by Mary Frame
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs.
“It’s fine. They’ll be okay. They’re going to live in Florida with my grandma. They’ll be able to stay with her, help out, and scrape by on their retirement. I still worry about them though. I know they’re struggling with medical bills, even after insurance, and I really want to help them, but right now . . . I feel helpless. It’s why I’m majoring in engineering.”
“How does majoring in engineering help your parents?”
“It’s the field with the highest-paying jobs you can get with a four-year degree.”
“Do you like the classes?”
“They’re okay.”
“If money didn’t matter, what would you do?”
The question stops me. It’s not something I’ve ever considered. It’s not really about me, it’s about taking care of the people I care about the most. “I . . . I don’t know. I’ve never let myself think that way. I pick a course and stick to it.”
“So later, if they don’t need your help, would you do something else?”
“Sure. Life’s not always a straight line from A to B.” I’ve never talked to Abby about these things. I’ve never talked to anyone. For some reason, Reese is easier to talk to.
“You wouldn’t be a professional runner?”
I crack out a laugh. “Not exactly an option. I’m not talented enough. The only reason I’ve gotten as far as I have with running is because of sheer determination. I do distance running. I’ve never been a sprinter. I’m not in it for the quick win. I like the skill that comes from endurance. The challenge.”
“What made you want to run in the first place?”
I almost don’t tell her. I hate to keep bringing her up. But something tells me she would prefer the truth rather than avoiding the tough topics. “Abby.”
“Really?”
I was right, her voice rises. But there’s no hostility in it, even though I’ve brought up the main reason we’re in the predicament we’re in.
“She wanted to do it but not alone, so I went with her. But then after the first season I sort of fell in love with it.”
“That’s nice,” she says on a yawn.
“Thanks for not being weird.”
She laughs. “But Fitz, I am weird.”
“I mean, thanks for not being weird when I bring up Abby. I know she’s not the easiest person. To be around or to discuss.”
“Is it still hard for you to talk about her?”
“Oddly . . . no. I thought it would be worse, actually, but it’s not. I mean, she was a big part of my life.” She still is, in the sense that I’m still lying to my parents for her and we’re still . . . friends? Or could be again, someday. I’m still worried about her and her erratic behavior. “But I think she might have been right. She said something about us being friends first and not really meant to be as a couple. Maybe I always knew, and I wasn’t really hanging on to her, but to the idea of her.”
“The idea of an epic love story.”
“Yes. Exactly. But we’ve talked enough about me. Have you narrowed your choices down for your major?” I ask.
“Actually, yes, I have.”
I can hear the smile in her voice and it prompts me to lean over the side of the bed to look at her. “That’s great, Reese.”
She’s lying on her side, her head turned to grin up at me. “Jude took me to meet a friend of his today. A kid, actually. A really smart kid. I decided I want to open a school someday. For gifted and talented children in Blue Falls.”
“That would be amazing.”
“I think so.”
We smile at each other for a few seconds before I lie back down and stare up at the Christmas lights.
The conversation stalls, but it’s not an uncomfortable stretch of silence. It’s kind of nice, actually, being able to talk to someone about anything and everything without a fight or any kind of fear of recrimination.
She really is nothing like Abby.
“I’m glad we’re friends,” I say.
She doesn’t respond. But I think I hear a soft breath.
I lean over the side of the bed again.
Reese is curled up on her side, facing in my direction. Her dark lashes cast a shadow over her pale cheek, her hair a riot of sleek, dark waves spread above her.
She’s really quite beautiful. In all the ways that matter.
15
Life itself is worth living for. If you’re not living the life that you want, you fight for that life.
—Jensen Ackles
Reese
For the first time in, well, ever, I can’t wait for class to be over, and I head immediately to Jude’s once my last class concludes.
I tell myself it’s because it’s not a competition day and I’m looking forward to a quiet night for once, but it’s not entirely the truth.
The truth is, I can’t wait to see Fitz.
We’re actually—dare I say it?—friends.
“So, what’s up with you and Fitz?”
Speaking of friends, Annabel has become a common fixture at Jude’s as well.
We’re sitting on the back deck, enjoying the late-afternoon breeze while lounging on a couple of ragtag patio chairs.
It’s Fitz’s turn to cook and he’s grilling burgers and hot dogs. Luckily for me, he’s inside getting the cheese for the burgers and a drink for me, so he misses Annabel’s probing question.
I glance at the open sliding door before turning back to Annabel. “Nothing is up with us.”
“Y’all hated each other and yet now everyone’s all cozy, sleeping in the same room, acting like the best of friends.”
“Hardly the best of friends.”
“Boloney. He asked if you needed anything before going inside and completely ignored his own sister. I’m family. And I’m thirsty.”
“You’ve also sided with me during this whole thing and not Fitz.”
She waves a hand. “Eh. We’re not talking about Fitz and me, we’re talking about Fitz and you.”
Beast ducks through the patio door and hands Annabel a glass of ice water before moving off to a chair on the side of the deck.
“How do you know these things?” Annabel yells at him.
