The Me I Meant to Be

by Sophie Jordan

  Ava flinched and took a big step back from the closet like it was suddenly contagious.

  I nodded toward the closet. “I’ll get Zach and let him know you’re not up for ten minutes in the closet with him tonight.” I narrowed my gaze on her pointedly. “Or ever.”

  Ava nodded, hanging her head, clearly cowed, but longing still glimmered in her eyes when she snuck a peek toward the cracked door of the closet. I well understood the lure of Zach Tucker.

  Sighing, I wondered if she was still going to find Zach later and plaster herself over him when there were no witnesses. God. Did Zach have to have so many girls crushing on him? He was stressing me out.

  I stepped inside the closet, instantly plunging myself into darkness.

  Blinded as I was, the space still felt large. No surprise in a house this size. Stepping forward, I held my hands out in front of me so that I didn’t run into anything.

  “Zach?” I whispered. Why was I whispering?

  And why was my heart beating so hard suddenly?

  The door snicked shut after me, dulling the sounds of the party. I whirled around, wondering if it had shut on its own or if someone had closed it for laughs.

  All at once I felt like I was in a tomb. Far removed from the party and the world in general.

  Turning back around, I flexed my fingers in front of me, meeting only air.

  “Thought you changed your mind and weren’t coming.” Zach’s disembodied voice was different—​deeper and growly—​and I realized this was how he talked to girls when he flirted.

  Girls he planned to kiss.

  Girls like Flor and Ava.

  Girls who weren’t me.

  Maybe I should forgive all those girls for their infatuation with him. Maybe I needed to be more patient with Flor. Because that voice? It was like cashmere on skin.

  Something brushed my shoulder, gossamer soft, and I jumped. The touch solidified, and I identified it as a hand. Zach’s hand. The familiar ache in my chest returned, and I pressed a hand there, rubbing as though I could get rid of it.

  “I—” The word stuck in my throat. I swallowed and tried again. “She—”

  I almost said it. Almost got the words out. Almost explained that I wasn’t Ava. That she wasn’t coming. That it was me. The girl he’d ridden bikes with as a kid. The girl who’d hunted for frogs with him in the ditch behind the park.

  Almost. But then his other hand touched me, tangling in my hair and reeling me in like a fish snared on a line.

  I guess he didn’t notice that my hair was a wild springy tangle and not Ava’s sleek, flat-ironed perfection. He tugged me forward by a fistful of curls, rocking me against his chest.

  “Zach.” His name rushed out of me in a strangled little croak. Unrecognizable. The hand in my hair tightened. It wasn’t a gentle grip but it didn’t hurt, either. It felt . . . real. Like how a man might handle a woman he desired. Real and totally out of my experience.

  Butterflies took off in my stomach.

  He laughed softly. “You’re shaking.”

  I couldn’t form words, but my mind was spinning with responses. Because guys don’t usually touch me like this. Because you never have. Only in my dreams.

  His laugh faded, and it was just the slow rasp of his breath in the darkness. My heart felt like a sledgehammer pounding brutally in my chest. Pressed together like we were, I was sure he felt it too. God. The people outside this room probably heard it.

  The moment to tell him that it was me he was holding, that I wasn’t Ava, was fading fast. It was already going to be weird and awkward when I announced it.

  I took a breath, ready to spit out the truth and put an end to this, but he stole the words, the breath, right out from me.

  He kissed me.

  GIRL CODE #6:

  Never leave a party without letting your girls know.

  Flor

  CROWDS never bothered me, because I was a people person. I always had been. I liked parties. The bigger and louder the better. Except tonight it wasn’t helping my mood. I guess when you’re trying to flee your life, you resent getting stuck in the middle of a bunch of football players chugging on beer bongs. Too bad I hadn’t realized this sooner.

  Everyone kept stopping to talk to me or thrust alcohol at me like it was the cure for everything. It was like being at one of my father’s family reunions with all my great-aunts pushing pozole on me because they thought I needed fattening up.

