Lidia makes a noise which is a cross between a snort and a hacky cough. “Mother says that’s how people get fat.” She lowers her tone and mumbles, “Just look at your mom.”
“Excuse me?” So her mother, who resembles a sick-looking pencil, makes comments about my mom, who is healthy. She’s not thick, but she doesn’t have a six-pack either. My mom is a size five; since when is that fat?
I continue to glare at Lidia. She flips back a piece of hair. “Whatever, you know what I mean.” For some reason, I let her walk out of the room. A part of me doesn’t want to. The doorbell chimes.
Lidia calls out, “I got it!” Not a full second passes before she’s squealing. “Sarah!”
I can hear the two of them heading down the hallway toward Lidia’s room, which is near the kitchen. Sarah, a short blond with a bob haircut, sneers at me. Lidia giggles. “I know, right? She’s so embarrassing.” She looks back at me with a smirk before entering her room. “The hottest guy in our school is about to pick you up in less than five minutes. Go do yourself a favor and change your clothes.” She casts her narrow stare up and down my body. “God knows he won’t want to be seen with you looking like that.”
I grit my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut. This is temporary. In six months, I will graduate from this hellish place and be able to move back into Brian and mom’s place. Screw Columbia. I’ll go to community college in Ohio if I have to. I won’t have to subject myself to my visits with Dad. If we must see each other and his love child, then fine, it’ll be on my terms.
The doorbell is going off again. I ignore it, hoping whoever’s there will go away. My wish isn’t granted. Malcom is soon laughing and stalking his way into the kitchen. “Well, this won’t do.”
I study him. He’s dressed in a dark, long-sleeved, button-down shirt and khakis. He looks overly dressed for a stupid school party, but I guess that’s how these functions are. I mean, whatever is the matter with t-shirts and jeans? With a scowl, I respond, “Well, that’s too bad ’cause this is what you’re getting.”
He shrugs. “Okay. But I thought my date was going to be a little hotter.”
“Oh, did you not get the memo? I don’t dress like I’m working a corner. And last time I checked, this was not a date.” I smile in spite of my aching insides.
He shakes his head and grabs my hand, pulling me out of the kitchen. “I guess we’ll be on our way then.”
If I had any sense, I wouldn’t let him take me to this party. But I don’t stop him. He and I are walking out the front door and to a black town car. I look over at him and laugh. “What is this?”
“This would be our ride.”
This reminds me of Sex and the City and Mr. Big is picking me up. Suddenly this feels too much like a date, and I start to feel jittery and a need to leave again. But Malcom has a good grip on my arm and pulls me toward the open door of the sedan. He tips his head at the tall guy dressed in a butler getup in the front seat.
I feel queasy as Malcom coaxes me into the car and then motions for me to scoot over. I should scoot out the other passenger door and run. But I agreed to this. Sort of. And maybe this will help my chest quit aching, or at least keep me from calling Caleb back and telling him my mind wasn’t right earlier. Because I’ve been debating with myself all morning whether or not to do just that, and I even went so far as to hide my cell. That probably wasn’t my brightest idea, ’cause the damn thing will probably be dead when I get back. Or I might end up needing it in order to bail on this so-called awesome party.
Sometimes, even I doubt my intelligence. I really do find myself in some seriously messed up situations, and the sad part? I put myself in them.
Shaking my head at my own thoughts, my eyes rest on the sights that pass us by. City lights, busy streets, people dressed in funky clothes like gold backpacks complete with bedazzled handles. It’s odd when the person sporting the bag is in their thirties, not in junior high or elementary school.
Malcom mumbles something, but I’m not paying attention so I ask, “Huh?”
“I said, would you like something to eat before we go to the party? There’s a great place I know just around the corner.”
I shrug. Food might be nice. I can’t remember the last time real food entered my mouth. Lunch at school is all processed, nasty stuff and at Dad’s it’s nothing but diet-this, diet-that crap. South Beach Diet meals—some new junk someone bought from a TV commercial. And when there’s literally nothing else to eat, you try stuff. Let’s just say my taste buds never want me to do that again.
