I lean against the balcony railing and stare out at the backyard that stretches for miles with the phone clutched in my hand. It’s quiet. I love the quiet. That might surprise a lot of people considering I’m constantly in the spotlight. I didn’t choose that position, though. It was forced on me in third grade—the start of my downfall.
I was so young and hated almost every moment of my life. The fakeness, the pretending, always putting on a façade … I didn’t want to do some of the stuff I was forced to do, yet I didn’t have a choice. My family’s name depended on it. At least, that’s what my mom told me. Now that I’m older, I understand the bigger picture. I just wish I hadn’t hurt so many people. Most of all, I wish I didn’t hurt Ensley all those years ago. It’s been one of my biggest regrets.
And she’s never given me the time of day since then, even though I’ve try. And I’ve tried a lot. But the only time she’s ever said more than a handful of words to me is during a conversation that I’m pretty sure she was too drunk and high to remember. A conversation where I poured my heart out to her when I was having a really shitty day. But then I felt stupid afterward when I realized how drunk and high she was, and I haven’t been able to really look her in the eye since. Well, except for today. Today I looked her in the eye and asked her out on a date, and she said yes. And it might’ve changed everything.
Of course, she ran off afterward and left me feeling self-conscious and a little uneasy—still am. The feeling is new to me. After years of having girls throw themselves at me, I’ve never had to question if someone really wants me. Ensley is different. Always has been.
I began to really notice her around sophomore year. At first it was simply an attraction, but when I started paying attention to her, I realized how nice of a person she was. How she offered shy smiles to everyone, even when she was nervous. How she never said anything rude to anyone. She never teased people and always helped people who were getting teased. When my friends would knock someone’s books out of their hands or trip them, she’d help them up or pick up their books. Then she’d offer a kind word or two. I was—still am—mesmerized by her sweetness. She’s the kind of person I’ll never be. In fact, I’m probably the complete opposite. I’m the guy who once bullied her.
I’ve been trying to get her to see me differently for a while now, but I don’t think she can stand me. Whenever I’ve tried to tease or flirt with her, she refuses to have any part of it. And I feel like she thinks I’m always making fun of her. I partially blame my sister for that. Like today in the hallway when I cracked a joke about Elodie not being pretty. I think somehow Ensley misinterpreted the joke to be about her, and I’m sure Elodie escalated the situation by thinking the worst of me.
Sure, Elodie and I don’t get along—never really have—but that doesn’t mean I’m a jerk to her every hour of every day. I’ll admit that I’m a jerk more than I should be, and I’ve done stuff to Ensley in the past that justifies her hatred toward me.
But maybe she’s gotten over it finally.
I hope so. I really do.
But doubt weighs in my mind.
It always does when something good seems to come my way.
“Carter, we need to talk.” My dad’s voice floats across my bedroom and I tense.
He has that tone in his voice, the one that means he’s disappointed in me.
The one that means I’m about to be punished.
11
Ensley
The graduation ceremony is everything I expected it to be—a lot of excitement, a lot of chatter, and a lot of reminders of why I’m so glad high school is over. I may be stuck in Fareland for college, but I’m hoping all those sayings about college being better will live up to its reputation.
“Honey, I’m so proud of you.” My mom comes up and hugs me as soon as the ceremony is over.
My aunt Bethany is with her and offers me a smile as my mom continues to squeeze the living daylights out of me. “You know, when I was your age, I would’ve freaked out if my mom tried to hug me in public.” She pats my head like I’m a child. “You’re a good kid, Ensley. You really are. Almost makes me wish I had kids.” She pulls her hand away from my head and musingly smiles. “But then I remember those days when you used to spill your potty training toilet on the floor all the time and I think, yeah, I’m pretty content with being a lonely spinster.” She shakes her head. “You were so small, yet somehow, there was so much shit in that toilet.”
My eyes widen as her remarks draws the attention of a few bystanders. A few of them snicker, and my cheeks flush with embarrassment.
Just remember this is all over, I remind myself. These people no longer matter.
Finally, my mom releases me from her hug. Then she steps back, dabbing the tears from her eyes.
“Okay, enough with the bawl baby fest.” She shoos me away. “Go change out of your robe, and then we’ll go out to lunch.”
“Okay. Be back in a few.” I head out of the gymnasium and toward the back area to turn my robe in.
As I’m rounding the corner, I get sideswiped by a crazy, blonde lunatic.
“We’re free! We’re free!” Elodie chants as she gives me a gentle shove, and then jumps up and down. She’s still wearing her robe, but her cap is off, and somehow her blonde hair is flawlessly in place, while I probably have the worst case of hat hair ever. “We never have to see this place again.”
“Unless you do decide to become a high school teacher and end up here,” I tease. “Then you’ll be stuck here forever.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “If I do decide to teach, it definitely won’t be here.”
I take off my cap and comb my fingers through my hair. “What if you don’t have a choice? What if this is the only place that has an opening for an art teacher?”
She puts her hands on her hips. “That’d never happen, Ens, so stop trying to mess with my head.”
“It could, though.” I press back a grin. “You never know.”