  I forced a smile. Stopped. Chatted. Sipped from a red Solo cup. Never let them see you upset. All the while I inched in the direction of the front door, which felt so miserably far away. Escape.

  After what felt like forever I finally managed to break free.

  “Hey, Flor!”

  I gave the obligatory wave in the direction of whoever had called my name, not bothering to look. I needed to get out of here. This party was a bad idea. Willa was right. I wished I had listened to her.

  It was too crowded. Too hot. Too . . . everything.

  “Flor!” Jenna’s hand landed on my arm. “Been looking for you! You leaving so soon?”

  Somehow in her search for me she’d managed to pick up Trevor Webber. He was glued to her side. Ick.

  His glassy stare could have been alcohol-induced or just his usual glassy stare. It was anyone’s guess.

  His heavy arm draped over her shoulders looked sweaty and uncomfortable, and not for the first time I wished she would fixate on anyone other than him. He was wearing a blue shirt, fitted closely to reveal his physique, but it also showcased the large sweat stains under his armpits.

  “Yeah, tell Willa for me, would you?”

  “Why are you leaving?” Her eyes narrowed. “Is it Ava and Zach?”

  “No.” I cut a swift glance to Trevor. His gaze fixed on me. Who knew how much he was absorbing? I would assume not a lot, but I didn’t want to risk talking in front of him. I didn’t need the entire school knowing just how hung up I was on my ex.

  He released a beer belch. “You should stay, Flor. Hang out.”

  Ew. Even the suggestion to “hang out” sounded obscene coming from him.

  “How are you getting home?” Jenna demanded.

  I shrugged. “I’ll walk.” It was maybe a mile. The fresh air would feel good after being stuck in this house with all these overstimulated jocks. Forget about the fact that one of those overstimulated jocks was my ex-boyfriend and I wanted him back.

  Zach wasn’t like them. He was never a jerk. Even breaking up with me, he had been nice about it. Sure, he was mostly avoiding me now, but he wasn’t trash-talking, at least. And God knew people were salivating for salacious details.

  That was a rarity among my peers. I’d dated enough to know that when things ended . . . well. Things never ended well. There was no such thing as that. Typically, you couldn’t rely on the guy to be decent. No, that was when his true colors came out. That was when you knew. If the guy wasn’t trash-talking you to anyone, then maybe he was a keeper after all.

  Zach was honorable. He might have broken my heart, but he wasn’t adding fuel to the fire.

  No. He was just making out in a closet with Ava right now.

  Fabulous.

  Even as I was leaving, kids were still pouring in through the front door. I sucked in a bracing breath, letting the crisp air fill my lungs.

  This party wasn’t long for this world. It was only a matter of time before the cops showed up. I dug into my pocket and fished out my phone to fire a text to Willa. I didn’t completely trust Jenna to relay my message to her.

  Walking home. You should leave. Party too big. Cops probably on way.

  As I glanced back to the house, it occurred to me that I should have warned Jenna, too. She needed taking care of more than Willa. Especially at parties.

  I copied the text and sent it to Jenna before starting down the wide sidewalk for home.

  My phone vibrated and I glanced down. It was from Jenna. So lame! Come back.

  I typed back: Just find
Willa and go home. I tucked my phone into my pocket.

  Silent houses flowed past on my left and right. A sprinkler went off, chugging determinedly on the night air.

  A car passed me. Then braked. The tiny hairs on my arms vibrated as I stared at those brake lights. I was very aware of my situation. Teenage girl walking alone late at night. It was like I was a 48 Hours episode in the making.

  I froze, ready to bolt as the car reversed back toward me. The window rolled down and I let out an easy breath as Grayson stuck his head out. “Flor. What are you doing?”

  I ducked my head to better see him. It was weird. Even in the dark, even with the shield of his glasses, his eyes were gleaming black. I had brown eyes too, but mine weren’t like this. His eyes would be visible in the dark, like glittering coal in a dark mine.

