Until It's Right

by Jamie Howard

  I’m tempted to ask him: Do what? Wash my dish? Share the agonizing truth about my family? Try to avoid his reaction?

  I lift one shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s not a big deal.”

  His dish slides across the counter next to me, and he steps closer, resting his hands on either side of the sink, boxing me in. He’s close enough that he can touch me if he wants to, his front pressing up against my back, but he keeps his distance, leaving that sliver of space between us I want so desperately for him to close. He dips his head forward and says in a low voice, “It is to me.”

  This time I don’t have to question his meaning.

  My heart creeps up into my throat and wedges itself there so I can’t speak. Even my limbs refuse to cooperate, like they’ve all solidified into stone and I can’t move a muscle.

  Before I can recover, he steps back and clears his throat. “I’m just gonna go get changed and then we can head out.”

  His footsteps fade from the room, then pound up the staircase. And I’m still standing here, the plate wobbling in my fingers as my hands shake, watching the clear, cold water swirl down the drain.

  Chapter 16

  Kyle

  “Heads up!”

  Instinctually, I lift my hands and just manage to trap the basketball between them. In my own form of personal torture, Brian’s insisted on brother bonding time via HORSE when it’s warm enough. The cold winter months were left up to my discretion—so, video games.

  It’s not really fair that Brian’s good at both.

  I miss the winter.

  Taking a step to my left, I toe my sneaker up to the foul line. I glance up, trying to figure out the right angle the ball will need to take to bank off the backboard and bounce through the rim. I give it my best shot—relaxing my knees, flicking my wrist. The ball clangs off the backboard and bounces aimlessly to the side.

  Brian shakes his head at me and effortlessly dribbles the ball next to him, not even looking at the damn thing. “You’d think that after almost a year of this you’d have figured it out.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but I have a feeling I’m never going to ‘figure it out.’”

  He jogs over to the top of the key and sinks a jump shot. I learned all the terms, but unfortunately expanding my vocabulary to include basketball lingo didn’t actually help with anything.

  “So,” he says. “Mom tells me Haley spent the night last Saturday.” He grins at me. “How’d that work out for ya? Did you finally christen that room?”

  I jump and heave the ball toward the hoop. It lands about five feet short. “I already told you that’s not gonna happen. Not until I fictionally assassinate Clark or fess up.”

  “That’s H.” Brian lines up another shot, shifts his gaze toward me, and then takes two more big steps forward. Nothing but net. “I don’t know, man. I was definitely getting some vibes off of her.”

  “That’s because she was pretending to be my girlfriend.”

  “Nah. Not buying it.” He shakes his head.

  I trade my work cell for the basketball. “Go ahead. Take a read through the conversations she’s had with ‘Clark.’ If she’s really interested in me, don’t you think she would have stopped texting that asshole by now?” I take aim for the basket and at least manage to nail the rim this time. The ball bounces back to me and I’m tempted to kick it into the fence to ease some of my frustration. Except, I’d probably miss the ball and land flat on my ass. Or I’d make contact and somehow manage to punt the ball into my face. I’ve already broken one pair of glasses playing this dumb game; I refuse to let it happen again.

  Brian’s thumb moves over the screen as he scrolls. “Okay, but she hasn’t even texted him once since that night at our house. There’s nothing after her seeing what he was doing that night, and you eventually texting back and apologizing for being busy.”

  We trade again and I shove my phone back in my pocket as he makes another shot effortlessly. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t be with her because I’m lying to her, and I can’t tell her because she’d probably never speak to me again after she found out.”

  He turns to watch me miss another one. “H-O-R.” With a quick snap of his wrist, he bounces the ball, the sound of it ricocheting around the court. “Is this really about Clark, or is this about Stacy?”

  I drop my head back between my shoulders and stare up at the crystal-clear blue sky. “Why would you bring her up?”

  “Because, she royally fucked you up and I want to make sure she’s still not messing with your head.”

  “I haven’t spoken to her in months.”

  “Doesn’t mean she’s not still up here, sabotaging you.” He taps his finger against my forehead and I bat it away.

  “Haley is nothing like Stacy.”

