by Meg Jolie
“I haven’t noticed,” I admitted with a grimace.
“She is,” Jamie said decisively. “I know she was chatty while you were here, because she was teasing you about Tristan,” she said with an eye-roll. “But before that, she was really quiet.”
“Did you ask her about it?” I wondered.
Jamie nodded. “She acted like nothing is wrong. And maybe it’s not,” she said with an unconvinced looking shrug. “But that’s why I wanted to ask you if you’d noticed anything.”
“I haven’t. But I haven’t really been paying attention,” I finally admitted. “But I will. I’ll try to talk to her, too.”
Jamie was satisfied with that response. “So,” she began with a questioning look, “how do you feel about your mom going away for the weekend?”
“Honestly?” I said as I crinkled up my face. “It’s kind of weird. But she seems really happy. So I’m happy for her.”
“Have you met him yet?” Jamie wondered. I’d told her I was going to mention it to my mom.
“Not yet. But with the way things are going, I wouldn’t be surprised if I met him soon. You know, I hope things work out for her. When I move out this fall, she’ll be all alone in that big house. I don’t want that for her. If this guy keeps making her happy, maybe she won’t be alone by then.”
“You really think they’re that serious?” Jamie demanded.
“Maybe not yet. But you know, that’s still half a year away. And if things keep going the way they seem to be going…then yeah,” I decided. “I guess maybe we’ll just have to see how this weekend goes.”
“You know, if you want to stay here tonight, you can,” she offered.
“Thanks. But I’m—”
“In the middle of a fabulous book that you had to force yourself to put down so that you could come over,” she interjected with a laugh. “I know. But if you happen to decide to take a break tomorrow, Tristan and I are watching some movies. You can come on over then if you want to.”
“Yeah, he already invited me,” I told her.
“He did.” It came out as more of a statement than a question. She didn’t sound too happy about my admission. Nor did she seem at all surprised.
“Is that okay?” I carefully asked her.
She nodded; trying to make it look like it wasn’t a big deal. “Sure. It’s fine. He probably knew I’d invite you anyway. I mean, it’s not like he meant anything by it.” I didn’t realize she was waiting for an answer until she said, “Right?”
“Right,” I agreed in surprise.
“I mean, he knows I’m planning on being home. So I hope you didn’t read more into that than what was there.” Her tone was light. The way she was looking at me was a whole lot more intense.
Her comment annoyed me, though I told myself it shouldn’t have.
“I know that. He said you’d be here. It’s not like he’s never asked me to do things with you guys before,” I pointed out. Over the years, with them just living four houses away, it was inevitable. He’d included me in their plans just like I’d included him on occasion. “So why are you so bothered by this?”
“I’m not bothered,” she said innocently.
I didn’t believe her. I looked at her with raised eyebrows. Willing her to elaborate.
“Okay,” she admitted as the silence drug out. “Maybe I am bothered. It’s just that the last few weeks…you two…” She couldn’t seem to finish her sentence. Or maybe she just didn’t want to.
“We what?” I asked. We hadn’t done anything wrong. Or anything Jamie could even conceive as wrong. I was sure of it.
She hesitated before finally blurting out, “You’ve been flirting. I mean, I know he’s always tried to flirt with you. But you never flirted back before. Now you do. And it’s weird! It makes me uncomfortable and I don’t like it. I want you to stop.” She blinked at me. As if she was surprised she’d admitted all of that.
Flirting? I wasn’t sure about that. I was pretty sure I didn’t know how to flirt.
I let out a little half-laugh. “I have not been flirting. But would it be so bad if I did?” I asked. “I’m just wondering. I mean, not that I’m interested. I’m just curious.”
I was pretty sure that was true.
“Yes,” she said with a decisive nod. “There’s a whole school full of guys. There’s no reason for you to be interested in Tristan. I mean, unless you just want to go after him because he’d be a sure thing.”
A sure thing? Maybe. But that was irrelevant.