  “Walking home.” I motioned behind me. “Were you at Sharla’s party?” I asked, even though it didn’t seem likely. I’d never seen him at any parties.

  “Me? No. Tutoring a freshman.”

  “On a Friday night?”

  “His parents aren’t satisfied with a B in geometry.”

  “Wow. Tough parents.” But I was referring to him. He was tutoring on a Friday night. Didn’t he have a social life? Didn’t he do things for fun?

  He nodded, looked straight ahead at the quiet residential street and then back at me. “You want a ride?”

  I hesitated for a moment and then shrugged. “Yeah. Sure.”

  I walked around and opened the passenger door. It groaned like it was dying. I waited as he unloaded all his books and his laptop bag from the passenger seat. There were even books on the floor. I bent and handed those to him so he could add them to the pile in the back.

  Sinking into the seat, I slammed the creaky door shut after me. “So this is what you do on your weekends, then? Tutor?”

  “And you walk home from parties by yourself?”

  I settled my hands on my knees and inhaled, not about to explain why I was walking home from a party alone. This guy had already seen enough of my life. He didn’t need another peek inside. The idea was for the world to think I had my act together. I was Flor Hidalgo, soccer player, (mostly) good student, always ready for fun . . . and, up until ten days ago, Zach Tucker’s girlfriend.

  “Where’s your nice car?” I didn’t know he even paid attention to what I drove. It seemed the kind of thing that wouldn’t interest him.

  I seemed like the kind of thing that wouldn’t interest him.

  “My friend drove me tonight, and I was ready to leave the party before she was.” A beat of silence fell. “I never see you at any parties.”

  “Don’t have time. I tutor on weekends because I need the money for college.”

  “Aren’t you a National Merit Scholar?” I heard his name in the announcements. And there was some kind of display with his picture in the library. It was a bad picture. He wasn’t smiling, and there was a glare on his glasses that hid his eyes. Not that I had examined it today at school or anything. I’d just noticed. “Doesn’t that pretty much pave the way for you?”

  He turned onto my street. “Even with a full ride, there are things like food, clothes, a car payment . . . toothpaste.” I stared at his profile. A faint smile hugged his mouth. “That kind of thing, you know?”

  No. I didn’t know. Because my dad might not have been the most attentive of fathers lately, but he paid for everything. He never withheld money. I had my own credit card, and he never said anything about my spending habits. I couldn’t imagine what that was like. Working because you had to buy your own toothpaste. Not all my friends were rich, but even those of modest means like Willa didn’t have to worry about paying for their own food.

  I skimmed my hand along the inside of the door, where the old vinyl was warped and cracked. This ancient car couldn’t have cost much. “You make payments on this car?”

  He shot me a quick glance and caught my half smile. “Funny.”

  I laughed lightly and then stopped.

  Where had that come from?

  I hadn’t heard myself laugh in . . . Well. Ten days. I winced. Longer than that. Definitely a while. I turned that over in my mind, thinking how that couldn’t have been fun for Zach. I stared at Grayson, marveling that he was the one to bring me out of my drought.

  “You’re home,” he announced.

  I snapped my gaze off him. Of course it had been a quick drive.

  My house sat back from the street in complete darkness, silently waiting for me.

  A strange hollow feeling spread through my center. Not only did most of my friends come home to lit porch lights, but they had parents waiting up for them. Willa’s mom kept tabs on her all the time . . . even though Wills never did anything wrong. She actually had a curfew.

  No curfew for me anymore. Not since Dad started dating. Not that Mom had ever been a stickler about that kind of thing anyway. She would cover for me and tell Dad I got in at eleven when he asked the following morning. Funny how my friends had thought I was so lucky . . . that I had the world’s best mom. Only she hadn’t done that for me. She’d simply liked me going out, being popular. It was like it validated her, too, in some way.