Her lips plummet into a frown. “You suck, dream crusher.”
I decide to stop teasing her. “I know. And I’m sorry. I’m sure that’ll never happen. In fact, I bet you end up teaching some place cool, like in a big city or in a town near a beach.”
She crosses her arms and shakes her head. “Apology not accepted.”
I fake pout. “You’re not going to forgive me?”
She shrugs. “That all depends.”
“On what?”
“On—”
“Hey.” Carter steps up beside us, materializing seemingly out of nowhere. He’s already changed out of his robe and has on a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black jeans, and dress shoes. His blond hair is styled perfectly, as if he didn’t just wear a cap for the last couple of hours.
He’s also holding a short-stemmed, thornless rose in his hand.
“Oh, hey, pretty boy.” Elodie tosses him a smirk. “What do we owe this honor of your ever so great presence?”
“I’m not honoring you with my presence.” He throws me a charming grin. “I’m here to talk to Ensley.”
“So, you’re saying she should be lucky you’re talking to her?” Elodie questions with a crook of her brow. “I really doubt she thinks so.”
I shoot her a questioning look. What is she doing and how the heck does this help her plan?
She ignores my look, focusing on Carter. “Man, your ego’s even bigger than I thought, which is saying a lot.”
He stares at her, unimpressed. “That’s not what I meant, so don’t put words in my mouth.”
“Why?” she asks. “You do it to everyone else.”
“No, I don’t,” he says flatly. “At least, not on purpose. And if they do choose to repeat something I say, it’s not my fault.”
“No, because no one ever chooses to become popular and have people worship them.” Elodie’s tone oozes with sarcasm. “I’m sure it was just something you got stuck with.”
His lip twitches in annoyance, and Elodie grins
like the Cheshire Cat.
“What? No clever comeback from pretty boy today?” she asks.
He rolls his tongue in his mouth, his jaw ticking. “Nope.”
My gaze bounces back and forth between the two of them. What on earth is going on? Since when does Carter refuse to argue with Elodie? For as long as I’ve been friends with her, that’s been their thing. If they didn’t look so similar, no one would ever guess they’re twins. They act about the opposite of a sports car and a classic clunker and argue like two zombies fighting over a piece of brain.
Elodie’s lips pull into a crooked, knowing smile. “That’s what I thought.”
Carter rolls his eyes. “Stop pretending you have some insight into what I do, El. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Elodie simply shrugs. “I know enough.”
His eyes narrow to slits. “No, you just think you know enough.”
“We’re twins.” She taps her temple. “Which means I have some insight into your thoughts.”
Carter’s jaw ticks. “We may be twins, but we sure as hell don’t have any insight to each other’s thoughts. Thankfully.”
“I don’t know about that.” A sly smile spans across her face. “I may know a few things about a few things.”
“Everyone knows a few things about a few things,” Carter says, shaking his head.
I start to back away, knowing they could go on forever, and I need to meet up with my mom and aunt. But the second I move, both their gazes dart toward me.
“Where are you going?” Elodie asks at the same time Carter says, “Hey, before you go, can I talk to you for a second?”
Carter flicks a glance in Elodie’s direction and emphasizes, “Alone.”
Elodie assess him with her eyes narrowed. “Since when do you talk to my friends? Or better yet, since when do you date them?”
Carter’s attention strays in my direction. “You told her about that?”
Confusion swarms my brain. “Was I not supposed to?”
He shakes his head, causing strands of hair to fall into his eyes. “No, it’s fine. I’m just a little surprised.”
“Why?” Elodie fiddles with a bow on the front of the choker she’s wearing. “She’s my best friend.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Carter says. “But there’s no need to get territorial over Ens. I know she’s your friend, and I’m not trying to steal her from you. This isn’t third grade.”
Elodie and I both wince at the mention of third grade.
“I know you aren’t trying to steal her away from me.” Elodie appears confident in her statement.
Me, I question if perhaps this is what him dating me has been about. That maybe he’s trying to get back at Elodie by stealing her best friend away.
“Fine, talk to my BFF alone,” Elodie surrenders, backing away. “Just know that it’s in the BFF code to tell your BFF everything.”
At that, Carter shifts his weight.
Elodie grins, noticing his discomfort.
“Call me later,” she mouths to me then spins on her heels and skips down the hallway toward the exit doors.
Silence stretches between Carter and I, and my palms begin to sweat. This might be the first time since third grade where the two of us have a one-on-one conversation. Well, besides last night, but that was over the phone. Considering how well things went in third grade …
Yeah, this definitely isn’t going to end well.
Carter waits until Elodie is out of sight before looking at me. “I have a feeling your friendship with Elodie is going to make this way more complicated.”
I discreetly wipe my sweaty palms off on the side of my robe. “What’s going to be complicated?”
“Dating you.” He tucks the rose behind my ear. “I got this for you.”
“Thanks,” I say quietly.
But on the inside, his little gesture has caused three things to happen:
1). My heart thunders in my chest.
2). My mind races with confusion.
