Love and Other Secrets

by Christina Mandelski

  “You shouldn’t have said that,” I say after I finish the transaction and stand next to Jax at the espresso machine. “He’s a good guy.”

  Jax hits the steamer. “Then why did you hide?” he yells over the noise.

  “Shh!” I put a finger to my mouth. “I wasn’t hiding,” I try to whisper.

  “Come on,” he says. “Admit it. That guy broke your heart.”

  I glare at him. “He did not!”

  His eyebrows shoot straight up on his narrow face. “Coulda fooled me.”

  An hour later, the Table Three girls come in, minus Devon. I try to listen in, to find out where she might be. I hear the word “date” and “Devon” in the same sentence, but it’s too loud in there to decipher the rest.

  From that point on, though, it’s a downward spiral, because the date I picture her on is with Alex, at his house. I see them clearly, probably laying in the same spot we were last night, only her dad’s not going to break them up, and Alex isn’t going to regret anything the next day.

  I fight the urge to groan out loud, because this scene I’ve conjured up in my head is so gross. I glance over at Jax, with his pinched face and terrible personality, and I think maybe he is right. Maybe I did just get my heart broken without even realizing it.

  When we finally close and get out of there, it’s late, and the last thing I want to do is go to my empty house. It’s hot and that certain kind of sticky that’s so Florida. You can smell the salt of the Gulf of Mexico somewhere in the distance and feel the mosquitoes lining up to take a bite.

  I roll down my window, start the car, and push in the cassette tape that’s in the deck. You can find some good music at thrift stores, along with good clothes, if you know where to look, but tonight I’m listening to an old eighties mix tape that Dad made my mother. They met in high school and got married right after graduation. I interviewed Dad for my film, asking how he promposed to Mom.

  “Back then it wasn’t all this craziness,” he said. “You asked your girl and showed up in a limo with a corsage. Of course, I couldn’t afford a limo, but my best friend’s uncle ran a funeral home, so they let us use theirs for cheap.”

  “Dad,” I’d said. “Did you take Mom to prom in a hearse?”

  He laughed. “No, it was the limo that the family rides in. It was maroon, but there was a Mass for the Dead prayer book in the backseat.”

  I chuckle at this anecdote. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that everyone has a story, even your own parents.

  The wind blows my hair back, and I hit fast forward over this slow song I don’t particularly like. I know this tape, and I know what I’m cueing it up to, even if I know I shouldn’t. A few seconds of whirring fast-forwarding and the cassette clicks to a stop, then starts to play.

  The first notes of “It’s the End of the World As We Know It” pulse through the speakers, and I do my best to follow the frenetic lyrics. I sing along at the top of my lungs the only lines I know for sure. “I feel fiiiiiine!” I scream at the big Florida moon, hanging like a ripe orange over this town.

  As it comes to an end, I pull into the trailer park, because the only other place to go is Alex’s, and that is no longer an option.

  Mom gets home around seven the next morning. I hear her in the kitchen. Usually by now I’m up and getting ready for school.

  There’s a knock on my door. She comes in before I give her permission. “Why are you still in bed? Are you sick? What’s wrong?” she asks, sticking out her hand and feeling my forehead.

  I move out of her reach and moan. She’s a good mom, but she asks too many questions, which is especially annoying in the morning. I hate mornings.

  “I didn’t sleep well,” I say.

  She crosses her arms. “Do you want to stay home?”

  “No, Mom, I can’t stay home.”

  “Why not? Take a mental health day.”

  I roll onto my back and meet her anxious stare. “What, you think I have mental problems?” I ask. She’s always trying to talk me into staying home.

  She uncrosses her arms and rolls her eyes. “No, I do not.” She clears her throat. “But you do have a visitor,” she says.

  I freeze, suddenly terrified. “What? Who?”

  She smirks and swats at my foot. “Alex.”

  I lift both hands to my head. “No! Mom,” I whisper fiercely. “Tell him to go away.”