  Brian dribbles the ball in and lays it up. He’s not even breathing hard when he says, “So, you don’t think she’s too good for you then?”

  I sink my teeth into my lower lip, trying to bite off my reply.

  “Right.” He rolls his eyes. “That’s what I thought.”

  His bounce pass catches me in the stomach, and I let out an unmanly oof. With great care, I half walk, half jog toward the basket, and finally, finally, get one in. Okay, I was literally standing directly underneath the hoop, but whatever, I’ll take it.

  Another several minutes of tense silence pass in which Brian continues to pummel me, and in no time I’m up to H-O-R-S. Thank God we’re almost done.

  Brian tucks the ball underneath his arm, even though it’s my turn. I wiggle my fingers at him, signaling I’m ready for it, but he ignores me.

  “So are you gonna ask her out?”

  I drop my arms down and my hands slap against my thighs. “Who, Haley? No. Haven’t you been listening?”

  “Haven’t you?”

  “News flash, Brian. Not everyone is you. Not everyone is a star fucking athlete and has women lined up around the corner spreading their legs for them.” I fist my hands in my hair. “God, sometimes you’re such an idiot.”

  He slams the ball down against the asphalt and it bounces at least ten feet in the air. “Good one. Dumb jock. Never heard that one before.” A muscle bunches in his cheek. “You know, if I’m so good at getting chicks to ‘spread their legs for me,’ you’d think maybe you’d be willing to take my advice. Since I’m such an expert and all.” He shakes his head at me. “Sometimes for a nerd you’re really stupid too.”

  We stare each other down for a good sixty seconds, and although Brian’s a tall guy, I’m no slouch either. He tops me by an inch or two, but it’s not enough that I can’t look him straight in the eye. “I never said you were stupid.”

  “No, just an idiot. Sorry, I’m not intelligent enough to know the difference.” His words have lost all their heat by now, and instead he just sounds defeated.

  “Brian—”

  “Forget it.” He waves his hand and turns his back to pick up the ball. Bouncing it at his side, he serves up another shot and like it’s got some type of radar on it, it toilet-bowls around the rim before it drops in.

  He passes it back to me, and I barely put in enough effort to make it skim off the backboard. “H-O-R-S-E. That’s game.”

  Without waiting for me, he walks over to the bench and slumps down on it, bending over to unlace his sneakers. He’s already got one off and stuffed inside his duffel bag by the time I make my way over. And like we never fought at all, he smiles and shakes a finger at me. He never could stay angry for more than a few minutes at a time. “Alright, so things aren’t going to work out with Haley. That blows. But if you’re not going to change your mind, let me set you up with someone.”

  I grimace. “I don’t know. I’m sure when girls hear you have a brother they’ll probably get unreasonably excited about it. It’ll definitely end up being a letdown.”

  “Give me a little more credit than that. I’m not gonna set you up with some superficial bitch. C’mon, whatta ya say?”

  I hesitate and tr
y to stall. Just because I can’t see a way out of this whole Clark situation right now doesn’t mean it won’t work itself out in the future. And the fact that Haley hasn’t been texting him at all? Yeah, I’ve been trying not to get my hopes up about that all week. But if I go on a date with someone else and she finds out about it, maybe she’ll think I’m not interested in her after all and I’ve moved on. And it’s stupid and pathetic that I’m trying to dictate my love life over minuscule possibilities, but if being celibate a bit longer ensures no miscommunications with Haley? I’ll take one for the team.

  “I don’t know, I’m not—” I frown at the pocket of my shorts where my work phone is vibrating. Pulling it out, I give it a quick read and feel my heart sink to my feet, plummeting straight out of my chest and splattering on the ground into sad, tiny pieces. I give my eyes a quick, hard blink, and look back up at Brian. “You know what, whatever. Set it up.”

  Chapter 17

  Haley

  The entire apartment smells like popcorn. Fresh, buttery, salty goodness. My stomach gives a little groan at the thought of adding those kernels on top of the cookie dough I just ate, but I ignore it. Today is a watch-all-the-movies, eat-all-the-junk-food, and have-girl-bonding time kind of day.