Of course, I guess I never really noticed all the times I visited how no one in the house cooks. Or that my dad frequently insisted on going out to eat. He’s always had a tendency to buy affection, so that’s probably why I didn’t notice this sooner. “I need to go grocery shopping,” I mumble.
“What?” Malcom asks.
“Hmmm?”
“You said you need to go grocery shopping.” I don’t respond so he shakes his head. “You like pasta, right?”
I nod. “Who doesn’t?”
He grimaces. “You’d be surprised. I took this one girl out and she went all crazy when I tried to take her out for Italian. She hated pasta, said the texture of noodles made her think of worms. Then she gagged. She hated cheese, for fear she’d choke. It was pretty much the worse date ever.”
“Sounds like it.” He guides me out of the car and into a small bistro. I look down at my sweats and t-shirt and start to backpedal away from the door.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t go in there looking like this.” People sitting around have nice shirts and slacks on, and the women are wearing dresses. Malcom tugs on my hand and pulls me inside the building. “Malcom,” I plead. “This is a really bad idea. I’m not dressed for this.”
“Skylar, relax. It’s my grandpa’s place. We’re eating in the private dining area. No one will see ya.”
I make an O with my mouth and let him guide me through the busy bistro. We reach a huge guy with muscles on top of muscles who blocks Malcom’s path and eyes us up. “Tony, this is Skylar. Skylar, this is my cousin Tony.”
“Whatcha doing here, Malc?”
“I’m just checking in on Gramps. Showing Skylar here around. Going to a party in a little bit.”
Tony looks me up and down and gives Malcom a raised eyebrow look. “A party, huh? Is it one of those pajama type things? ’Cause one of ya’s not dressed right.”
“Leave her be, man. She’s in her chill clothes.” He starts to pull me along again and shouts back, “See ya, Tony.”
We reach a bronze-colored door and he knocks. I look around, noticing the décor, from the marble statues to the crushed red pepper-colored curtains. The place has a romantic, vintage type feel to it, and I have to swallow down my broken self and fake a smile up at Malcom as the door opens.
An elderly man in a suit with a long dark cane in hand looks over at me then at Malcom. The corners of his wrinkled, pale face lift, and he says, “Malcom, my dear boy, come in. Come in. Who’s this you got with you?”
The old guy motions us into a large office. Malcom and I enter, while Malcom talks. “Gramps, this is Skylar. She’s a transfer from the Cleveland area. We’re heading to a school function a little ways down the road. I figured since I was in the neighborhood I’d drop in and say hi.”
“Yeah.” His grandpa comes over to me, picks up my hand, and kisses it. “You’re a beauty, Skylar.” He lets go of my hand and I blush as Grandpa and Malcom stare at me.
Malcom smiles, nods, and says, “Sure is,” while his grandpa says, “It’s the fussy ones you’ve gotta watch out for, Malcom.”
I almost ask what he means, but quickly figure out he’s making a comment about my choice of apparel. I just smile and take a seat on the couch in the corner of the room. Malcom takes a seat next to me. He brushes a hand on my knee and I squirm. He removes his hand and laughs.
“Are you kids hungry? I can get you some menus.”
&nbs
p; We both nod. Malcom’s grandpa leaves his office. Malcom turns to me, and his eyes seem to pierce me. I need to look away but for this brief moment I can’t. “I know I shouldn’t say this to you but … I can’t help it. I think you’re amazing. You’re different from the others around here. Not just because of where you come from and all that crap. Or the fact that I’ve actually hung out with all the others since elementary.” He smiles. “I like that you didn’t jump up and rush upstairs to change as soon as I made a joke about your outfit. I like how you ask for help, and the purpose for it being for help, not to pretend to be helpless to get me as your next boyfriend. However, in this case, that kind of hurt my ego, but no matter. Point is, you’re really awesome and I like that.”
I can feel myself going rigid. If he tries to kiss me, I might punch him. “I can’t do this.” I swing my fingers from him to myself. “I just … I just ended a … what could have been a really great thing because I didn’t want him to be put through the test of a long-distance relationship at our age. And I know I said the words to push him away, but it hurts. I hurt. So I’m not looking for anything but a friend. That’s it.”