  Sometimes when I stayed over with Willa, her mother waited up for us. She’d ask about our night and make us popcorn. It was nice. My mom had never done that even when she had been around. She was always searching for something, moving through projects and hobbies so fast I could never keep track, but none of those had ever involved making popcorn for me and my friends.

  “Thanks for the ride.” Still I sat there, hesitating, my limbs like lead.

  My house looked so dark. There were outside perimeter lights—​sconces on the front of the house and lights buried in the landscaping—​but they were all set to a timer. They weren’t on because someone was inside and had turned them on in anticipation of my return.

  Could something radiate emptiness? I guess it was possible. People radiated loneliness. I mean . . . I hoped I didn’t, but people did.

  “No one home?” he asked, his deep voice jarring me out of my thoughts.

  “Just Rowdy.” I shrugged. “I’m used to it. My dad and his girlfriend go out a lot. Restaurants. The theater. Weekend trips.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t imagine my parents doing anything like that.”

  “My dad hardly ever went anywhere before Dana. Work, occasional trips to visit family. A Dynamos game downtown.” I cupped my hands around my knees, rubbing my palms into the bone. “Since he started dating Dana, he’s become quite the sophisticate. Last month they went to the Russian ballet.”

  “Not something you’d want to do?”

  I’d never even thought about that. I guess it was a moot point. They never invited me to their things.

  At my silence, he continued. “Enjoy the solitude. My house is always crowded. Noisy.” He started counting off on his fingers. “I’ve got my parents. My sisters. My two uncles are over so much they might as well live with us too. They work with my dad.”

  “What’s your dad do? Construction, right?”

  “Yeah. He manages a crew.” One of his hands slid down the steering wheel, his grip white-knuckle tight. “One uncle is divorced. The other never married. They’re over all the time, eating whatever my mom is cooking. Drinking beer and watching sports. They’re there now.” He faced forward like he could see them right then in his living room.

  Something in his voice, in the way his lips twisted, told me he hated that. The irony wasn’t lost on me. I was avoiding my empty house and he was avoiding his full one.

  “You don’t like your uncles?”

  He turned to face me again, his eyes gleaming darker than the night pulsing around us. “My dad and his brothers were high school jocks. They peaked at seventeen. Can you imagine?” He laughed, but the sound lacked all amusement. “They love to relive those memories. Every night they tell the same damn stories.”

  I winced. “That sucks.”

  “Yeah. So I
get to hear them over and over. It’s especially great when they call me a pussy because I don’t play sports like they did.”

  I flinched, imagining him as a young boy, surrounded by three faceless older men belittling him and calling him ugly names. Staring at him, I understood why he hadn’t been roped into football or soccer or any of the myriad sports offered at school.

  As though to confirm my conclusion, he continued, “Why would I want to? So I could be like them? They started straight out of high school. Before I started making money tutoring, they made me work summers and after school with them. It was backbreaking work. They have to drink and pop pills every night just to numb themselves to the misery of it. Yeah. No thanks. I’m not going to be them.”

  I opened and closed my mouth, unsure what to say to that. I had always just seen the smartest guy in school when I looked at him. I never imagined there was anything else to him besides brains and ambition. I never considered what drove that ambition.

  I never considered he might have to deal with his own share of crap.

  I released a breath and relaxed my grip on my knees. “I guess family is . . . complicated.” Well, that was not exactly profound. He must seriously be questioning my intelligence. Ha. He was my tutor. He already knew I wasn’t the brightest bulb. I gave myself a swift mental kick. I had my insecurities just like anyone, but I’d never thought I was dumb before. Maybe this was because I was newly dumped.

  “Yeah.”

  Silence fell, and I realized he was probably waiting for me to get out of the car. “Thanks again. For the ride.”

  “No problem.”

  My gaze was back on those hands with the slightly reddened knuckles. The longer I stared at them, the funnier I felt inside. My stomach quivered and fluttered. The air felt thin inside the car, stretched humming tight.

  What was I even doing here? I should have already left. I just had to grab the door handle and step out.