“I’m not going after him,” I said with a little laugh. Because I wasn’t. I hadn’t done anything of the sort. I mean, I’d helped him make whipped cream. But it wasn’t like I hadn’t helped him with things before.
“Are you sure?” she asked. “You looked kind of cozy on the piano bench yesterday.”
“He plays for me all the time. I always sit there!” I argued.
“Exactly. Only yesterday, you looked like you were enjoying it more than usual,” she accused.
I shook my head, unsure of what to say. Had she been standing in the doorway before I noticed her? When Tristan had his arm around me? But that was innocent enough. I was cold. He was just trying to warm me up. I realized it might have looked like something else.
“So there’s nothing going on?” she wanted to know.
“Why would there be anything going on?” I asked sweetly. “Didn’t you tell me just the other day that he’s not really interested in me?”
She folded her arms and raised her eyebrows at me.
“No,” I told her with a sigh. Other than he’d asked me to the dance. But since he’d pretty much taken it back, it didn’t count. “There’s nothing going on with us.”
“You’re sure?”
“Jamie,” I scoffed, “I’m sure.”
“Good,” she said. “Make sure you keep it that way.”
5
After leaving the Jacobs’ I was feeling guilty. If something was bothering Willow, I should’ve noticed. She had been there for me when Corey turned me into a pathetic mess. If she needed me, for anything, I wanted to be there to help support her. I was feeling pretty awful, berating myself for being a self-absorbed friend. So I vowed to pay more attention and to actually do something about it.
The next afternoon, I called her. I was hoping maybe she would come over. I’d be willing to give up having the quiet house to myself. If it meant spending some time with her, to see if something really was going on. If she agreed, I’d planned on inviting Jamie over, too. It had been a while since we’d had a girls only weekend.
But Willow already had plans with our friend Krista. I’d kept her on the phone for a while, trying to figure out a subtle way of asking what was wrong. And listening intently in case she hinted at anything. She never did. We hung up with the agreement we’d see each other on Sunday at Common Grounds. It was our favorite little coffee shop and the three of us had made a habit of meeting there every Sunday afternoon. Last year, when we’d all been busy with boyfriends, we’d set that time aside for just us. It had kind of stuck and was now more or less our routine.
With no plans until then I decided to go with my original plan and take advantage of the total silence in my house.
I was annoyed when my phone announced an incoming text.
I was only annoyed because the text was from my dad. Considering he claimed to want to see me so badly, I was expecting a call. And while I didn’t want to talk to him, I was frustrated that he’d sent a text instead. It just seemed to be yet another reminder that he was about appearances. That he was simply keeping up the pretense that he wanted to see me. When really? I was sure that all he ever really wanted was an easy way out.
The message did ask if we could get together. But not until the following weekend. It didn’t seem to me that he wanted to see me nearly as badly as he wanted my mom to believe. Not if he couldn’t make time for me before then.
I didn’t let myself wonder what he was doing that had him too busy
to see me. Or at least, I didn’t let myself wonder for too long. Because it was yet another reminder that there was something, or someone, more important to him, more worthy of his time, than I was.
I didn’t bother responding.
Mom, however, had already called twice. She sounded happy and relaxed. And if I was going to go for full honesty, full disclosure, I would have to say she sounded very much in love.
And I was happy for her. Jamie’s grandparents lived in Tampa. Sometime last year, Jamie, Willow and I had firmed up plans to move there. We all wanted to go away to college. Her grandparents had suggested Tampa, so at least we’d have someone close by if needed. Or somewhere to go for Sunday dinners. Our own parents had liked the idea. If we were going out of state, they were glad we were going somewhere where there was still someone to watch over us.
I was excited for that. And yet, the last few months I’d started to worry about my mom. I didn’t like to think of her all alone.
But now? I’d started to think, to hope that maybe she wouldn’t be alone.
I wondered if maybe I should tell her I was ready to meet this guy. Some worrisome little feeling kept niggling away at me though. If it was Heidi Sandstrom’s dad, I just wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
Before break, Mr. Gallagher had seemed a little too friendly. If she was seeing him, I really didn’t want to know.
