by Sarah Sutton
I’d kissed Elijah. I’d been kissing Elijah. The nausea I’d been feeling before came back in full force, and threatened to come back all over his shirt. “I’m okay,” I said, trying my hardest to use my best Savannah voice. Deep, throaty, flippant. Instead it came shaky, nervous, shocked. “I’m…okay.”
Elijah didn’t buy it, but my screen went dark before I could see his face. “Here, let me see.”
Without thinking twice, I slapped my hands over his eyes, his eyelashes brushing my palms.
“Okay,” he said with a quizzical chuckle, fingers wrapping around my wrists. “Now I know you’re concussed. What are you doing?”
Oh, what was I doing? Kissing my best friend in a closet, apparently. No, more than kissing. We were making out. With tongue. Oh gosh, there was tongue…
Something strange and heady flipped over inside me, warming my blood to a searing degree. My body hummed as I stared at him, my hands over his eyes. I could barely make out his pink lips, slightly swollen from how fiercely I’d been kissing him, parted as he waited for my response. Savannah’s response. I felt hot and cold all over as I searched for an explanation.
But every time I tried to imagine an excuse, my mind latched onto the desire I’d had pull his mouth back to mine, to feel his hands exploring my skin again, in a way that felt both strange and thrilling.
No, it’s wrong, I told myself firmly, shaking my head a little to get rid of the thought. The movement elicited a sharp pain in the back of my skull. He’s like your brother. Definitely wrong.
And yet…
“Savannah?”
“Y-You can’t look at me,” I told him, my voice shaking with the effort to remain calm, but with the lights still off, my dizziness only worsened. I needed an aspirin. Or a strong drink. This situation was definitely starting to warrant it. “I—it—there’s blood.”
“Blood?” Definitely the wrong thing to say. One of his hands closed over my sequined shoulder, as if ready to pull me away. “How much blood? Sav, let me see.”
“I just need to go to the bathroom,” I said immediately, losing the grasp I had on my sliver of sanity. I didn’t even think I sounded like Savannah anymore. “I don’t want you to look.”
“But if you’re hurt—”
“Elijah.” I couldn’t breathe. “Promise you’ll keep your eyes closed.”
I felt his fingers on my shoulder twitch before he responded. “Okay, I promise.”
It took me a moment to trust him, to gather my courage and remove my hands from his eyes. Darkness still hung between us, and I stood still for a moment, waiting for his eyes to open. Which they didn’t. I could see that his lashes still rested on his pale cheekbones. And I didn’t waste any time before he changed his mind; I pried the closet door open just enough to fit through and ran out.
No one lingered in the hallway when I burst from the guest room, but the blaring music of the party still thumped, too loud for my throbbing ears. I made a beeline for the bathroom door, bypassing the person who stood in front of it, tugging on the handle. When it didn’t budge, I banged my fist against it. And again. I clamped my jaw shut, but I knew I couldn’t keep it that way for long. With my free hand, I clutched the back of my head, almost sure it’d crack open.
I had raised my fist to knock one more time when the door gave in, a figure filling the threshold. Horror and recognition swamped through me at the same time.
“Jeez,” Savannah grumbled, her eyes wide. She glanced at where I held my head. “What’s your problem, Remi?”
Looking at her made me feel even more panicked, as if she’d be able to read my mind by the look on my face. It also freaked me out, seeing how much we looked alike. It almost felt like I was looking at my doppelgänger.
Another wave of pain swiped across my eyes, and I cut in front of the two people in line, slamming the door shut in their faces. My vision began dotting with black spots, and I braced my hands on my knees, dragging in breath after breath of warm air. The throbbing in the back of my skull felt so intense that I was afraid of blacking out.
I’d been kissing Elijah. My breathing stuttered now for an entirely different reason, my heartbeat unable to find its normal beat. My lips still tingled from the pressure, and I could feel the way his chest had pressed against mine. Or the way he tenderly swept the hair from my face. I couldn’t shake it from my mind.
And why…why did I not want to? Why did I want to replay it over and over?
Man, how hard did I hit my head?
I stumbled toward the sink, intending to splash cold water on my face. Maybe that would calm my hot blood, orient my dizzy world. When I glanced in the mirror, swallowing the feeling of sticky saliva, I noticed that my pupils were two different sizes.
There was only a second of warning, but it was enough for me to turn and kneel in front of the toilet before I threw up.
Chapter Six
“I can’t believe you fell up the stairs,” Mom said for the hundredth time, tucking the blankets tighter around me. “Only you, sweetie. Only you.”
Don’t ask me how I managed to convince my mother that I fell going up Elijah’s staircase last night, resulting in my “mild concussion,” but I did it. Though I didn’t know exactly how much she bought, or if she just decided to not ask any questions.
“Don’t blame me, blame the stairs,” I said. “They were evil stairs. Possessed stairs. I barely escaped with my life.”
