by Mia Belle
Normally I’d tell her to shut up, but I need the distraction.
“I wish I knew more about them…” Her hazel eyes light up. “I know!” She leaps to my computer and slams her butt down, typing away at the keys like her fingers are running a marathon.
“You’ll have to buy me a new computer if you wreck it,” I say as I lower myself in the seat next to her. “What are you doing?”
She pulls up a Google page, where she types in Zane Armstrong. There are a few hits, including social media sites. But none of them are him.
She twists her nose. “I guess a loner like Zane might not have social media. What about Caleb?” She punches his name in the search bar, only to get nowhere. “Huh. I didn’t think the name Caleb Armstrong would be so common. Let’s try Aidan next.” She whacks away, then frowns. “Aidan Armstrong is even more common. But ugh! None of these are him.”
“Oh well.”
“No way. I’m a girl on a mission.” She taps her fingers against her chin. “What do we know about them?”
I shrug.
“I doubt we can search for ‘hot guy with shaggy black hair.’” With a huff, she bangs her back against the chair and folds her arms. “No fair. How can I get to know them better if they don’t have social media?”
“Maybe the way they did it in the old days?” I suggest. “By talking to them?”
She slaps my arm. Then she gets up and stalks to my window, pulling the slats apart. “Just my luck. He’s not there the night I decide to sleepover.”
I playfully narrow my eyes at her. “Tell me the truth. Are you only here because of Zane?”
She spins around and mockingly places her hand over her heart. “How can you suggest such a thing?”
I give her a who-are-you-kidding look.
“C’mon, Lia. You know I’m here because of you. But spying on Zane is an added bonus.”
“I’m sure,” I mumble.
She snatches the TV remote and gets comfy on my bed. “How about The Notebook?”
“Again?”
She rolls her shoulders. “I’m in the mood for a good cry.”
“Okay.” I settle down near her and load the movie. Truth is, I’m not really in the mood for this right now. It’s a great movie, and I love romance, but this whole Josh thing is messing me up. I’d rather watch people blow other people’s brains out than a man and woman falling head over heels for each other. But I’m doing this for Sophie.
A few minutes into the movie, I take the remote and pause the TV.
“How could you do that!”
“Sophie, why do you want to be friends with Alexis?”
She gives me a look like I beamed down from Mars. “What are you talking about? Everyone wants to be friends with Alexis. She’s one of the most popular girls at school.”
“Could you be any more cliché? Didn’t we discuss in middle school how we weren’t going to fall prey to all that bullshit?”
She plays with her strawberry blonde hair. “People change. I didn’t know back then how important it would be.”
“Being popular is so important?”
She throws her hands up. “Yes! Who doesn’t want to be loved by everyone? What girl doesn’t want to have the hottest guys in school chase after her?”
Me? “But she’s not a good person, Sophie.”
She clenches her jaw. “You don’t know her. You’re just making assumptions. But if you got to know her, you’d see that she’s actually a good person.”
“People like her are never good,” I mutter.
“She’s not like Josh and his asshole friends. Just because she’s rich, it doesn’t make her a bitch.”
I shrug.
She hauls herself off the bed and peeks out through the slats. Releasing a squeal, she pulls on the cord. “You’re here! Finally. I’ve been waiting for you.”
Chapter Seventeen
Zane
After my shower, I grab my sketchpad and pencils and climb into my window, letting my legs dangle outside. If Craig or Julia knew I was doing this, they’d ground my ass ‘til I’m thirty. It’s not like I’ve got a death wish. Just like doing it—looking at the stars and picturing myself floating in space. And I’m not the only one who loves looking at the sky.
My gaze flits to the window next door, where the blinds are drawn. But two of the slats are pulled apart, and I see Lia and Sophie sitting at Lia’s desk. They’re talking about the tour she gave me and Caleb.
She’s scowling. Like it was torture to be within ten feet of me.
