I crossed my arms. “You know how to dance at a school function or at a party, or whatever it is kids do these days.”
He stopped backtracking and started laughing. “Kids these days? How old are you? Ninety?”
I ignored him. “I’m just saying…”
“I thought I was just going as your escort, or whatever.” He used his good hand to scratch at the back of his head. “We’ll all go, you, me, Trevor, Blake…Eleanor.”
I didn’t miss the way he faltered before saying her name. Was he still heartbroken? Was that it? I wanted to ask, but I wouldn’t.
I honestly didn’t know if I could take hearing his answer.
It shouldn’t matter to me, but it did.
And I hated that.
If I were smart I’d back out of this deal right here and now. If I were smart I’d just suck it up and go to the dance event on my own. I could do it. It wasn’t like I’d never gone to one of these things alone before. It just made it harder, that was all. It wasn’t easy to find people who wanted to partner with you when you were standing on the sidelines like an old-school wallflower.
I crossed my arms and sized up the guy in front of me. Then again… “Having a dance partner does me no good at all if he can’t summon up the balls to dance with me.”
He widened his eyes and slapped a hand over his chest. “Was that a challenge?”
It was my turn to smirk. “I just think you need to put your money where your mouth is. Weren’t you the one who’d said he’d make swing dancing cool?”
He sputtered a bit. “And I did. You saw the way everyone got on board. They’re all going. One of them will dance with you. I’d bet Ryan just loves that kind of—” He stopped himself, clamping his mouth shut before he could insult my favorite pastime any further.
I could guess what he’d been about to say. Nothing complimentary, of that I was certain. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”
He glanced down at his sling. “I can’t. How could I dance with my arm like this?”
I frowned. It was true that only having the use of one arm would cripple us—figuratively speaking—but there were workarounds. “I don’t need you to be good,” I said. “I just need you to know a few basic steps so you can take me out on the dancefloor. I’ll handle the rest.”
He didn’t look impressed by my answer. “I’ll look like an idiot.”
I pursed my lips as I thought of how best to respond. “Then I’ll look that much better by comparison,” I said. “Some lovely guy will take pity on me for having a lame partner and your job will be done.”
His frown deepened into a scowl and my heart skipped a beat.
Damn it. Why did he have to look hot while frowning? That just wasn’t fair.
Spinning around, I launched into an impromptu dance class in the middle of the hallway, while wearing my candy striper uniform and ignoring the fact that the student in question was likely shooting daggers into my back with his eyes as I repeated the same basic step over and over until even a small child would be able to replicate it.
I spun back around. “Got it?”
I didn’t give him chance to answer before grabbing his good hand in mine and placing my other hand gently against the back of his neck. I’d normally place that hand on his shoulder but I didn’t want to hurt him. So instead… I swallowed the thick knot of tension that threatened to choke me. I tried to ignore that clean, lovely male scent of his. I tried not to notice how hot his skin was beneath my hand.
“Come on,” I urged. “Do it with me.”
He gave a weary sigh but after a second he did it.
Lucas danced.
With me.
In an empty hallway.
It. Was. Magic.
And clearly I’d gone too long without dancing with a partner because my heady joy was totally out of proportion to the moment. While he got the moves right, our dance was also awkward as all hell. I had to lead, and the lack of one critical limb did nothing to help matters. But after a few more minutes of trying, I smiled up at him in triumph. “You’re doing it!”
He stopped dancing but he didn’t drop my hand. His lips were doing that thing again. That quivering thing like he was smothering a smile. Even his earlier irritation was tempered by amusement as he met my gaze. “You don’t have to sound so shocked,” he said. “I am an athlete, remember?”
I rolled my eyes. “As if I could forget.” I tugged my hand from his and smacked his good shoulder. “See? You’re not going to look like a spastic gorilla on the dance floor, after all.”
He arched a brow. “I never said I would.”
“Oh.” I pretended to think it over. “I guess I was the only one thinking it.”