  I toss Delia a bottle of water and curl up in the corner of the couch. Gone with the Wind is playing on our television, our go-to classic, but it’s really only background noise at this point. We could all probably recite it line for line.

  I turn on the couch so I’m facing the middle, and my knee pokes through the gaping hole in my sweatpants. “So, Tar, how are classes treating you this semester?” Sticking my hand in the popcorn bowl in her lap, I scoop out handful.

  “Not bad, really.” She shrugs, and the messy bun on top of her head wobbles. “I mean for master’s classes they’re not as bad as I expected. Except thermodynamics theory, which is an absolute bear.”

  Delia laughs. “I could barely pass physics—”

  “I’m sorry, you passed physics?” Tara arches one dark eyebrow at her. “All by yourself?”

  Delia leans a little further to her left so she can look around Tara and make eye contact with me. “You know, I was trying to pay my girlfriend a compliment about how smart she is, and how sexy it is to hear words like ‘thermodynamics’ come out of her mouth. But I think I’m gonna have to pass now.”

  Tara narrows her eyes at her, and Delia sticks her tongue out in response. The two of them are so cute sometimes it makes me sick. Or jealous. Sickly jealous, maybe?

  “So, what’s new in the world of work?” Delia asks, shoving up the sleeve of her sweatshirt so it doesn’t drag in the popcorn bowl.

  “Not much.” I lick some salt from my thumb. “Although, Mr. March did let me work on this huge project with him, and it turned out fantastic. I’m super proud of it.”

  “Way to go, Hales.” Tara offers me a high-five, and I slap her hand.

  “Now what’s this I hear about some guy you work with? What’s his name?” Delia asks.

  “Kyle? Yeah, we’re … friends.” I redirect my gaze to the television in time to watch Scarlett fall down the stairs. Ouch.

  Tara elbows me. “Yeah, friends who have sleepovers.”

  “Oh, really?” Delia scoots forward. “Tell me more.”

  “There isn’t really anything to tell.”

  Tara leans closer to Delia and grins. “Last weekend she met his parents and pretended to be his girlfriend.”

  “No!” Delia smacks Tara lightly in the arm. “You knew this for a week and didn’t tell me?”

  “I forgot.”

  “You’d forget your brain if it wasn’t tucked in your skull.”

  I roll my eyes at them. “It was nothing. Just a favor.”

  “So, you don’t like him?” Delia cocks her head to the side.

  “I…” I twist my water bottle in my hands and it crackles. My very empty water bottle. “I’m just gonna grab another water.”

  “Chicken!” Tara tosses a handful of popcorn in my direction. “At least bring back some napkins if you’re going to the kitchen!”

  I scurry into the kitchen and duck my head into the refrigerator. The water bottles are all lined up along the door, but I take my time about it. My feelings for Kyle are anything but simple. They’re all rolled up and tangled like a bunch of messily stored Christmas lights. Tugging on one end just makes things more knotted and confused.

  Snagging a water bottle, I shove the fridge door closed and blow out a breath. I do like Kyle, there’s no doubt about it. I like him probably more than I should given that we spent an entire night in his bed together and he didn’t make a move. Didn’t even try. And the next morning he dropped me off at my apartment with a smile and a wave, while my lips were literally aching to be on his. The thought of asking Kyle out makes my stomach riot and my palms go instantly damp, but I’d still do it if it weren’t for the fact that all signs were pointing to how bad an idea that would be.

  When I reach for the napkins, a small creamy envelope wedged between the knife block and the flour canister catches my eye. I slip it out and flip it over. That’s weird; it’s got my name on it.

  “Tar?” I wiggle the envelope in the air. “Where’d this come from?”

  She covers her mouth so she can finish chewing her huge mouthful of popcorn. “The mail. It came a few days ago. Sorry, totally forgot I stuck it over there.”

  Inching my fingernail under the envelope flap, I peel it open. It’s only when the invitation falls out into my hand that I realize what it is, and the sight of it hits me in the chest like I stepped into oncoming traffic and got plowed down by a bus.

  How could I have forgotten about Blaire’s wedding? The wedding I was supposed to be in. The wedding I imagined I’d be attending with Luke’s ring on my finger, back when I still thought there was a future for us.

