by Russo, Jessa
And I’d missed it ever since.
I was done waiting for her to call me. I knew she wouldn’t. I just knew. She was scared of me—scared of starting something new. I saw her trepidation in her actions, heard it in her voice.
But that glint in her eyes said differently. She’d dared me to break down her walls with that defiance, that spark. Or maybe that was just the pull to her that I felt. Either way, I wasn’t going to give up on her.
Regardless of our intertwined fates, or the fact that I was destined to know her, I wanted to know Holland Briggs. And I was going to.
It had to work. I’d planned for it.
Ro said she knew what to do to get Holland thinking about me. So either it hadn’t worked, or Holland was really good at not calling the person she was thinking about.
I had less restraint.
I checked the time—just after four o’clock—I assumed she’d probably be home by now.
Ah, hell. I stopped questioning myself and picked up my cell phone. What could it hurt?
She answered on the third ring.
“Hello?”
I was momentarily relieved her parents or Cam didn’t answer, although that momentary relief was quickly replaced by stunned silence when I forgot the reason I called, and simultaneously lost all cognitive thought.
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
“Yes, yes. Uh, sorry. It’s me.”
“Me?”
Smooth.
“Yeah, sorry. It’s Mick.”
She giggled.
I loved the sound.
“I know,” she said.
I still had no idea why I’d called. And like a little kid, my heartbeat jumped a bit when she said she knew it was me.
For Christ’s sake!
“So, what’s up? I really don’t have time to talk to you, Mick.”
I heard the smile in her voice, could picture it on her face with perfect clarity—slight and a bit of a smirk—and I imagined her biting her bottom lip on the left side. She was a walking contradiction—her eyes daring me to strip away her walls, while her absence indicated she wanted nothing to do with me. And now, just listening to her voice on the phone, I heard the invitation to get to know her, even when she tried to push me away.
How could I know this girl so well without even knowing her at all?
“Can you go out on school nights?”
“What?”
“Can you go out on school nights?” I slowly pronounced each word, even though I knew she heard me.
“Yes. I mean no. No, I can’t.”
“No? But Cam can? That seems like somewhat of a double standard, doesn’t it?”
“Cam? How do you…? Oh. He’s out with Rosemarie, isn’t he?”
“Possibly. So, do you want me to come talk to your parents about this unfair double-standard they’ve got going for you and your brother, or are you going to rethink your answer?”
She sighed.
I waited.
“Yes. I can go out on school nights. Is this a phone survey?”
“Yes. You’re doing well, and we’re almost finished. I just have one more question for you?”
“On the record?”
“Absolutely.”
“Fine. Go.”
“Have you had dinner yet?”
“No.”
“Good. Then I’ll see you in ten.”
I started to hang up, unwilling to give her the option of saying no, when she called my name.
“Mick! Wait!”
“You know, I do have other customers to call, in order to reach my survey quota.”
“I’ll meet you somewhere, okay? I’ll drive my own car.”
“Works for me. Buffalo Wild Wings on Crown Valley? In thirty minutes or so?”
“Fine.”
“Sounds good. Oh, and Holland?”
“Yeah?”
“Try to leave some of that enthusiasm at home, okay? I don’t want you to overwhelm me.”
She giggled again, and I hung up as I walked outside to my truck.
Exactly thirty minutes later, every guy Holland passed watched her as she approached me. And I watched her ignore every single one of them.
She kept her eyes on mine, that quiet defiance daring me once more. She could play coy as much as she wanted, but I knew this feeling was mutual. Call it fate, call it attraction, call it whatever. Something about Holland Briggs was pulling me to her, and I knew she felt it pulling her to me.
She stopped a few feet away from me, with her hands in the pockets of a bright red pea coat, not pulling them out to hug me or get any closer than she had to. That was fine. I could work with it. I let my gaze travel down the length of her body, noticing with pleasure the knee-high, heeled black boots.
Holland cleared her throat, and I brought my eyes back to hers. She smiled and shook her head at my blatant assessment of her.
I held the door open for her and followed her inside. We were seated immediately, and I watched her slip out of her pea coat, revealing a faded black V-neck t-shirt underneath. This girl could make a fucking t-shirt look sexy.
I waited for the waitress to take our drink orders before I reached across the table. I brushed my fingers across Holland’s pale knuckles, and then took her hand in mine.
“I’m glad your parents were willing to break the rules. Just this once.”
She smirked and cocked her head, her cheeks blushing ever so slightly. “You would have come to the house to talk to them, wouldn’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Why?” she asked with another half-smile. She turned her hand over and wrapped her fingers around mine.
She was letting me in. Just a little bit, yes, but I’d take what I could get. She hadn’t pulled her hand away, and that spoke volumes.
“I needed to see you.”
“Huh.” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and watched me. I wondered what she was thinking. I wondered if her thoughts mimicked my own.
All I could think about was kissing those perfect lips of hers.
After a few long seconds, she averted her eyes, looking back down at her menu, clearly not unaffected by the shared moment.
I wished there wasn’t a table between us right then, and I was tempted to reach across it, bring her chin up so she’d make eye contact again.
