“I’m taking off,” Lace said. “I shouldn’t have come here.”
“No. Wait.” Bryan shouldered me out of his way, but he only got that play because I was off guard, watching her fall apart.
“No.” She waved him off. “I’ll call Chad. He’ll come get me, my one friend outside the band. You called it, Bry—Bryan. I didn’t see it then, but I see it now. I see it all clearly.” She cranked up her chin. “It was nice to see you again, Mrs. Jackson. I meant what I said. You made a big difference in my life. Thanks again for that. Miriam and Ann, I wish you well.”
Lace paused her gaze on each of them while avoiding looking directly at Bryan or me. Then she turned away from everyone without another word. The hem of her short dress whirled around her toned upper thighs, her spine as inflexible as her sewing shears.
She was giving me the cut, just like I’d given her last night. Bryan too, apparently.
But I didn’t notice how he took it. Watching her leave for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, I bled out all over Mrs. Jackson’s pristine floor. Not him.
Lace
I leaned into the consignment shop counter, flipping page after glossy page of an Alluring fashion magazine that I’d thumbed through hundreds of times. But boredom wasn’t why the details that usually interested me blurred before my eyes.
War.
Bry.
Me.
Round and round, my thoughts went, like a merry-go-round with no off switch.
I glanced at the two-inch-thick secondhand SAT study book beside the magazine. Lack of sleep and the reasons for it aside, I should be memorizing math formulas, not wasting any more headspace on the impossible variables in my life.
The shop bell rang as if to underscore my thought.
“Welcome to Janet’s Design,” I said, glancing up, and my greeting stalled.
It was Bryan.
Just seeing him, I felt my heart flutter. His brown hair wind-mussed, he was wearing his leather jacket (he and my brother rocked that look better than any other guy did) with his standard black T-shirt and jeans.
But today it wasn’t his handsome face or the way his clothing clung to his chiseled body that made me react the way I did. It was the warmth in his gorgeous eyes. It was like no time had passed, and I had my childhood best friend back. Only not really, because he wasn’t a boy anymore, and I wasn’t a little girl.
“Hi, Bryan,” I said, keeping my tone neutral, since the past was gone and now was now. The current situation between us was clear in a way it never had been, thanks to his mom. We couldn’t go backward, but I also realized now that we couldn’t go forward either. Not even just as friends. “What can I do for you?”
“Not here to shop. Here to check on you.” He scanned the interior as he approached. “Nice place. Cool displays.”
“Thanks.” I kept the racks of clothes in order and arranged the colorful end-cap displays.
“Quiet.”
“Yeah, it’s been a slow day.” I’d only had three customers my entire shift.
“Are you okay?” He stopped on the other side of the checkout counter from me.
“I’m hanging in there.” Averting my gaze, I closed my magazine.
“That doesn’t sound like a yes.”
“It is what it is.” I shrugged and looked back up.
“I wish you would have let me walk you home last night.” The concern in his eyes captivated me.
“I couldn’t let you do that,” I said. That would have been the match to War’s ready-to-ignite fuse. “We both know why.”
“What do you mean?” Bryan’s gaze narrowed.
“We can’t be friends.” I spelled it out, though to me, the explanation seemed unnecessary after last night. “We can’t hang out, and I can’t visit you at your place anymore.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Your friendship with War. Your position in the group. Your future. Being friends with me could jeopardize all that for you.”
“Because War’s not over you,” he said flatly. “Is that it?”
“Oh, he’s over me, all right.” My brow creased. “Did you not hear what he said to me last night?”
“With War, sometimes the level of his emotional response speaks louder truth than his words do.”
“Well, the loud truth I heard was that I blew it.” I pointed to myself. “He feels betrayed by me. And you know how he is as well as I do. When someone’s out with him, they’re out. I’m the enemy now. I don’t want you to get judged guilty by association with me. It’s better to say good-bye right now. Go our separate ways.”
There would never be an our anything for Bryan and me except the wall we shared with us on opposite sides. Only now I understood better the reasons it had to always be there.
His jaw flexing, he said, “I don’t agree.”
“Bryan, please. Don’t be stubborn. This is already difficult enough. Having you back without worrying about War, even for just a little while, was wonderful. But we both know it was only temporary.”
“Lace, listen.” He raked a hand through his hair, pulling the silky strands away from his creased brow, but they just slid right back where they’d been before. Like my feelings for him would if we didn’t have that wall of separation. “I did a lot of thinking last night. I’d like to talk to you about it.”
“Did this thinking occur before or after War laid into you for me being at your place.”
He winced. “After.”
“I’m sure that was an incredibly tense situation for you. For your mom. For everyone. So, you know I’m right.”
“Can you hold off making all these unilateral decisions until after you hear what I have to say?”
“Okay.” I spread my arms wide. “Speak. I’m all ears.”
“Not here. Just you and me. Privately. No potential interruptions.”
He swept his gaze over me. His eyes darkened as if he appreciated my flippy hair style, and the pink plaid sixties dress that skimmed my curves and revealed a long length of my legs. Janet allowed me to wear whatever I liked from the inventory while working. Customers liked my outfits so much that they often purchased them on the spot, or if it wasn’t their size, asked me to put together a similar one for them.