  “Bailey,” she says, lowering her voice. “He looks absolutely stricken. Why? Is this about Dad coming to get you the other night?”

  “No, it’s not. I just don’t want to see him.” I’m trying to keep my voice down because you can hear everything that’s said or done in this tiny house.

  “Well, I told him you were here. Do you really want me to send him away?”

  I swear my mother cannot be impolite to anyone. I sit up. She’ll never do it.

  “No. I got it.” I stand up, breathe from my toes, then walk the length of the house in my shorty pajamas. The sliding glass door is open to the front porch, and Alex is sitting on one of the old wicker chairs. I wonder if he feels out of place here in the land of thrifted goods and tiny spaces.

  He lifts a hand. His face looks pained. His hair looks nice. He shaved. I try not to care.

  If you can’t keep your distance physically, I tell myself, keep your distance emotionally. Be brave.

  I force myself to make direct eye contact. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” He stands up and sticks his hands in his pockets. At the same time, his eyes trail up and down my body. I look down to make sure that I actually have on pants, which I do.

  I cross my arms. I couldn’t breathe more from my toes if I tried. It’s not working.

  He hits me with the Alex smile, and I have a flashback to his face over mine, the smile he gave me before he kissed me more. When he smiled like that, I had zero doubts about us. In that moment, we were a perfect match.

  I know better now.

  “How are you?”

  “I’m good,” I lie.

  “Yeah. Good,” he says, the smile not fading, but he looks over my shoulder. My mom must be standing there. “Hey, do you want a ride to school?”

  I ignore the question. “Mom? Can you give us a second?”

  She doesn’t say a word, but I hear her shuffle into the bathroom and close the door.

  He clears his throat. “Listen, Bailey—”

  Do I really have to listen? Do I? No, I do not.

  “Oh, come on.” I stop him and manage to give him my sarcastic joke face—serious but not serious. “Let’s not make this into something it’s not.”

  God, that sounded like a line out of a cheesy teen movie, but that doesn’t stop me. I smile (fake) and put up a hand. “Honestly, I was out of my mind tired. Half asleep. I mean, you were totally right, it was absolutely no big deal.”

  “No?” The smile disappears, and his eyes draw together, concerned and sad. I know he doesn’t like to hurt people’s feelings. He likes to say yes to everyone, but even he has his limits, apparently.

  I puff out a fake laugh to prove that I am okay. “No! Of course not! No big deal at all.”

  His perfect face blurs in front of me. I see balloons in the front seat of his car and him going to prom with a girl who is actually one of his people, his clan, his tribe. Devon. They’re the perfect match. He’s the fricking Love Guru; he should know that more than anyone.

  He’s not speaking, and I can’t take the silence, so I’m going to end this.

  “So,” I say matter-of-factly, “all I need is the stuff for the promposal. Did you bring it?”

  He moves a few steps closer to me and comes back into focus. The eyes, the hair, the lips.

  “No.” His voice is soft. “I brought this.” On the chair beside him is a beige garment bag that he picks up and holds out to me. “I thought maybe you’d need it, in case you want to get it altered.” He stares at me and scratches the back of his head. “Not that you need to. Obviously, it fit fine…” His words trail off,
and he looks at the floor.

  Yeah, I know it fit fine. We tested it.

  “Alex…” I grimace. I can’t wear that thing. All I’ll do on prom night is relive that dance in the closet, which will lead to the replay of the kissing on the sofa. This dress cannot stay here. “It’s really nice of your mom, but I can’t take it. It’s too precious.”

  He shakes his head and purses his lips. Stop looking at his lips, Bailey.

  “Come on, you have to take it. I already told her you did. She gave me the name of an alteration lady, if you want it. Bails, just take it.” He pushes it toward me.

  I don’t take it.

  Instead, I lean on the threshold of the door and shake my head. “Alex.”

  “Okay.” He frowns. “So do you want a ride to school?”

  He must be crazy. He’s going to the prom with Devon McGill, and he’s gonna pull up with me in his car? Just what I need is to get in a catfight with her.