Jude comes out behind him, Mr. Bojangles curled up in one arm. “He’s not deaf, Bel.”
“Stop calling me Bel.”
“Would you rather I call you Anna?”
“Ugh no, I would prefer you call me by my actual name.”
“At least he doesn’t call you babies.” Fitz pops out behind Jude, serving plate in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He hands me the glass before heading over to the grill, setting the platter to the side and popping the lid open. “Why don’t you call her babies? You call everyone else that.”
Jude shrugs. “When’s dinner ready?”
Fitz and I share a raised-brow glance.
He totally avoided the question.
“Few minutes,” Fitz says.
“I’m famished.”
Dinner is eaten outside, balancing paper plates on our laps while Jude and Annabel bicker and Fitz and I share smiles and Beast . . . well, he eats and listens, I suppose.
The breeze tickles my nose and I shut my eyes to enjoy the sun. When I open them again, Fitz and I lock eyes and share a smile and something flutters in my stomach.
“You’re ridiculous,” Annabel says to Jude and then she flicks a piece of her salad at him and without missing a beat, he catches it in his mouth.
I laugh.
I’m going to miss this.
No matter which way you cut it, one of us is going to be gone next week.
“We have something special tonight, babies. Laser tag!”
The backyard has been transformed.
Planks of wood have been cobbled together into makeshift walls, and various inflatables and giant wine barrels are strewn about, along with old tires and the kiddie pool, which is now full of water.
We’re standing beside Jude on the porch
while he yells at the “babies” through his megaphone. Since the yard is being used, everyone’s assembled on the deck and in the living room, listening through the open sliding glass door. The crowd grows each time we have one of these. The bets have already been placed, and now Jude is going over the details for the challenge.
“Each of our players will get a gun and a vest. The vests are set up to flash and emit a loud, unique sound when you get shot by your opponent. Three shots and you are out. I have a scorecard here that’s wirelessly connected to your vests.” He holds up a square black object. It resembles a toy-car remote, except bigger. “So we’ll be able to keep track of each hit. Beast?”
Beast slides onto the porch, coming out of the darkness like a killer submarine emerging from the deep.
“Ladies first,” Jude says.
Beast holds the vest up so I can stick my arms in the holes and then he fastens me in.
“Don’t get too crazy out there, babies. I don’t want my biggest sources of income to get injured.”
The crowd laughs.
“Your concern is touching,” Fitz says drily.
Beast helps him into his vest and then hands each of us our guns.
“Fitz, Reese. Please step into the yard.”
We jump off the porch onto the grass.
“A demonstration, if you will! Fitz, go ahead and shoot Reese in the chest.”
He hesitates.
“It’s a laser gun, not a real gun. You aren’t gonna hurt her. Just do it.”
He pulls the trigger. My vest lights up orange and makes an obnoxious yodeling sound, much to the delight of the audience.
“Now you,” Jude tells me.
I don’t hesitate, shooting Fitz right in the heart. His vest lights up bright yellow and emits a jarringly loud rooster crowing, eliciting more laughter and claps from the assembled group.
Jude holds up his scoring machine to show the crowd what it looks like on his tablet. “I will reset this bad boy and give a big thanks to the engineering department for designing these wonderful toys. Now then, babies, let the games begin!”
As soon as he finishes his sentence, the entire backyard plunges into darkness.
I can’t see anything. It’s pitch-black. People are still on the porch, talking and laughing, so I move away, onto the course. I trip over something and then all of a sudden, colorful lights are flashing all around, reds and blues and yellows and greens—like I’ve been dropped into a disco ball.
At first, I think I’ve been hit. My stomach drops and I hide behind a barrel. But there’s no yodeling, so I suppose I’ve still got three shots in me. The lights cease and the yard pitches into blackness again.
Jude didn’t mention the addition of a sporadic light show. Should make things more interesting. Now that I somewhat have my bearings, I’ll have to use the light show to find Fitz and take him down.
But before I can do more than catch my breath, my vest lights up and a loud yodel fills the night air. People on the porch cheer and laugh.
I’ve been hit.
“Ouch, Reese,” Jude’s megaphone sounds from the porch. “That’s one hit for Fitz. Zero for Reese.”
The disco lights flash again and I glance around the yard, but I can’t see Fitz anywhere.
I didn’t hear him move.
He probably knows exactly where I am too, since he just shot me and I haven’t budged so I need to be getting a move on.
I circle one of the barrels, staying low and listening. The lights turn off and I’m about to make a run for a wall nearby when my vest lights up and once again the yodeling startles me into a laugh.
“Two hits now for Fitz Moreland! Only one more hit and you’re out, Tootsie Roll,” Jude’s voice echoes over the backyard.
Darn it all to Dante.
The lights flash again and I use the opportunity to make a run for better cover, glancing around as I do so, on the lookout for any movement. Trying to get myself out of the lights brings me to my favorite place to hide.
I get behind one of the bushes and settle with my back to the fence, considering strategy. The lights click off again, but not before I catch Fitz’s head over one of the partitions.
