t change.” She took another sip of her soda, and looked around us.
Unable to help myself, I said, “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but this doesn’t really seem like it would be something that you would be interested in.”
“Hmm? Oh, no. It isn’t,” she said, shaking her head as she looked back to me. “But my mom loves it, and so does my cousin Paris, so I come for them. Plus, Poppy’s really into it, and I’ll admit, the girl can be persuasive when she wants to be.”
“Poppy?” I asked, not recognizing the name.
&n
bsp; She nodded and gestured over toward one of the racks of dresses with her soda can. “Poppy Gadot. Esme’s younger sister, and other than Wes, my best friend.”
I glanced over and saw the girl she had gestured to.
Esme, who had shoulder-length, wavy blonde hair, was tall and willow slim, while Poppy had nearly waist-length wavy dark chocolate brown hair, and was shorter by a good couple of inches, still slender, but with more curves.
Judging from the current outfit she was wearing, she was also…eclectic in her fashion sense. A cross between flower child hippy and bohemian gypsy was really the only way to describe her.
When I looked back to Demi, she grinned. “We first bonded over our mutual appreciation for sticking it to modern conventions – i.e. Margo and her obsession with all things fashionista and her quest to reach trophy girl status – then later over our other mutual appreciations for art and good, deep fried foods and strawberry soda.” She took a sip of her drink as she looked back to the other girl, and her lips curved into a rare grin. “Plus, I’m also pretty sure she’s my soul-mate.”
I blinked in surprise at this, as no one had said anything. “Oh. I, ah,” I stopped myself before I said something insulting. When she looked back to me, I cleared my throat.
Demi waited a beat, then said, “Let me guess, Margo told you that I’m secretly in love with Wes.”
“Something like that,” I confessed.
She rolled her pretty sea glass green eyes. “I’m not. I just don’t like the way she treats him like an accessory. He’s a human being with feelings, and she’s hurt him a lot. But then, I guess he’s hurt her a few times, too, so I suppose they might actually be even in that regard at this point.” She frowned softly as she considered this, then shook her head. “Anyway, despite what Margo thinks, my affection for Wes is strictly platonic. He’s like my brother. Now, that’s not to say that there haven’t been guys that I’ve liked in the past.” She took a sip of her drink, and studied me as I processed this. “Let’s just say I don’t like labels.”