“Can I walk you home after you get off?”
“Sure,” I said. Just because I knew the way it had to be with us, didn’t mean I didn’t want to hear what he had to say. Plus, him walking me home would save Dizzy the trip. “It’s closing time now. Diz was going to pick me up. He usually walks me home when it’s dark, but if you call him and let him know there’s been a change in plans, I’ll shut everything down, and we can leave sooner.”
Nodding, Bryan slid his cell out of his pocket. “All right.”
As I counted the cash, I sneaked peeks at him. He was so sexy with his hair in his eyes. I imagined him giving me a flirty look through those thick lashes of his, and let out a longing sigh without thinking.
“You okay?” he asked, looking up from his phone.
“Yeah, just daydreaming.”
“About what?”
“Impossible things. Typical dream stuff.” I jotted down the cash total and locked the register drawer.
A few moments later, I grabbed my wool coat off the hook on the wall and switched off the lights. With Bryan beside me, I flipped the sign to closed, then locked the front door after we stepped through it.
Outside, we turned together and walked side by side beneath faded awnings and mostly closed shops. Lost in my own thoughts, I twirled the looped end of a long string of beads. He plunged his hands in his jacket pockets, his wide shoulders hunched. Whether from the chill in the air or worry inside his head, I wasn’t sure. In a pool of light from a streetlight at the end of the block, we stopped to wait for the crosswalk signal to change.
Finally, he spoke. “I’m not willing to give up being friends, and I don’t see why I should when you and War aren’t even dating anymore.”
“The band,
it’s your ticket out of all of this.” I gestured widely at the dilapidated squalor surrounding us. Homeless people hunkered inside cardboard houses. Sirens. Gunshots. Shouting between two angry, rough-looking guys on the other side of the street.
“Yeah, there’s that,” he said as the signal changed. Placing his hand on my lower back, he guided me across the street. The angry shouting faded as we hurried along. “Not to be too arrogant about it, but do you really think War’s gonna get rid of me, the best guitarist he has, just because I’m friends with his ex?”
“Yes, I do.” I raised a brow. “This is War we’re talking about.”
“I disagree. I think we can be friends if we’re not in his face about it.”
“But last night—”
“Last night, I wasn’t thinking straight. We just have to avoid situations where he might misconstrue things.”
I gave that some consideration, wanting to believe Bryan was right.
“Or is that not the real issue for you?” he asked, giving me a long look as we turned onto the street that led to my uncle’s place.
“Of course it is.” I didn’t want Bryan to jeopardize his future for me. “What other reason could there be?”
“Maybe you’re afraid being friends with me would interfere with you getting War back.”
Shocked, I stopped, and Bryan stopped with me, his gaze shadowed since we were between streetlights. “War isn’t taking me back.” That would involve apologies and forgiveness on both sides. I couldn’t even fathom a situation with that occurring.
“That’s not my question.” Stepping closer, Bryan gently lifted my chin.
“No,” I whispered, my skin tingling where he touched me. “I’m not afraid of that.”
What I truly feared was losing Bryan for good.
“So, you don’t have any plans to try to get War back?” Bryan was so close, his breath misted my lips, and his seductive scent swirled around me.
“No, I don’t.” I didn’t have any plans except to bask in the warm glow of him right now.
The heat rolling off Bryan was insane. I imagined getting closer to that fire. Placing my hands on his chest, I’d go up on my toes and tilt my head back while he lowered his.
“Okay, then it’s decided.” His grip tightened on my arms, and he drew me a little closer. “During the week, I don’t see any reason why I can’t continue walking you home from school. Same as before, but better without War dictating everything.”
Numb, I nodded, and he continued talking about what we could and couldn’t do while I watched his lips move and imagined them moving together with mine.
I was screwed.
I was so into Bryan, a guy I could never have except on a limited and most likely temporary basis.
War
I was totally fucked.
In the garage, sitting on an amp, waiting on the guys to show up for band practice, I replayed the events of the weekend in my head. Sunday had begun just like Saturday, with me recovering from booze and drugs, and I didn’t even get laid. Not because I didn’t have offers, but because I refused them. I didn’t want just any pussy. I wanted one. I wanted only Lace.
When had this happened?
When had she gotten so deeply embedded under my skin that other chicks seemed almost unappealing?
“Hey.” Sager made eye contact with me as he ambled up the driveaway, surprisingly without his best friend. “You’re here early.”
“So are you.” I shrugged. “Had nothing better to do.”
“Me either. King’s at counseling. Should be here shortly.”
Sager set his bass case down near me, chose one of the assortment of lawn chairs hanging on pegs on the wall, and brought it back to where I was. Unfolding it, he took a seat.
“What’s up with you?” he asked.
“Not a whole lot,” I said, not studying him as closely as he studied me. I was too busy alternating between looking at the back door to the house while also watching the driveway.
Was Lace inside the house? Or was she out with that basketball buddy of hers?