Opening my sketchpad, I flip to the latest drawing I’m working on. The trees outside. Willow Lake’s got lots of them, unlike New York City. Sure they have a few, but they’re no match for these. It was oddly refreshing to breathe in the air when we first moved here.
I look at her window again, my eyes sweeping over her wrists hidden by her sleeves. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help thinking about what I saw. And the way she reacted at the party. Dammit. I didn’t mean to hurt her…just needed to…I don’t know.
Shutting my eyes, I clear my head, count to ten, anything to help me forget about my shitty past. And what I suspect about hers. Cuts like those don’t just happen. There’s a reason for them.
Lia’s sad and angry eyes float before my head, then they slowly shift into a joyful smile on a bright face. That’s how she should be captured.
Opening my eyes, I flip to a clean page and scrape my pencil, creating soft strokes. Her face is clear in my mind, like I’ve embedded every detail into my brain. Her curly brown hair is definitely something I’ve never seen before. Pretty hot.
My scraping comes to a halt when my name is mentioned.
“I bet you’re secretly crushing on Zane. I mean, how could any girl stay sane when he’s got abs like that? And his hair.” Sophie sighs the way girls do at male celebrities. “It just begs to be worked through. And did I mention his eyes? They’re the color of—”
“Grass.”
“Huh?”
“Like fresh, vibrant grass. Not the ugly, yellowy, dying kind.”
My lips quirk up into a smile as my pencil continues to sweep across the sketchpad.
Their conversation takes another turn. Lia is talking about a guy named Josh and his friends. The boys we met on the tour? Far as I know, they go to some other school. They mentioned something about a guy getting out of juvie? They blamed Lia for sending him there. I’ve got no clue what they were talking about, but I’m pretty damn curious.
Not that Lia would ever tell me. Her blinds will probably remain shut until she goes off to college. If I were her, I’d shut me out, too. Just wish she’d understand that I didn’t mean her any harm.
Lia summarizes what happened on the tour with those assholes, but she doesn’t tell her friend about the one who told her to jump off a building. Man, if Caleb hadn’t intervened, I might have killed him. And that scares me. As much as I wanted him to choke on his words, it was a good thing my cousin stopped me.
Not wanting to think about how dangerous I could be, I focus on my drawing. From the first day I noticed how pretty her green eyes are. Unlike my dull ones.
Like fresh, vibrant grass. Her words ring in my brain. My gut tightens in this painful way that feels good at the same time.
I shake my head and mutter, “You’re a dumbshit, Zane.”
More of their conversation floats into my ears. A restraining order? Fuck, what did that asshole do to her?
“Zane!” Julia calls from downstairs.
I climb into the room and stick my head out the door. “Yeah?”
“Can you change the lightbulb in the kitchen? It’s been flickering all day.”
“Sure, one sec.”
I spend a few minutes on that, then return to my room and sit in the window with my sketchpad. Sophie and Lia are watching a movie. I focus on my drawing.
I don’t know how much time passes before her blinds are lifted. I raise my head, expecting to see my neighbor, but it’s Sophi
e. Her gaze dips to my drawing, and I quickly shut the pad.
Her eyes dance with excitement as they scan me from top to bottom. I’ve got a thin T-shirt on and pajama bottoms. Maybe it’s a little too cold to sit out here like this, but the weather doesn’t bother me.
Sophie squeezes her arms over her chest to protect herself from the wind. “You’re here! Finally. I’ve been waiting for you.”
I hold her gaze, stupidly wishing for Lia to join her. “Yeah. Surprisingly, I’m in my room.”
She laughs hard, her gaze dipping to my closed pad again. “You draw? Cool. Can I see?”
“No.”
She forces a wide smile. “We’re watching a movie. Wanna join?”
I peer into her window, where Lia is squeezing the crap out of her pillow. Her eyes meet mine and they harden. I don’t see the anger, though. I see the pain. Shit.
“No,” I say. “Can’t.”