“That’s why we don’t have any, huh?” she teased, bending down and kissing my forehead. I cringed away from the contact, wondering if she’d left lipstick on my skin. Mom had already dressed for the day, even though today she’d be working from home Her blazer was even ironed. “Do you need anything else? More hot cocoa? A heating pad? Dr. Armada said that you need plenty of rest, so I’ll get you anything you need.”
Dr. Armada had entirely convinced Mom he was doctor royalty or something, hence why Mom cocooned me on the living room couch, tucked so tightly that I started to lose circulation in my arms. Anything he said, she ate it up.
“I’m okay. Can you turn on the TV for me?”
She pursed her lips. “Dr. Armada said no extended amounts of screen time.”
“Then can you grab me a magazine from my bedroom?”
“This website I looked at said you shouldn’t do anything that could cause strain. Reading strains your eyes.”
I closed my unstrained eyes. “So I’m just supposed to lie here and stare at the ceiling?”
“Well—”
“But not intensely,” I amended. “Wouldn’t want to strain my eyes.”
Mom ran a hand over my hair. “You should feel lucky. You got out of going to school today.”
Right, because school hadn’t been canceled today. A part of me felt relieved that I’d hit my head, since I hadn’t even started my papier-mâché project.
I closed my eyes, pushing the image out of my mind that threatened to surface. Elijah had texted me last night around nine-thirty—probably ten minutes after the incident—asking where I was. There were four messages. Hey, I’m at Jeremy’s. Where are you? Remi? Did you leave early? They were all sent within minutes of each other and I, a chicken, hadn’t responded to them. Ugh.
He probably knew the truth by now. As soon as he found Savannah at the party, she’d have revealed that it wasn’t her in the closet. When he asked about her head, the truth would come out. It was only a matter of time before he realized it was me. Double ugh.
“Are you okay?” Mom asked, pulling me from my thoughts. “Are you in pain? Why is your face pinched up?”
“I’m just dandy,” I told her, trying to draw in a steady breath. “Go. Get your work done, I’ll be here. If I need anything—like, you know, being freed from my restraints to go to the bathroom—I’ll call.”
She tried to kiss me again, this time on my hair. “I love you, Remi.”
Why did she have to be so mushy-gushy? “Okay, okay. I’m not dying, just concussed, and mildly at that. Now sho
o.”
Thankfully, she rose to her full height without trying to kiss me again. “I’ll break again around four. That should give you plenty of time for communing with the ceiling.” She headed out of the living room, flipping off the lights.
All things considered, Mom’s hovering wasn’t the worst thing. Her sweetness regarding this entire situation made me feel like a horrible daughter for lying to her. If she knew the truth about last night, she’d definitely be treating me differently. As much as the coddling irritated me, I’d take that over the passive-aggressive cold shoulder.
Even after taking the medication, I had a headache, a constant pain behind my eyes. Dr. Armada said it would fade with time, along with the weird haze that still hovered across my vision, but conveniently left out how much time.
In all honesty, I wanted nothing more than to text Elijah, but all the weirdness from last night still coated me, leaving everything feeling…well, weird. If he found out it was me, would he ever talk to me again? Here I was, obsessing over that kiss—how could we go back to our normal nonchalance if he knew?
I just had to apologize. That was all I had to do. Tell him I’d thought he was Jeremy. That was the fix-all, right? He’d thought I was Savannah. And really, it was his fault. Who played Lip Locker with their significant other? What was the point?
The house phone started to ring loudly in my ear, and I realized it sat on the side table behind my head. Wiggling an arm out of my cocoon, I pulled on the cordless handset. “Beaufort residence.”
“That sounded so professional,” said the voice on the other end, sounding amused. “Are you practicing to be a desk clerk, Remikins?”
Despite the craziness filling my head, I relaxed at the sound of his voice. “Hey, Dad. And I prefer ‘receptionist.’ Sounds much more professional.”
“I agree.” There was a pause as something shifted on the other line. “How are you feeling? Your mom called me last night, saying that you’d hit your head. Falling up the stairs?”
I balanced the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I pushed to a sitting position. Since this was Dad, I knew the details didn’t matter so much. “Yeah…well. More or less.”
“I’m thinking less, but maybe that’s just because I know you. Your middle name is Grace for a reason.”
A part of me felt tempted to tell Dad the truth, but I knew better. No doubt he’d immediately tell Mom and I’d be busted. So even though I wanted to spill the beans to somebody, I kept my mouth shut. “How’s Harmony?”
Dad laughed a little. “Oh, she’s good. Not as graceful as you, but we’re working on it. Clarabelle and I are thinking she’ll take her first steps soon.”
Dad had remarried almost three years ago to Clarabelle, a woman he had met at work. She was nice. Southern, if her name hadn’t hinted at it. She said things like “bless your little heart” and “I reckon,” which made her that much sweeter. They’d had a daughter last year, Harmony Blythe Beaufort, and she came out as probably the ugliest baby ever. With a rattail of hair and one eye larger than the other, she looked like a little alien. Now that her hair had grown out to a normal length, though, and her eyes matched in size, her cuteness was unrivaled.