And 3). I feel sorry for Carter because, unlike him and Elodie, my hair isn’t immune to the yuckiness that comes from wearing a cap for a couple of hours straight. I can only imagine how sweaty the strands are and that sweat is probably all over his fingers now.
Surprisingly, he doesn’t wipe off his hand after he pulls back. I must have a funny expression on my face, though, because he gives me a confusedly curious look.
“What?”
“What what?” I reply dumbly, not wanting to tell him
“You have this look on your face.” He eyes me over intensely, causing butterflies to erupt to life in my stomach. I tell them to chillax, that they’re not part of the plan, that they’ll ruin the plan.
“Do I?” I pretend to be stupidly clueless. “I guess that’s not too weird if you really think about it, since everyone always has some sort of look on their face.”
“Clever.” Amusement dances in his eyes. “Seriously, what’re you thinking about?”
I recline back against the brick wall behind me. “No way. I don’t just share my thoughts with complete strangers.”
He presses his hand to his heart, feigning hurt. “You think I’m a stranger? You’ve known me for almost ten years.”
“But we’ve maybe talked, like, ten times over those ten years.” I also want to point out that during those ten times we chatted, he wasn’t very nice to me. But not wanting to ruin the plan, I bite down on my tongue.
“That’s not true at all.” He’s either serious or a damn good liar.
My bet’s on the latter.
“Are you being serious right now?” I measure his reaction closely.
He nods without a hint of humor. “I am.”
My brows pull together as my mind staggers toward the Land of Confusion.
He chuckles. “You really don’t remember, do you?”
“Huh …?” Oh, my hell, what is happening right now? Is he messing with me?
He rubs his hand across his scruffy jawline, which I find a bit odd. Carter is almost always cleanly shaven.
“I kind of wondered if you didn’t, but I was hoping you did.” He drops his hand to his side. “Such a shame. It was a great conversation.”
I eye him over, still unsure whether he’s messing with me or not. “Maybe you should remind me, then.”
He shakes his head, his gaze never wavering from mine. “Nah, I’d rather you just remember on your own.”
“Well, unfortunately, I don’t think I’m going to since I don’t have the tiniest ounce of recognition of this alleged great conversation we shared.” I cross my arms and wait, figuring he’ll either announce he was teasing me or tell me all about this so-called conversation. Instead, he gives me that smile and those damn butterflies sing to life again.
Mental note: Figure out a way to get rid of butterflies ASAP.
He keeps on grinning. “You know what? I think I’m going to hold on to the secret until it drives you so crazy you’ll beg me to tell you.”
“That’ll never happen.”
“We’ll see.”
“Fine, don’t tell me,” I say with a cool shrug. “Just so you know, I know secrets about you, too.”
He responds with a lazy shrug. “I’m sure you do.”
I huff an exasperated breath. “Has anyone ever told you how annoying you can be?”
“Actually, no.” He studies me with his head tilted to the side. “Are you trying to tell me I am?”
“Right now you are.” Why in the crazy butterflies am I being so truthful?
He laughs. Freakin’ laughs. His eyes crinkling around the corners and everything.
“You’re cute.”
“Yeah, okay.” Sarcasm drips from my tone, but my cheeks start to warm.
He stops laughing and a crease forms between his brows. “I didn’t mean that as a bad thing.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.” I scratch my arm, growing fidgety over the topic.
I start to walk away
as the past catches up with me.
Deep down, underneath the years of being teased, I understand my reaction is silly. That calling me cute isn’t an insult. But, at the same time, he once told me I looked like a boy. And just yesterday, he told me I wasn’t pretty. So, why now, only a day later, is he telling me I’m cute? It makes no sense at all. Unless he’s playing a game.
“Ens, wait.” Carter wraps his fingers around my arm before I make it very far.
I freeze, deliberating whether to slip my arm out of his hold and run or stay and hear him out.
“What?” The girl with a crush side of me wins.
He pulls me closer to him and, like an idiot, I let him.
“Whatever I said, I’m sorry,” he whispers, his lips close to my ear.
I swallow a shaky breath, fighting back a shiver, loathing how much my body wants him. “You mean, for what you just said?”
He doesn’t answer right away, grazing his finger along the inside of my wrist where my pulse is pounding. “Whatever you thought I said that was mean … I didn’t mean it.”
“Okay.” I’m not sure what else to say since I’m not one hundred percent sure what he’s apologizing for.
“Good.” Then he turns me around so I’m facing him.
My gaze automatically drops to his shoes. It’s such a bad habit. I really need to break it. Apparently, Carter thinks so, too, because he hitches his finger under my chin and angles my head up until our gazes collide.
“You know, you should really stop doing that.” A playful gleam twinkles in his eyes.
His shift in attitude makes my head spin with dizziness.
“Stop doing what?”
“Looking down instead of making eye contact. You do that a lot.”
He noticed that?
I shrug. “I probably should, but it’s become a habit.”
“Well, you should break it.” With his free hand, he gently grazes his thumb underneath my eye. “Your eyes are too gorgeous. Don’t hide them.”
The Unexpcted Complications of Revenge Page 6