She purses her lips. “Come on. You can sneak in. It’s not like Lia’s dad will notice. Or you can climb in here.”
I calculate the distance between our houses. “If you want me to break my neck…”
She laughs. “Right. That wouldn’t work.”
“Leave him alone, Sophie,” Lia says. “I don’t want him to come.”
Her gaze catches mine, her lips pressed in a tight line.
Sophie rolls her eyes. “Seriously,” she whispers to me. “She needs a boyfriend. Like right now. But not you,” she quickly adds.
Seems like she wants to cut every guys’ balls off. Fuck that Josh guy. I know he’s the reason she’s this way.
“I’m the guest,” Sophie says, more to Lia than to me. “And I think he should watch the movie with us.”
Lia crosses her arms over her chest, giving me another hard glare.
“Don’t worry. I’m gone. Enjoy your movie.” I slide into my room, clutching my pad close. I look at Lia for a few seconds before turning around and walking out of my room.
I nearly collide with Aidan on his way to his room. His hangover is pretty much gone and he appears like his usual self.
He pushes past me, but I grab his arm. “What you did at the party wasn’t cool.”
He shoves my hand off. “I got an earful from you already. And my parents.”
“I’m just looking out for you. You’re not in a good place right now.”
He pulls free. “And you are? Come on, man. We’re all not happy, especially you. So cut the bullshit.”
I hold up my hands. “Fine, I’ll lay off your ass. But promise me one thing.”
He lifts a brow.
“Stay away from alcohol.”
He pushes some blond hair out of his eyes, understanding exactly what I’m getting at. If my dad hadn’t drank so much, there’s a high chance both he and my mom would still be here. My brother would be in my life. We’d all be one big happy family.
“I know,” he tells me. “Believe me, I don’t want to go near that shit again.”
I stare at him to try to determine if he’s serious. Far as I can tell, he is. “Fine.”
“Fine.” He makes his way to his room.
Still clutching my sketchpad, I go down the stairs and out the door. Far, far away from Lia and the hatred and pain in her eyes.
Chapter Eighteen
Lia
So much for the movie. Sophie’s out cold. Maybe it’s due to the hangover. I pull my blanket up to her chin and crawl out of bed as carefully and silently as I can. There’s no way I’ll fall asleep before elven PM. I’m not even sure if I’ll get much sleep tonight. Not after what happened today with Josh’s friends. I’m not worried about my safety, but the altercation has definitely triggered memories I’ve tried so hard to bury. Add that to mourning over my mom, and I’m in for a rough night.
I flop down at my computer, hoping to lose myself in mindless yet funny YouTube videos. But just as I’m about to type in the web address, I catch sight of the Google search bar. I glance back at Sophie, watching her chest rise and fall steadily, her face at peace. She always puts on a smile, but I know she’s dealing with stuff. Her parents’ bickering tears her heart in half. Maybe that’s why she’s so desperate to have a boyfriend—because she wants something stable in her life. Something that will make her happy. Someone who will love her. To show her he cares. I’ve been totally useless in that department. I’m the worst best friend in the world.
I don’t want to have anything to do with the guys next door, but the least I could do is try to support her. So I delete the previous search entry and start a new one. Aidan Armstrong football.
Way too many hits.
I try Aidan Armstrong football New York City.
That narrows it down, but only slightly. I sigh in frustration. Skimming over the results, I don’t find anything regarding the Aidan Armstrong next door. I check a few more results before giving up. I guess Sophie will just have to get to know them the old fashioned way.
I’m about to close the webpage, when the last result on the bottom of the page catches my attention. Aidan Bowman, rising football star. I click on it. Aidan’s face flashes before my eyes.
I stare at the photo for a few seconds before soaking in the article. It discusses the rising new high school football star Aidan Bowman.
Why does he have a different last name?
I quickly type in Caleb Bowman. A social media page pops up. But when I click on it, I get Page Not Found.
I try the same for Zane Bowman, but there aren’t any results. The same goes for Julia and Craig Bowman.