Instead, I spoke.
“So. How was school today?”
Holland made a face.
“That bad huh?”
“Well, let’s see. Cam’s ex-girlfriend, Sana, tried to convince him that dating your sister was inappropriate. She said it was nonsense and that Cam was a disgrace for dating someone like—” she paused, her eyes going wide as she watched me, “—I’m sorry. That’s probably not something I should tell Rosemarie’s big brother, is it?”
“Let me tell you something about my little sister,” I said, rubbing my thumb across her knuckles. “She’s not going to let Cam’s ex-girlfriend upset her—no matter who she is. Oprah could slander Ro and it wouldn’t bring her down. She’s, I don’t know, strong like that, I guess. And yeah, it pisses me off that some girl tried to get under her skin, but that’s just the brother in me. Ro would be irritated if I spent even half a minute thinking on it. She can take care of herself.”
“Oh. Okay, well, she definitely took care of herself…and then some.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well.” She peered up at me through thick lashes, and I could almost see an inner battle raging in her head. Could she trust me? Did she want to? I held my breath, silently begging her to open up to me again.
“Okay. Remember how I told you about the rumors? How I…”
“Yes. I remember.”
“Apparently, Leslie—that’s my ex-best friend, Rod’s new girlfriend—she’s out sick right now.”
“I’m not following.”
“Sana turned on me when she was done attacking Rosemarie and Cam. She said I made Leslie sick. Said she knew I did it.”
Holy crap. Could it be true? Could something else have happened already? Something to bring Holland under fire again? My mind reeled, playing out every scenario possible, trying to remember every dream I’d had lately. I couldn’t recall sharing any more of Holland’s dreams, but could I have somehow forgotten one? Was it possible we weren’t completely connected in that sense, and I could only see some of her dreams? Maybe I’d seen her memory of starting the beach house fire, but I hadn’t seen her poisoning her ex-best friend because something was wrong with our connection…
No. This was a simple case of some asshole high school girl being just that. An asshole. I refused to believe anything more had happened.
“Mick?”
“Sorry. I was thinking about something for work.” Work? Idiot.
Holland’s face fell, and she slowly slid her hand out of mine, placing it back in her lap and returning her attention to her menu.
Way to go. Way to show her she can trust you with anything.
“So, what do you feel like eating?”
Holland shrugged, keeping her attention on the menu.
This was not a girl that would be won over very easily. I’d really blown it by telling her I was thinking about work while she’d been spilling her guts to me about something fragile and personal. Work. What work? Saving her was the only work that mattered.
I gave her a few minutes of silence, but after the server took our orders, I tried to reach her again.
“Hey, where’d you go?” I asked.
“I’m here,” she said, her gaze glued to a TV on one of the walls.
I turned my head to see what had piqued her interest. “You like hockey?”
She kept her gaze on the game. “Huh? No. I despise hockey. It’s such a brutal sport, and…I don’t like being cold, so…you know, ice…” She shook her head, then realized her blunder. Pink heat rushed to her cheeks, and she turned her head down to stare at her lap. “Sorry. I guess I…”
She trailed off again, and I didn’t push. I’d upset her. I could eat in silence if that’s what she wanted. At least I was eating with her.
Holland
Poisoned.
That’s how Leslie got sick.
She’d been poisoned.
No wonder they thought I’d done it. No one else had a reason to poison Leslie that was better than her scorned ex-best friend’s reason.
Revenge.
To everyone else, the motive made perfect sense.
The idea made me sick to my stomach.
“Are you okay, Holl?” Mom patted my shoulder as she passed me in the kitchen. “You know she’s going to be fine, right? The doctors said she just needs a little rest. They managed to get the poison out of her system before it did any damage—aside from making her throw up.”
“Violently.”
Mom sighed. “Yes, baby, but she’ll live.”
Mom was trying to make me feel better, but there wasn’t much hope. I was worried about my ex-best friend, but there was more to my dark mood. Aside from the incident Tuesday morning, a chunk of blackened doubt in my memory that haunted me with what ifs and maybes, I knew what school would be like today. I’d been through this before. I crumpled the newspaper up and threw it at the wall. Mom didn’t even flinch at my silly outburst. She grabbed the balled up newspaper, then tossed it in the trash.
“Do you want to stay home with me today?”
Yes. “No. I can’t hide every time something bad happens.”
“But I can take the day off, and we can just lounge around the house together. Maybe have a movie marathon?”
“No, Mom. That’s okay. It’s Friday—I know you have errands with the people at the home today. You can’t miss that.”
“I can find someone to cover for me, honey. Honestly.”
“No. Really. I’m fine, Mom.” For the hundredth time, I regretted my weakness and self-abusive actions last October. Half the time, I felt like an invalid or a toddler.
“Well, honey, at least it’s Friday, like you said. After the weekend, all of this will have blown over. And if Leslie is back in school on Monday, everyone will see that she’s fine and all eyes will be off you.”
Oh, if only that were true. People hadn’t forgotten last semester’s rumors that I’d tried to torch my ex-boyfriend’s house while he and Leslie were shacking up inside, so why would this situation be any different? I already knew Sana and her cohorts thought I’d done it; what was to say everyone else wouldn’t soon agree?