He let out a sound that was half snort of laughter, half sigh of exasperation, and all adorable. The sound was surprisingly genuine. “I’m still going to feel ridiculous,” he said.
I shrugged. “And I’m going to feel ridiculous going to a New Year’s party where I’m not wanted.”
He frowned. “I want you there.”
I toyed with the hem of my cardigan, trying not to hyperventilate as my lungs expanded and my heart danced to a salsa beat. I want you there. He’d sounded so serious, and his gaze had gotten all intense.
I tried to laugh it off but I was too flustered. “Well, yeah,” I said. “But that’s because you need me.”
He stared at me for so long I had to look away. “Do you seriously not want to go or are you just afraid that you won’t fit in?”
The question threw me off guard and did nothing to help this flustered, frazzled sensation that was making my brain short-circuit. “I’m not afraid,” I said, sounding way more defensive than I would’ve liked. “But I won’t fit in. That’s just the way it is.”
I expected him to say something mocking. Tease me or make fun of me. But his gaze remained super serious and impossible to read. He studied me, his gaze never leaving mine. “You don’t want to fit in.”
He said it like a fact, like a condemnation. I straightened, an old anger I thought I’d buried coming out of some hidden space inside me. “I don’t fit in,” I said. “I never have.” I forced a shrug. “Why would I want to?”
He didn’t answer. That oddly fun, lighthearted moment where we’d danced together was rapidly becoming a distant memory. Had that even happened? Because for a second there it had felt like we’d been friends. But now? Now we were still standing close, still facing one another, but there might as well have been a bottomless chasm between us.
We were on opposite sides of…something.
I didn’t like the way he was watching me. It was too intimate, too knowing. “Look,” I said, trying to quell my own anger and diffuse the tension. “I’m not saying I won’t go, all right? I know the deal. I’ll go and I’ll play the part of your doting girlfriend, but don’t expect me to fit in, that’s all.” When he didn’t immediately reply, I added, “It’s just not my cup of tea.”
He puckered his lips, his gaze still studying me. “You think you’re too good for us,” he finally said.
I stiffened. “I never said that.”
He smirked and I wanted to smack that smile off his lips. “But it’s what you think.”
“I don’t…” I let out a huff of air. Because, okay, yeah. I wasn’t good at lying to myself, and it was possible he had a point. “Fine. I don’t think highly of people who act like lemmings just to be popular.”
He arched his brows, jerking back slightly as he rocked on his heels. Clearly he hadn’t expected honesty. But that was exactly my point. “It’s all so…so…false,” I said. “Everyone listening to the same music, wearing the same clothes, going to the same parties and liking the same people.”
I should stop. I wanted to stop, but my mouth was already opening. Words were already spilling out. “Every guy wants to be just like you. Every girl wants to have you. Have you ever thought to ask why? I mean, it’s not like you’re some great guy. You’re a cocky jerk who only cares ab
out football and winning back a girl who doesn’t want him just because she’s pretty and popular.”
I stopped talking when I ran out of breath and my next inhale was filled with regret.
I watched his chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath. I waited for him to lose his cool. I’d just outright insulted him and his friends. I’d been harsh. Mean.
I was never mean…except to this guy. He pushed my buttons, and I couldn’t not push back. Some demon inside me that I thought was gone forever seemed to rear up in the face of his arrogant smug face.
His brows lowered, his eyes turned icy, but just when I thought he would yell…he didn’t.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said evenly. “I mean, I wouldn’t say everyone is fake all the time, but yeah—maybe not everyone is honest every moment of the day. Maybe sometimes my friends and I like to fit in, or maybe our tastes are just similar.” He eyed me from head to toe with a hint of a sneer. “Not all of us are seeking out ways to be different just for the sake of being different.”
I inhaled quickly, his words hitting me square in the chest. “I don’t—” I started. But he cut me off before I could finish.