Sitting back in my chair, I run my hand through my hair. They changed their last name. But why?
“Hey neighbor,” the familiar voice says from outside my window.
My head twists in that direction and I notice my blinds are lifted. Sophie forgot to lower it. Zane is once again sitting in the window with his legs hanging over the edge. The sketchpad sits closed on his lap. The pajama shirt he’s got on is so tight and thin I can see the muscles bulging out of his chest and arms. A hard swallow makes its way down my throat.
I quickly tear my eyes away and find the article about Aidan on the screen. Shoot. I quickly minimize it. But I doubt Zane saw it. He’s not at the right angle.
“I guess the movie wasn’t good.” He nods to the sleeping Sophie.
I fold my arms over my chest and move closer to the window as to not wake her. “No. The Notebook is her favorite movie. She’s just tired.”
He nods in understanding. “Right. Should have assumed that.”
I lift a brow. “Assumed what?”
“Don’t all girls like that movie?”
“Stop assuming things about girls. Not all girls like that movie. Just as all guys don’t necessarily like—”
“I like The Notebook, too,” he says. “Favorite romance movie.”
Now both my brows lift.
“I’m serious.”
“If you knew what movie we were watching and you’ve seen it, why did you ask me if it’s good?”
He shrugs. “To make conversation?”
“I’m closing the blinds. Sophie needs sleep.”
“Wait,” he says as I reach for the cord.
I look at him impatiently. I don’t know why I’m even talking to him.
He looks past me at Sophie before leaning forward. His soft voice drifts over the wind. “I want to apologize. About last night. I shouldn’t have…I’m sorry I invaded your privacy.”
“Yeah, you shouldn’t have. But I appreciate the apology. Good night.” I yank on the cord.
“Wait.”
The blinds are halfway down. I can only see his legs.
“Can you please lift it?”
With an internal groan, I do as he asks.
“I don’t want us to be like this,” he admits. “We’re neighbors and we should be neighborly.”
“Okay. Whatever.” I make a move to lower the blinds again.
“Amelia, can you just wait a damn moment? I’m trying to talk to you
.”
I glare at him. “Maybe I don’t want to talk to you. And don’t use my full name.”
He lifts his hands in surrender, the movement causing his sketchpad to slide down his thighs. He quickly catches it before it plummets to the ground. “That would have been bad.” He chucks it into his room.
I have to admit that I’m a little curious about his drawings. What kind of thoughts and feelings are inside that head of his?
“Sorry about using your full name. I think it’s a pretty name. A beautiful one.”
I freeze for a second, then get a hold of myself. I don’t give a damn if he thinks my name is beautiful.
He shifts in the window, and I worry for a second that he’ll lose his balance and fall to his death. Why does he have to sit out there like that?
“Lia, look at me.”
I force my eyes his way.
A hard swallow makes its way down his throat. “Just…I want you to know I get it.”
“You get what?”
His eyes dip to the scars hidden by my sleeves.
“Who gives you—?”
“We don’t have to talk about it right now,” he says. “Hell, we don’t have to talk about it ever. I just want you to know that I get it. I get you.”
I grab hold of the cord again. “You don’t get it. You don’t get me. So why don’t you just crawl back from wherever you came from and leave me the hell—”
He reaches behind him for his phone, turns on the flashlight, and shoots out his arm. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the light shining on his skin. But when I do, I stumble back. There are scars on his wrist. On both wrists. Scars so similar to mine but also different. Not as deep. He didn’t do it to try kill himself like me. No, he did it for other reasons.
I just gape at him, a large ball of cotton lodged in my throat.
He shines the flashlight on my face, but I’m too stunned for it to bother me.
“I do get it,” he whispers. “I do get you.”
He climbs into his room, then looks back at me, his eyes laced with pain. He throws me one of his lazy smiles, but I catch the corners tremble. “Good night, Amelia.”
He disappears from view.