“You’re sure about tonight, right, honey? I really don’t want you to miss your annual dinner at Javier’s because of this. It will be the first time we don’t celebrate—”
“Yeah, Mom, I’m sure. I just don’t feel like celebrating anything—”
The knock on the door made me jump in my seat, cutting my words off before I could finish my sentence. Who would be at our house this early? My mom’s eyes widened ever so slightly, as if wondering the same thing. Without a word, she gave a curt nod, then left the kitchen table to go answer the door. I flashed back to last October, when reporters started digging for the inside scoop and camped out on our lawn for weeks. The image of our front yard littered with discarded Starbucks cups was still fresh in my mind.
It starts.
“Hi, can I help you?” My mom’s voice carried into the kitchen, guarded and wary, and I pictured her foot on the inside of the door, keeping it from opening any more than just the width she needed to peek through.
“Oh! Hi, yes, she’s here. Come on in.”
What? Who could it be?
My mom reappeared in the doorway to the kitchen, a wide grin pulling at her mouth.
“Holland, honey, there’s a boy here to see you. He says his name is Mick?”
I shot out of the chair like it had shocked me, and the wooden legs scraped against the floor. I reached back and steadied it just a second before it crashed to the hardwood and announced my panic.
“What?”
“Shh, lower your voice, honey. He’s just in the living room. Is that the one?”
I stared at her, eyes wide and mouth agape. All I could do was blink at her in response. What on Earth was Mick doing here? At my house!
“So it is him. He’s cute, Holl!”
“Shh! Mom! He’ll hear you!”
My mom laughed, as if that wouldn’t be the worst thing on earth, and then walked out of the room, leaving me with just my thundering heartbeat for company. Within seconds I heard her speaking with him once more, and before I could manage to even move, she’d brought him into the kitchen.
“I’ll be upstairs getting ready for work, Holland. It was nice to meet you, Mick.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you, as well, Mrs. Briggs.”
“Oh, call me Grace, Mick.” Mom smiled wildly at me as she left the room.
I realized I should close my mouth, and did so without making any snapping sounds, thank God. After that, though, I didn’t know what else to do. Mick stood in my kitchen, looking downright beautiful, and I couldn’t even form coherent thoughts, let alone words.
Damn. And after I’d done such a good job blowing him off.
I scoffed, and a quick snort broke the silence. My eyes widened. Mortified. Mortified. Mortified.
“Hey.” He spoke first, kindly taking the pressure from me, even though his smirk was in response to my awesome snort.
“Hey,” I responded, trying to pull myself out of my stupor. “Um, what are you doing here?”
He crossed the room, closing the distance between us and almost made me gasp. Personal space! Personal space! My mind reeled from the closeness of him but I couldn’t bring myself to move. Lightly scented cologne tickled my nose, teasing my senses and tempting me to lean into him and inhale the musky fragrance. He wore a black beanie today, and a black jacket over an army green t-shirt and jeans. I couldn’t see what else he was wearing because my eyes wouldn’t leave his gaze.
He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and it felt like all t
he cells in my body rushed to the spot his fingertips had brushed on my cheek.
Mayday! Mayday!
“Are you okay?”
My brow crinkled. Am I okay? Why would he ask that?
His eyebrows rose, and he waved a hand in front of my face.
Oh. Because I was staring at him like a crazy person. I shook my head. Un parfait imbécile. “Yeah, I’m fine, why?” I shrugged, trying to act like I hadn’t totally eyed him like a crazed fan.
“Ro told me about what happened to Leslie. I guess I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
“Oh. That.”
“Yeah, that.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and backed up a foot or so. “So, since school is going to suck for you today, I was thinking…do you want to ditch and hang out?”
“With you?” I hadn’t meant for it to sound like I thought it was such a shocking idea, but the words were already out there.
He laughed. “Yeah, with me. Is that such a terrible idea?”
“No! No, I mean—” Gah! Control yourself! “—Yeah, actually, I do want to ditch today.” Was it really ditching if my mom already offered me the option of staying home? I’d go with no.
“Cool. So, since its February, do you want to maybe, um…put some warmer clothes on?”
Oh, God. I looked down at my pajamas—pajamas!—and couldn’t believe my luck. Why hadn’t my mom told me to go change before bringing him in here? Pink pajama pants with the Paul Frank monkey face all over them, and a matching tank top with a hole in it, did not a sexy impression make. I closed my eyes, counted to ten as I inhaled and exhaled a deep breath, then excused myself to go change.
“I’ll be here,” he said with a smirk, as he took a seat at the giant eight-person pub-table in the kitchen.
I ran into my mom on my way up the stairs.
“Mom! Why did you do that to me? Look at me!”
“Oh, honey, I love your monkey-jams. You’re adorable.” She patted my cheek, as if adorable would be good enough to placate me.
“This is not okay, Mom. Not okay.”
She laughed and headed down the stairs on her way to work. “Have fun today, honey! And don’t worry about school; I’ll call in your absence. And, trust me, by the time you go back on Monday, all will be forgotten.”