  “Thanks, but I need to drive. I have to go straight to work.”

  “Right.”

  I hear the bathroom door creak open.

  He looks back over his shoulder but then swings around again, running his hand through his hair. “So,” he stares at the ground. “we’re still friends, yeah?”

  I swallow hard and feel a tight pain in my chest. “Yes,” I say, even though I don’t know if it’s the truth.

  He nods once, still looking at the floor.

  “I have to get dressed,” I say. “I’ll see you at school.” Then I walk away before he can. Mostly because I don’t think I can watch him go.

  Mom is in the door of the bathroom as I pass by on the way to my room. Her eyes are so sad.

  “Mom—”

  She looks back toward the kitchen, and so do I. He’s gone.

  “What happened, sweetheart?”

  That’s it. When I see the empty space where he stood, I gurgle and choke out a, “Nothing!”

  She grabs my arm, but I pull away. “Mom, I’ll be okay.” I go in my room and fall onto the bed. It only takes a few seconds for her to reach me, and by then I’m crying like an idiot.

  “Are you sure? Honey, why are you and Alex fighting?” I know what she’s doing. I usually tell her everything, without her even asking. She doesn’t like to be in the dark.

  “Because we’re too different. He goes to prom with Table Three girls, not with girls like me.”

  She shakes her head. “I thought you were asking the Texas kid.”

  “I am!” I shout. This has gotten way too complicated, but her eyes tell me that now she understands exactly what’s going on. She sits down on the side of my bed and wipes the stream of water falling down my face.

  “What’s a Table Three girl?”

  My face crumples, and more tears come, dammit. “You know. The girls who get everything.”

  She gives my cheek another swipe and laughs low.

  “What?” I ask.

  “I’ve known all sorts of people, honey, and no one gets everything, even the girls who seem like they do.” She pushes my arm softly.

  “Okay, fine. They don’t get everything. Only the really good things.”

  She reaches for my hand and holds it tight. “You know what? I might look like I have nothing to the rest of the world, but I know that’s not true. I have all the really good things. I have you and your father. I’m the luckiest woman on the planet.”

  She leans forward and kisses the side of my head. “Stay home today, will you?”

  I sniff. “No. I can’t. I have to go to school.”

  She squeezes my hand and stands up.

  I think about Alex and the things I just said to him. Things that I want to be true but are not. At the moment, anyway. It’s going to take some work to make them true.

  Maybe asking Caleb to prom is all it will take.

  When I leave to go to school, the garment bag is still on the chair. He left it for me.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Alex

  That was useless. I went to her house expecting to make things better, but now everything is worse. I planned to make my case, which was my first mistake. I spent a lot of time figuring it out and even practiced in front of the bathroom mirror.

  “Bails,” I was going to say, “can we talk about us kissing?” That was the plan, and then maybe, “That kiss meant something, and maybe we should try to figure out what.”

  I shouldn’t have even wasted my time going over there because I said none of that. Instead, when I saw her, I was rendered speechless. How was I supposed to concentrate with her in those short pajama things? Her long legs, her tired eyes, her hair all crazy. Beautiful.

  If I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t even let her talk. I’d yell Screw asking Tex! Come to prom with me! Then I’d take her in my arms and kiss her.

  I didn’t do that.

  If I had, she would have shot me down, but at least I could say I tried. Instead, I let her do all the talking and left like a total chickenshit.

  And tomorrow, she’s going to ask him to the prom.

  At school, I power through the morning, and of course I don’t see her. We rarely see each other at school with our completely different schedules. She takes all the AP and dual credit type stuff, plus a two-hour A/V block. Me… Let’s just say I’m taking it easy this year.

  That’s probably part of the reason she thinks kissing me was a mistake. She’s always pushing me to do more or at least come up with some plan, any plan, and it doesn’t even annoy me. The way she says it makes me feel good, like she believes I can do whatever I put my mind to.

  Why the hell didn’t I listen to her? Or at least acted like I cared about something—anything?