*~*~*
I couldn’t help but think I should worry a little less about the carbon imprint I was leaving on this earth. And that I should worry a little more about the state of my hair. This time of year, it might be worth warming up my car to drive a ridiculously short distance. The air was frigid because the wind had picked up. The weather had turned unexpectedly nasty. Icy chunks of sleet bit at my face while the frigid air gnawed away at the rest of my body.
“Ridiculous or not, I’m driving from now on.” I was muttering to myself as I quickly covered the distance. My cheeks were so cold they were already numb. My teeth were chattering and I felt chilled all the way to my bones.
As I let myself into the Jacobs’ home, my hair was nothing short of a disaster upon my head. The wind had whipped it shamelessly and wildly into some crazy, tangled mess twisting it around my face. I sputtered as I spit a strand out of my mouth. My mitten covered hands quickly tried to brush a few more errant strands out of my eyes.
When I could see again, I realized Tristan was standing there. His gaze was amused as he moved toward me. He leaned forward, brushing away a chunk that was still hanging over my eyes. He slid it aside until my face was free of the curtain of blond waves.
“You look so beautiful,” he said in a completely unassuming tone. The same tone he would’ve used had he said, “You have snow in your hair.” But he didn’t say that. He didn’t say I had snow in my hair, which I did. He told me I was beautiful, which in that windblown, rosy-cheeked moment, I found hard to believe.
So there I stood with my hands up in the air, my mittens freezing onto the snow in my hair. And he kept walking like he hadn’t said anything earth shattering.
Leaving me gaping after him.
And more surprising even than what he said was the way my heart had unpredictably somersaulted in my chest. That had never happened before. At least, not because of Tristan. I stood frozen, staring at his retreating back. Fighting the urge to follow him. So I could tackle him.
Or something.
I wasn’t even sure.
Luckily for me, Jamie came bouncing down the stairs before I had a chance to find out.
“Why are you just standing there?” she asked curiously.
Music started floating down the hallway. Tristan was at the piano again. He was not playing Moonlight Sonata. I resisted pointing that out to Jamie, proving her wrong. He didn’t always play it for me. Instead, I peeled my ice-pelted mittens off.
“Too cold to move?” I tried. It was a reasonable excuse.
“I’ll drive you home,” she offered. Then added, “Perfect timing. My parents just left. They won’t be home until late. If you want to just stay here after the movie, you can.”
“I might,” I told her. Going back to my house by myself, that late at night, really didn’t have a lot of appeal.
I followed her into the kitchen. She pulled a bag of microwave popcorn out of the cupboard along with a huge bowl. She listed off the movies they’d gotten and we picked one neither of us had seen. Truthfully, Jamie actually picked it. It was a sappy romance; an emotional, romantic chick-flick. The kind of movie Tristan would definitely not be interested in. I had to wonder if she’d decided on that one on purpose.
“I invited Willow,” she said as she tossed the bag in the microwave. “But she’s going over to Krista’s tonight.”
“I know. I talked to her, too.” She had seemed fine to me. But maybe Jamie was more perceptive than I was. It was very possible.
The popcorn finished popping and she took the bag out. “You don’t want any, do you?” she asked with a smirk. “I can get you your own bowl.”
At some point in my life I read an article about the dangerous chemicals in microwave popcorn. The article probably wasn’t even true but the mental damage was done. It stuck in my head. And since I had an innate, intense, aversion to all things potentially cancer-causing, I’ve never looked at it with the same hunger again.
In fact, when Jamie opened the bag to take a big whiff of the deliciously scented, cancer causing toxins that permeated the buttery scent; it was all I could do to not hold her back. Because she wouldn’t appreciate it. I have found this out the hard way.
So instead, I tried to keep my distance.
“No thanks,” I told her as she dumped out the bag.
I followed her downstairs and she got the movie started.