“Maybe you don’t realize it, but if we’re psychoanalyzing one another over here, I’d say you just want to be different so you can feel superior.” He took a step closer. “But it doesn’t make you better than the rest of us, Lola. It just makes you different.”
He was so close he was nearly touching me. We were standing closer than we had when we’d danced together. I should’ve backed away, but I couldn’t. I was mesmerized by those eyes that seemed to look right through me.
“I’ll tell you what I think, Lola,” he said quietly. “I think you’re hiding.”
I blinked up at him, honest surprise jarring me out of the hypnotic trance he’d had over me. “What? What are you talking about?”
He looked me over meaningfully, his eyes touching on my hair, my glasses, all the way down to my shoes. “You’re hiding behind these clothes, your hair.”
“I’m not hiding.” My voice came out breathy and weak and he ignored my protest as he backed away.
“I’ll be at Blake’s tonight if you want to come.” He shoved his free hand in his pocket. “I hope you do.”
I blinked at him, unsure of what that meant. I hope you do. “I promised I’d play along,” I started, but he shook his head.
“No, if you come, come because you want to.” His gaze met mine and his anger seemed to have disappeared. The coldness was gone but his expression was no less intense. “I can make up an excuse if you don’t come, but I want you there.”
I swallowed as he turned around and walked away. There it was again. I want you there. Almost as if…almost like…
The idea was ludicrous. He didn’t like me, not like that. To think it was just as crazy as his accusations.
Me, hiding?
Hardly.
I stewed over his words as I changed into my normal clothes. My polka dotted vintage dress was the opposite of a disguise. I checked out my reflection. I stood out, if anything. I was a beacon in the sea of bland.
Right?
By the time I got home from the hospital I was in a foul mood. Lucas’s words wouldn’t stop nagging at me and his judgy gaze was haunting me in my mind’s eye.
I found my grandfather alone at the kitchen table and sat down to join him.
“Cereal?” he asked. He had an unnatural love of cereal and ate the stuff any time, morning, noon, or night.
I shook my head. “No, thanks.”
He studied me over his bowl. “Any big plans tonight?”
I shook my head.
“What about with that boy of yours?”
I frowned over at him. “You know he’s not really mine.”
I might’ve let my mother believe whatever she wanted to believe about me and Lucas, but I’d made sure Grandpa knew the truth.
He just tilted his head from side to side in a non-committal gesture that did nothing to soothe my irritation. “We’re just using each other,” I said, trying and failing to keep the sharpness from my tone.
My grandfather’s expression was deceptively mild. “Whatever you say, Dolly.”
I peered at him. “What is it you’re trying to say, Grandpa?”
He grinned. “That’s my girl. Always cutting to the chase.”
I arched a brow and he shrugged, chuckling under his breath. “You’ve just seemed…happy lately.”
Happy? Hardly. I’d been distracted and out of my element and—
“Maybe not happy,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he appeared to look for the word he wanted. “Alive.” He snapped his fingers. “That’s it. You seem more alive than ever lately.”
Alive? “I’ve always been alive, Grandpa,” I said, my tone flat. “Ever since I was born.”
He laughed and waved a hand. “You know what I mean. It’s good to see you getting out there, joining the human race.”
I stared at him for a moment, mulling over his words as that dull, distant nagging sensation intensified inside me to the point where I couldn’t ignore it anymore.
“Grandpa, do you think I hide from life?”
He arched his brows. “I think you are one of the bravest people I know.”
I scowled. “That’s not an answer.”
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I think you’ve done what you’ve had to do to get by. You’ve found what makes you happy, and that takes courage.”
“But,” I said, because it was lingering there, unspoken.
He smiled gently. “But it’s been nice to see you come off the sidelines.”
We sat there in companionable silence for a while as I thought over what he said, what Lucas had said, and what that nagging feeling inside me was trying to say.
Damn it, why couldn’t I be one of those people who lied to themselves?