He nods. “I can do that.”
His words seem sincere, but his eyes tell me something totally different. He’s staring at me as if I’m a challenge, or an unbeatable problem he needs to solve in order to collect his prize. But I’ve got news for him: only one person is uncracking this girl and if I have to wait until June to see his face again, I’m waiting.
I might have said it’s over, but that was only so Caleb could be free to have guilt-free fun. But what if he finds someone new? What if … crap, what have I done? All this confusion seeps into my core and all I want to do is go back to my bed. Possibly hide under my heap of covers.
Chapter 7
Caleb
The sky outside is dark, and the ground beneath me is cold, but I don’t care. I’ve sat here for about three hours talking to my dead parents’ headstones. I might have lost some feeling in my legs and possibly have to get some body parts sawed off due to frostbite. But, again, I don’t care.
“Every time I find myself feeling happy something or someone takes it away. Why?” I scream.
Yes, I know I was once a prick who treated girls like objects. So I actually deserved to have my happiness with Skylar taken away. Doesn’t change the fact that this sucks. No one answers my scream. Not that I expected anyone to. Still, it would be nice to get some freaking answers. “I don’t know if I should go to New York now. She doesn’t want me. She told me that today. I know if I saw her, I could change her mind. That’s beyond selfish and wrong, but I need her. She helps make this,” I pause with a hand on my heart, “feel things. She brings out the good in me. For a while, I didn’t think that was possible. Not because Uncle Brian doesn’t try. He does, and we’re cool. I’ve been keeping myself out of trouble for the most part. But Sky makes me want to care about my future. And before her, well, before her, you know how I was. Living in the now.”
I can honestly say I haven’t been partying as much since Sky entered my life, and I’ve been doing my homework. Before, I’d copy off some smart chick who would gladly give me the answers. And these are only some of the changes. I should hate Skylar Fletcher for changing me, but I don’t. I love that freaking girl! “That damn, gorgeous girl came into my life, turned it upside down and left me.” Anyone with any sense would be pissed. Anyone with any sense would want to strangle her when she didn’t answer their calls for a week and then—bam—laid down the freaking “I don’t want to be in a long-distance relationship” stunt.
Break starts Monday. I can’t wait until then. It’s too long. Two days is too long. I’ve got to leave now. “Mom, Dad, I love you guys.” I stand up and dust the dried leaves and dirt from my jeans then walk to my car. I wonder if it’s snowing in New York. I wonder if she’s going to smile or frown when she sees me. I hope she smiles.
***
On speaker with Lance and Kayla, Lance barks, “You’re leaving tonight? I thought your flight wasn’t until Monday!”
“I can’t wait that long. Two days can change everything. She could find someone. She could start talking to them. Fuck, she’s probably already found someone since I let a goddamn week and three days go by.”
“All right, man, calm down. What do you need us to do?”
“Drive me to the airport. My flight leaves in three hours, so I don’t have much time. I’m packed, just need you to come get me.”
“Well that’s fine, man, but what am I supposed to tell your uncle when he calls me asking where you are?”
“Oh, oh, and don’t forget about Derrick, he might need to be in on this too,” Kayla chimes in.
I smile. It reminds me of something Skylar would say. Which, of course, makes me miss her that much more. I shove more things into my suitcase and zip it up. I grab the guitar case and my suitcase and start walking down the steps. The house is currently empty because my uncle and Erin went to a movie.
“We’re getting in my truck right now. So we’ll see you in ten, bro.”
“Awesome. Thanks, man.”
“Yup.” We hang up as I set my things by the front door.
When Lance pulls into the drive, I grab all my things and hurry out of the house, locking the doors behind me. I’ll text my uncle later on tonight after I’m in New York and have seen Skylar. Not a second before.
Once we’re at the airport, I hop out of the truck and grab my things from the back. “Tell her I said hi,” Kayla says from out the open passenger window.
“Yeah, and that I’m failing again because she’s not here to tutor me,” Lance says.