  At lunchtime, I’m completely distracted, and before I realize what I’ve done, I go to the cafeteria for some pizza.

  I’d been planning to avoid Devon, but she sees me and apparently isn’t holding a grudge over the fact that I said no to her promposal. She calls my name, which is then echoed by everyone at the long table where the lacrosse guys sit.

  She slaps the seat next to her. “Sit by me,” she says. Doesn’t seem like the smartest move, but I can’t think of an excuse fast enough, so I do it.

  “Hey, Kov.” She leans in, flirting like I didn’t just reject her. “What’s up?”

  I shake my head and look at her suspiciously. “Not much.”

  “We’re talking about prom plans,” she says. Immediately I wonder what she’s up to. I sit forward and try to concentrate on my pizza.

  “You’re going in our group, yes?” she says. “And after, to the beach house?”

  Before I can answer, Sam the goalie who’s sitting across the table, interrupts. “Wait, I thought you two were going together.”

  “No, we are not,” Devon says. “Kov is asking someone else.”

  I really wish she’d stop talking.

  “For real?” Sam, of Sam and Lily fame, says. “You’re actually asking someone this year?”

  I shrug.

  “Who?” he pushes.

  “Yeah, who? Did you ask her yet?” Devon asks.

  “Nope.” I make eye contact with no one as I inhale the rest of my pizza, wishing I’d get sucked into the ancient linoleum under my feet. The last thing I want to do right now is admit that my plan to take Bailey has burned to the ground. To them or to myself.

  I look up from the table, plotting my escape, when—holy shit—it’s her. Bailey is walking down the center aisle with two apples in her hand. She’s never in the cafeteria, so when our eyes meet briefly, I don’t know what to do. She pauses, and I see her eyes move to Devon, and then she flashes me the smallest smile and passes by. She looked like she just realized something, and I know exactly what she’s thinking. I don’t know how I know, but I do.

  Two nights ago, I kissed her, and now I’m sitting next to Devon. She probably assumes we’re together, maybe even that we’re going to prom.

  Shit.

  I look back over my shoulder. She�
�s walking out the door.

  I stand up. I need to tell her. Not that it’ll change anything, but I need her to know that Devon and I are not a thing. She might not care, but at least she’ll know I’m not a complete douchebag.

  “I gotta go,” I say to no one in particular, then I drop off my tray and follow her. She’s ahead of me in the hallway, and I watch as she pulls open the library door. A minute later, when I get to the glass doors, I see her giving one of her apples to Tex, who is at the front table, studying.

  I stagger backward a little. Of course. I shouldn’t be surprised by what I see, but I am.

  Sure. It makes total sense. She’s going to ask him to prom—tomorrow. Why shouldn’t she be eating apples with him in the library?

  No big deal.

  No big deal?

  My pulse beats in my neck way faster than is normal, and my eyes blur as I make my way to the back doors of the school. I hear my name called as I walk through the halls, but I pay no attention. As soon as I’m outside, backpack banging up and down on my back, I run, fast, toward the lacrosse field. When I get there, I lift my arms and growl at the sky.

  Bullshit! It’s a big fucking deal.

  I fling my backpack to the ground and drop, laying on my back, staring at the sky.

  I growl again. Damn it. Before Bailey, the only place I’d ever growled was here on this field playing lacrosse, the only other thing I love.

  Not that I love her. I can’t love her. That’s stupid. I’m Alex Koviak, I’ll find you love, but I’m not falling in it myself. Someday, maybe, but not right now. I don’t want to be tied down. Right now, I want to be free, to do what I want with whoever I want. Right?

  Honestly, though, watching her give him that apple, watching that smile on her face was terrible. A smile for him—like he’s hers and she’s his and they’re a couple. When I saw that, I didn’t feel anything like free. I felt like I was in prison, behind bars and chained up from what I want most.

  Is that love? I have no idea.

  All I know is what I want most right now is her.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Bailey

  When I get back home after school, the garment bag is laying on my bed. A few seconds later, I hear a door open and close.