After a while, I pushed my chair back from the table with a sigh.
“Where are you going?” Grandpa asked.
“I have to get ready for a party.”
Chapter Nine
Lucas
The party was lame.
Blake’s house was packed with our classmates. Music blared from speakers so loudly that it was just a matter of time before the cops showed. Everyone around me was laughing and drinking and dancing…and I was bored out of my mind.
“Hey man, where’s Lola?” a senior from the football team asked. Word had spread quickly that I was dating the new girl.
If one more person asked me that I was going to punch them in the throat. This kid was spared, but only because he was on my team. “She had some family stuff to take care of.” I gave him a rueful smile that said “girls, man, what are you gonna do?”
It wasn’t a great excuse but no one asked more questions. Just vague enough to be true and boring enough to be believable.
“Lola couldn’t make it?” a familiar voice said.
I spun around to find Eleanor hovering behind me.
Eleanor, looking pretty as ever in a shiny little cocktail dress. She and Blake had both dressed to the nines, like we were at some club in New York and not the suburban home of Blake’s parents.
I hadn’t seen her arrive, which was weird since I’d been staring at the door most of the night, but I’d caught sight of her clustered up with her buddies, drinking and laughing.
I opened my mouth to give her the line I’d just given my teammate, but she beat me to it. “Ryan couldn’t make it either.”
I was left standing there with my mouth open. I guessed I was waiting for…something. Some sort of emotion to bubble up at this news, or at the fact that Eleanor was standing here in front of me—alone and beautiful on a night that all but demanded kisses.
I got nothing.
“His family went up to Boston to visit family,” she said, as if I’d asked. As if I’d cared.
“Yeah, well, Lola…” I opened my mouth to lie to Eleanor but instead just faded off. Sure I’d been
lying to her nonstop about having a girlfriend, but tonight I just couldn’t bring myself to add one more lie to the mix.
What was the point? Lola wasn’t here, that was all that mattered.
Besides, it seemed Eleanor didn’t need an explanation. “I’m happy for you.”
I blinked at her. “Excuse me?” I was standing there—alone, bored, with a lame arm in a sling, staring at a door for a girl who wouldn’t arrive. What exactly was she so happy about?
She seemed to read my mind. Maybe she had—the girl had known me longer than anyone and I wasn’t exactly deep or complicated. What was it Lola had called me the other day in her text? Oh yeah, a plastic Ken doll come to life.
I’d told her she was clearly harboring some sick Barbie fantasies if she’d kissed a Ken doll the way she had. I’d been rewarded by a vomiting emoji in return.
I found my lips twitching up now despite myself, and found Eleanor smiling beside me like I’d just made her point. “She’s good for you,” she said, giving my uninjured arm a little nudge.
A friendly nudge.
It was a nudge that said “hey, buddy.”
I nudged her right back because it felt right. Natural. Normal. To try and make a move on her right now felt wrong. We were both supposed to be here with other people, and even though they weren’t here, it just…wouldn’t be right.
Oh hell. What was going on here? Either I was growing a conscience or Eleanor’s sweetness was contagious.
She’s good for you. Eleanor's words grated on me. She's good for you.
She’s good for me? What did that mean. I hated how freakin’ condescending that sounded.
“You were good for me,” I said.
Eleanor blinked rapidly at my harsh tone. And for the millionth time that week, I wanted to kick myself. It seemed like I was always hurting her. Always hurting Lola. I was always hurting someone I cared about.
She recovered quickly and surprised me by smiling. “No,” she said slowly. “I enabled you. There’s a difference.”
Now it was my turn to stare in shock. “Come again?”
She laughed softly with a rueful humor. “You heard me. I enabled you. I…” She shook her head. “I never challenged you, I never gave you a hard time. I smiled and made excuses for you when you were rude, I never made demands of you…” She nudged my shoulder. “I let you get away with murder.”
The Candy Cane Kiss: Briarwood High Series Page 10