Kayla slaps his arm. “You are not.”
I laugh. “Thanks again. See you guys after the new year.”
They wave and I set off through the doors. After I get my ticket, check my suitcase, and go through security, I wait at my gate. Just as they’re about to board the plane, my insides grow queasy. What the hell am I going to say to her when I see her? Where am I going to stay? I tried calling the hotel I have a room at in a few days, and the surrounding hotels, for my last-minute change, but all of them are booked for the holidays.
So … hopefully, I can stay with Skylar. Hopefully. Otherwise, I might have to beg to sleep in her small-ass car for two days. “Boarding sections one, two, and three,” an attendant calls out.
I move into line, and slowly move forward. The young, dark-skinned woman smiles her cherry-stained lips at each customer, scans their tickets, and sends them on their way down the small ramp leading to the plane. A guy in a business suit is in front of me arguing with someone on a cell. He fumbles over his papers and screams into the phone, “Just hold on a second!”
He muffles an apology to the woman scanning his ticket, snatches it back, and starts yelling again, “I told you I’m on my way home! You need to quit being on my case about every darn thing that goes wrong. I didn’t want that piece-of-shit death trap you call a house. I told you it would take a lot of work but you insisted! What the hell do you want me to do about it right this minute, Susan? I can’t magically wave a wand and fix it from here. You’ll have to wait until I’m there.”
“Hello,” the woman says to me, pulling me from the man’s conversation and back to what I’m supposed to be doing.
“Hey.” I hand over my ticket. She scans it, hands it back, and I’m on my way. F10. I stare at the numbers on the shelves above each seat. F10. That’s my seat number. I find it in the middle of the plane, put my guitar in the above compartment, and take my seat. I take my backpack off and set it under my seat. Normally I’d pull out my laptop and watch a movie or listen to music on my iPod, but I don’t today. I’m just going to think. I look out at the window and let my thoughts take over.
The guy in the business suit takes a seat next to me and gives me a nod while sighing into his phone. “I love you too, honey. Look, I’ll see you soon. Everything will be okay in a few hours. I’ve got to go, though. The plane is abo
ut to take off.”
He hangs up and I pretend to be interested in the SkyMall magazine.
“College or coming home for winter break?” the guy asks.
“Visiting my girlfriend for the holidays.” It’s not a total lie.
He nods. “You in college?”
I shake my head. “Next year.”
“Those were the days.” He sighs as if he’s having a nice flashback. “Have you got one picked out yet?”
I nod. “Yup. I’m going to Duke University.”
“That’s a good school. So what made you decide to be a devil?”
“Honestly?” I ask. “I liked what the recruiter had to say.” And Skylar is going to be there. I don’t mention this. He’ll probably tell me I’m too young and an idiot for chasing after some girl.
Guy nods. “I went there. I like hearing people’s answers before I tell them I went there, too. That’s where I met my wife.” He waves his cell around and laughs. “I wouldn’t change a thing. As much as she drives me nuts about this dump of a house we bought, I love her to death.” He shakes his head. I’ve got no idea what this dude is talking about. “So, why is a guy like you dating a girl from … where is she?”
“New York. She used to live in Ohio. But … she’s living with her dad now, who lives in New York.” I don’t know why I’m telling a stranger all this stuff. But for the most part, this dude seems to have his shit together.
“Love makes you do some crazy shit.”
I shrug. “I guess. She doesn’t know I’m coming.”
“She doesn’t? I did that. I followed Susan to Montana, where her family is from, instead of going down to the beach for spring break as planned.”
The guy, I find out, is named Clyde and he’s in advertising. He and Susan have been married for eight years and are thinking about starting a family. That’s if, of course, the house doesn’t collapse on him. I tell him the reason I’m going to New York—the real reason—and he thinks it’s a good idea. He even gives me some helpful pointers, like picking up some flowers and waiting on her doorstep for her if she isn’t home. The last idea sounds a little stalkerish but hey, whatever. If it gets her to come home with me, that’s all I need.
Rival Hearts (Rival Love #2) Page 3