Chad had the hots for Missy, but I knew he’d had a thing for Lace first. I’d had a discussion with him about his interest in her. One involving a threat from me should he ever cross the friends-only line with her.
“You don’t look so good,” Sager said as he clacked open the latches on his Fender case.
Refocusing on him, I watched him withdraw a small sketch pad from a felt-lined compartment in his case. “Thanks for noticing,” I grumbled.
“Drugs will mess you up. Mess up the group. Mess up everything in your life.”
“Who said I was doing drugs?” I asked.
“People talk.” Pencil in one hand, he flipped through the pages on his pad. “Heard you hit the shit pretty hard this weekend.”
“I might have,” I said noncommittally.
There were lots of portraits in his book—a dignified old lady with her hair in a bun, King, and Lace. Sager stopped on an unfinished one of me.
“Go back,” I demanded.
“Huh?” He gave me a blank look.
“I wanna see the picture you drew of Lace.”
“It’s not finished.” He flipped back, and when I reached for his pad, he let me have it.
“Looks finished to me,” I whispered. “Beautifully finished.” He’d captured her expressive eyes perfectly and her wide kissable lips. I hovered my thumb over the regal sweep of her high cheekbones.
“You can have that one, if you want. I have more.”
“Nah.” I swallowed to moisten my dry throat. I didn’t need to torture myself. I handed him the sketch pad back. “Who’s the older lady with the bun?”
“King’s abuelita.” Grandmother.
“Thought so.” I nodded reflectively. “King talks about her a lot. So do you.”
“She’s really cool. Been through a lot. Wise.” Sager eyed me for a long beat. “What’re you gonna do?”
“About what?” I returned a question for a question, and he gave me a funny look.
“About Lace?”
I frowned. “I’m done with her.”
“If you say so.” He shrugged. “But if you want some advice—”
“I don’t.”
“But if you did.” He gave me a pointed look. “Abuelita always says, ‘El amor es como el agua que no se seca.’”
Sager’s Spanish was flawless. He lived with the Acenados. They’d taken him in after some really fucked-up shit went down with his drug-dealing brother. But as perfectly spoken as his Spanish had been, I still couldn’t figure out what he said.
“What the fuck does that mean?” I asked.
“Love is like water that never evaporates.”
“Even in English that doesn’t make fucking sense.”
“True love lasts forever.”
“True love is bullshit,” I said flippantly.
But what if I was wrong?
“It’s rare,” Sager said, sketching on his pad. “I agree. But some people find it. King’s parents have. It’s not impossible.”
Did I love Lace? I had no fucking clue.
She drove me batshit crazy, and I thought about her all the time. Jacked off to her too many times to mention. I’d changed and rearranged my whole life to include her. She made my empty life seem full, and without her, it reverted to empty.
Laughter—her laughter—drifted to my ears, and my heart started pounding. My eyes burned. I leaned forward, straining to see her.
When she appeared, it was like she was surrounded by light. Her golden hair framed her pretty face, and she was wearing her schoolgirl garb. But Lace wasn’t alone. It wasn’t the basketball dude at her side. It was Bryan.
My hands curled into my palms. The light extinguished in a sudden downpour of red. I’m going to kill him.
“No hay peor sordo que el que no quiere oír,” Sager said softly.
“What the hell?” I asked.
“There isn’t a worse deaf person tha
n the one who doesn’t want to hear. There is none so blind as he who will not see. You’re in love with Lace, War.”
“Maybe.”
“Whatever you want to believe, man. Get her back or get over her. The choice is up to you. But if you intend to get her back, I wouldn’t wait too long.”
Lace
Life was better with Bryan and me as friends. I was free to do as I liked, but not quite, since War was never far from my mind or far away. Every weekday, I saw him at school and at the house in the evening for band practice.
On Monday when I’d seen him sitting on the amp, the glare he’d given me when I arrived with Bryan had stopped me in my tracks. My laughter had died and my smile disappeared, and so had the brief euphoria from believing Bryan’s plan could work.
And that was just the War side of the equation.
The other part that made it impossible for me to be Bryan’s friend was me.
I didn’t have friend-only type feelings for Bryan. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted him to touch me. I was hyperaware of him as a man and me as a woman. The imagining and yearnings didn’t stop with War not being my boyfriend. They accelerated.
“Whatcha doing tonight for your birthday?” Bryan asked me on the way home from school.
“Chad asked me to come to his game, then he’s taking me out to Dick’s Drive-In for ice cream.”
“That sounds nice.” Bryan’s brow creased beneath his wind-tousled hair.
“Is something wrong with that plan?” I fidgeted with the crystal buttons on my wool sweater set.
“No, of course not. It’s just that . . .” He trailed off, and the crease between his brows deepened.
“Did you want to come with me to the game?” I asked, wishing he would say yes.
“Yes,” he said, then quickly backtracked. “No. I mean, I can’t.”
“Why not?” My voice rose, my disappointment obvious.
“War wants me to tag along with him to visit a couple of new clubs downtown.”
“To get more gigs?”
“Yeah, we’re going to try out with a stripped-down sampler of Tempest’s set list. He sings, and I play the guitar.”
Southside High Page 17