I take aim and shoot, gratified when the distinct sound of a rooster crowing sounds.
“One hit for Reese! Score is now two to one in favor of Mr. Moreland,” Jude’s megaphone echoes over the yard.
The crowd yells, some cheering, some booing and yelling, “Come on, Reese!”
The lights click on again but I don’t see any movement from this vantage point.
After a few seconds, the yard is once again plunged into darkness.
And that’s when I hear it—footsteps, right next to my hiding spot.
Before I can make a run for it, my gun is knocked loose and he’s right in front of me.
My weapon is on the ground somewhere, the fence to my back and Fitz’s gun pointed straight at my vest.
Nowhere to hide.
Fitz’s leans into me, despite the gun between us. “You lose.” His voice is low and gravelly.
Dangerous. If danger includes the sounds of yodeling and roosters.
“Not yet,” I say.
“You can’t win. You don’t even have a gun anymore.”
“You can only fail if you stop trying.” I repeat his words back at him from Begonia Day.
He chuckles. “Good.”
The lights go crazy again, but I barely notice. We’re in a darkened part of the yard so the flashing doesn’t quite reach us. The sounds of people out in the yard laughing and partying fade away. The heat of his gaze trails a line down my face, to my lips.
One of his hands, the one not holding the gun, cups the side of my face, his thumb rubbing over my cheek and then lower, tracing my bottom lip.
“Reese.” His voice is a low murmur in the dark and I’m leaning toward him like he’s reeling me in with a tractor beam.
My hand lifts to cover his, holding it there against my face as I lift up on my toes.
Yodel-ay-hee-whoooo!
I jerk back as my vest lights up and the yodeling shrieks between us.
Jude yells, “We have a winner!”
Fitz is already moving away from me. The porch lights flood on, filling the backyard with bright light.
My eyes meet Fitz and his brows lift and he’s staring at the gun in his hand like it’s suddenly morphed into a Whataburger. “I didn’t mean to . . .”
I don’t know if he finishes the sentence because people have infiltrated the space and are cheering and stepping in between us.
Jude’s there, handing the key to Fitz, lifting his arm in the air and declaring him the winner of the fifth challenge.
There’s the usual applause and groans from the winners and losers and I realize we only have two more to go. It’s three to two and Fitz is up by one. I have to win the next two or I’m sunk.
My stomach churns in agitation. Memories flash in my head, pulsing like the laser tag lights. Fitz’s warm hand on my face, his thumb on my lips. Restlessness makes me pull away from the crowd. A strange sense of anticipation fills me, like a sneeze that won’t materialize. I’m teetering on the brink of something.
If he hadn’t accidently shot me, would we have kissed? Would we have kissed in the barn the other night if we hadn’t been interrupted?
Clearly, there’s an attraction there, but I don’t know what to do with it. From what I’ve observed of others, most people don’t think twice about acting on lustful moods with random hookups and then moving on the next day, but I’m not sure it’s something I can do. Or something I want to do.
I catch sight of Annabel in the crowd and head toward her.
On my way through the throng, I pass Abby. She doesn’t see me, focused on a point to the side. I follow her gaze. Of course, she’s staring at Fitz. He doesn’t see her, talking to Jude and a few other people.
She’s not drunk this time, but she does look exhausted—not wearing her normal layer of makeup.
Her hair is pulled back instead of styled. Her jeans are cute, but her hoodie sweater dwarfs her narrow frame.
I look away in time to see Annabel disappear through the back-patio door and I follow.
Once I make it inside, I can’t find her in the living room. She’s not in the kitchen either.
But Duke is.
“Einstein!” He’s there, in my space, cup in hand. “Come have a drink. I bet you need one.”
“Maybe. I’ll be back in a sec.”
Where the heck did Annabel go? I check down the hall in the bathroom but she’s not in the line and there’s no way she would be in there already with the number of people waiting.
The door to our room is still locked, so, following a hunch, I head down the back of the house where Jude’s and Beast’s rooms are. I’m sure they are locked up like ours, but Annabel and Jude have something going on, despite what she says. Maybe he gave her a key?
As soon as I turn down the darkened, empty hallway, I know Jude never gave Annabel a key.
Because she’s crouched in front of his door and trying to break in.
“Annabel,” I scold.
She jumps and turns, a hand to her chest. “Holy baby Jesus, Reese! You scared me!”
“Good. What in cotton-pickin’ Judas are you doing?”
“Nothing.” She stands straighter, raising her chin at me.
“Why are you trying to break into Jude’s room?”
“I was looking for Mr. Bojangles.”
I roll my eyes. “You were not.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Don’t try and turn this around on me, I was following you.”
“Why were you following me?” She crosses her arms over her chest.
“Because I wanted to talk to you about . . .” I smack her on the arm. “Quit trying to change the subject! You are too good at this verbal swordplay.”
“I know.” She smirks. “And while you excel at almost everything, subterfuge is clearly not your strong point. So, what did you want to talk about?” She steps closer, all business. “How you and my brother almost made out in front of a crowd of onlookers?”