She and her dangerous bowl of popcorn settled into her dad’s recliner. This left me with the couch all to myself.
We were not that far into the movie when I heard the distinctive sound of an air popper. It was followed by the unmistakable sound of popcorn popping away. Jamie let out a snort of good-natured disgust and rolled her eyes when I glanced at her.
I flicked my gaze away, ignoring her.
A few minutes later, Tristan appeared with another big bowl, just like Jamie’s.
He did it. He made me popcorn. Not the microwave junk but the real thing. With real butter, loaded with fat. But at least not full of chemicals. He flopped down on the couch next to me, close enough that our thighs were touching. He placed the bowl on both our laps.
“Thanks,” I told him.
He just shrugged and took a handful.
I was possibly still chilled from being outside. Tristan’s shoulder felt so warm next to mine. I felt myself instinctively leaning into him. That was probably a mistake.
It was not the first time I’d sat next to Tristan while watching a movie before. It was the first time I had trouble paying attention to a movie because I was sitting next to him. I had an almost unbearable urge to turn to face him.
I ignored it as I ate handful after handful of popcorn.
When it was gone, he leaned forward and placed the bowl on the floor. As he settled back in, I’d told myself that I should back away. It would be a good time because he wouldn’t notice. It didn’t work out that way. Whether on purpose or not, he adjusted himself so that our shoulders were still touching.
I could feel his eyes searing into me. I knew he checked me out sometimes. It was never a big deal so I always ignored it. But now, when he was in such close proximity, it was a little hard to ignore. So, when I couldn’t ignore it any longer, I finally turned my head to face him. His eyes were eating up the sight of my neck of all things.
I’d found a ponytail holder in my pocket. My windblown mess of hair was pulled up, leaving my neck bare. When I turned to him, his eyes started wandering slowly upwards. They took a prolonged detour as they paused on my lips for a few moments before traveling upward to my eyes.
Jamie had turned the lights off but the dismal
glow from the enormous television screen was more than enough to see by.
If this were a scene from the movie we were supposed to be watching, it would be the part where they stare into each other’s eyes as they are slowly, magnetically drawn together. There would be soft music playing in the background. But since it wasn’t…I just sat there. Gazing back, aware but unable to care that neither of us were moving.
I should have looked away then. Or he should have. But neither of us did. Not for several long, drawn out seconds that felt longer than any seconds should have a right to. Then it was me who finally looked away. But I didn’t look far. I felt my eyes taking a similar journey, downward. Until they landed on his lips. At the simple sight of them, my heartbeat fluttered.
Tristan always smelled like mint. He and Jamie shared a bathroom. I happened to have seen that he uses mint body wash and mint shampoo. But he chews gum too and suddenly, I was curious as to what flavor he prefers. So curious, in fact, that I inexplicably wanted to lean over so I could find out.
“Hey!” Jamie exclaimed.
I wasn’t sure if we both jumped at the sound of her voice. Or if it was just me.
When I redirected my gaze, she was looking at us with raised eyebrows.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said. Her voice was oozing sarcasm. She waved her phone at us. “Willow just sent a text. Krista’s parents are gone and she decided to have a few people over. She wants us to come.”
“Oh,” I said. Now that Jamie was staring at us, I tried to discreetly scoot away from Tristan. She made a face that let me know that she realized exactly what I was doing.
“Corey’s there. Alone,” she said as she pasted on a sugary smile. Oddly, she was looking at Tristan, not me when she said it.
“I don’t care,” I told her. I’d lost track of how many times I’d said that in regard to Corey the last few weeks. Strange enough, I found I meant it. I really, truly meant it this time. I felt a small smile spread across my face at the realization.
My eyes darted to Tristan and his brow furrowed. Ugh. I hoped he didn’t think I was smiling because Corey was going to be there. He couldn’t be more wrong. Yet the way his expression suddenly became unreadable made me think that’s exactly what he thought. When he scooted away from me, it really left no doubt.