  I glance down at my bare finger, and feel my barely mended heart tremble.

  I fist my hand and squeeze until my knuckles bleach white. She’s going to be there. My replacement. The better version of me that’s more beautiful and outspoken and daring. I’ll have to spend the entire night seeing them together. It’ll be like watching someone dismantle my heart, one tiny, broken shard at a time, after I worked so hard to piece it back together.

  “Haley?” Tara scurries into the kitchen, her big chunky socks slip-sliding across the kitchen floor. “What’s the matter?”

  Delia’s right behind her, skidding to a stop on the other side of the kitchen island. “What is it?”

  I slide the whole thing across to them, and Tara peers over Delia’s shoulder to read it.

  “Oh, Hales,” Tara says, her expression drooping. “You’re not going are you?”

  “I have to. I was supposed to be in the wedding. I can’t not go.”

  “Of course you can.” She purses her lips. “She hasn’t even called you once since you left him. Not once. She took her sister’s side without a thought for you. What kind of friend is that?”

  “I’m not going to argue with you. It’s going to kill me, but I’m going to be there. It’s the right thing to do.”

  “Maybe the right thing to do would’ve been for him to not get all cozy with his ex while you were still together, hm?”

  “Tara.” Delia lays a small, pale hand on her arm. When Tara glances down at her, Delia gives her head a tiny shake.

  “Alright, alright, you’re going.” Tara throws up her hands. “But you’re not going to mope all night. You’re not going to give them the satisfaction.” She spins the invitation around and reads it again, then jabs it with her pointer finger. “You got a plus-one, so you’re bringing a plus-one.”

  A smidgeon of hope takes root in my chest. “You’re going to come with me?”

  “Hell. No.” She snorts. “Do you want me to cause a giant scene?”

  I give my head a quick shake.

  “Yeah, I didn’t think so. But just because I’m not going to go with you, does not mean you shoul
d go alone.”

  Delia picks up on her train of thought, and her mouth curves into a smile. “Right, so who can you bring with you to show them all that you’re over it and you’ve moved on?”

  “The texting guy.” Tara snaps her fingers. “It’s time. You’ve been flirt-texting him for weeks—”

  “We don’t flirt.”

  “—and enough’s enough. Meet him. See if he’s a keeper. And if he is, invite him to the wedding with you.”

  I drag my lip between my teeth. “I don’t know. Wouldn’t that be fast, inviting him to a wedding?”

  “With two months of foreplay?” Delia asks.

  “Please, just text him and see if he wants to meet. If not, fine, whatever. We’ll move on to plan B,” Tara adds.

  “What’s plan B?” I ask.

  “I haven’t figured it out yet, but I will.” Tara winks at me. “So, let’s do it. Right now. Pull your phone out of your pocket and make it happen.”

  I hesitate. What Tara doesn’t know is that I haven’t spoken to Clark since I spent the night at Kyle’s. Not out of any type of disloyalty or anything, but I haven’t really needed to speak to him. Kyle has almost replaced him, so that when I’m having a problem, or a bad day, the first person I think to look for is Kyle, not Clark.

  But maybe that’s a good thing in this instance? I’m almost a hundred percent certain that Clark is about as interested in meeting me as I am him—so, not at all. Despite Tara thinking we’ve been flirting and it’s leading to something more, it really isn’t like that. We’re just friends. Ours is a technology sustained relationship only. And on the off chance he does agree, if we meet and it doesn’t work out it won’t be the worst thing in the world. Losing Clark wouldn’t at all be like losing Kyle.

  Unless … what if I invite Kyle instead? Now, that is an idea I can get on board with.

  “Haley, please,” Tara pleads. “Just text him.”

  “Fine, fine.” I flip to my messages and type out a quick text. I don’t even bother to worry about it because I’m secretly hoping he won’t want to meet me at all. I’ll send this text real quick to get Tara off my back, and then I can worry about how I’m going to convince Kyle to go with me to Blaire’s wedding. Maybe a night of getting dressed up and dinner and dancing will be just what I need to figure out if Kyle might be feeling something for me too. Or not.