“You better record it,” I told him sternly. “I want to see it happen.”
“I’m sure Clara will catch it. She’s always got her camera out.”
I gazed up at the ceiling, imagining Harmony’s pudgy little legs moving in tandem. She was growing up so fast. “Did you call just to check in, or…?”
“I just wanted to call quick from the office and tell your mother that I can take you next weekend, if that’s all right with her. You were supposed to come up for the weekend, but you should just take it easy.”
Right. I’d totally forgotten that I planned to go to his house. I alternated each weekend at Mom’s or Dad’s, since Dad lived nearly an hour away in Biscayne Park and I couldn’t go see him during the week. “Are you sure? Because I can come over and be an invalid on your couch, though the leather isn’t as comfy.”
He laughed on the other end, a sound that made my insides feel calm for the first time for the past day. From the whole art class debacle to Jeremy’s party, everything has been a whirlwind. “I’m sure. Besides, your mom is better at the whole coddling thing than I am.”
I tried not to let my sour expression show, though no one witnessed it. “You’re right about that.”
“Just rest up and feel better, okay, Remikins? We don’t need any more traumatic brain injuries at the Beaufort residence.”
I smiled at the ceiling, though it felt a little wobbly. “No kidding, Dad. I’ll see you next weekend. Love you.”
“Love you too, Rem.”
He ended the call first. I hunkered back down in my blankets, getting my head comfortable on the pillow.
I thought for a moment about Dad and Clarabelle, remembering the day he’d introduced me to her over dinner. It was a few years after he’d separated from Mom, and it threw me off guard that he was seeing someone new. I wasn’t mad, just surprised. I’d thought that falling out of love with someone meant there was never a possibility of falling in love with someone else.
It made me realize then that I knew almost nothing about love, and as I lay on the couch now, staring at the ceiling with strange thoughts running through my head, I figured that was probably still the case.
Five fingers nudged my shoulder, jarring me awake from the quasi-sleep I’d been in and out of for the past few hours. I blinked the grogginess from my eyes, trying to focus on the face looming over me. “I’m fine, Mom. You don’t have to wake me up every half-hour.”
Mom made a mocking face at me, looking comical. “I know, I know. I’m waking you to tell you that a boy named Jeremy is at the door.”
Despite having been asleep a few moments before—and dreaming about a pretty yummy taco, if I remembered correctly—I felt everything in my body snap to attention. I looked down the hallway toward the door, but the haze over my eyes made everything a little blurry. “Jeremy?”
“He’s asking for you. He’s got some homework from today.”
I kicked the blankets off my legs, tripping on the tangle of fabric. The sudden movement ratcheted my headache higher on the pain scale, and I winced. “Did it look like he had a lot of it?”
“He just had a few papers.” Mom helped me stand from the blanket burrito and wrapped it around my shoulders. “Why don’t you invite him in and you come back to the couch? You two can talk while you sit and rest.”
The idea of Jeremy in my house made something turn in my stomach, in a way that felt similar to a stomachache. A side effect of the concussion, surely. “He probably won’t stay long,” I said.
I rounded the corner into the hallway, finding Jeremy standing awkwardly in the doorway. He held papers in both hands and glanced around the walls. The front door was left open, the screen door the only buffer between him and the cold. He looked almost the same as he had on Thursday, wearing a pair of basketball shorts in the wintertime and a megawatt grin, especially when his eyes landed on me. “Hey, Remi.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked in dumb surprise, not even remotely channeling my inner flirt. Probably because I had no makeup on, my knotty hair draped over my shoulder, and I was still in my duckling pajama bottoms. Did I even wash my face today? Cringe.
“I’m bringing you some history homework,” he said, waving the papers in the air. “It’s just a take-home quiz, nothing huge.”
I took the papers from him, studying the first page before huddling deeper in my blanket burrito. “That was sweet of you.”
He did a scoff/chuckle combo. “Oh, no, Mr. Valdez actually asked me to drop them off. It’s kind of like an extra credit opportunity for me, actually. I should be thanking you.” Jeremy leaned a little closer to me, close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his eyes. “So, I don’t know whether or not to bring up the fact that you stood me up on Thursday. For that closet game? I sat in my bed
room closet for probably a half-hour.”
I felt my eyes widen. In the mess of everything that happened, I’d forgotten about meeting Jeremy for Lip Locker. I mean, yes, I was supposed to meet up with Jeremy, but after everything with Elijah, I never stopped to wonder what happened to him.
For a moment, I gaped at him, unable to think of a response. “I—Eloise thought you meant the guest bedroom closet.”
“Really? So you were waiting for me there the whole time too?” Jeremy let out a breath. “Well, that mends my broken ego. Though I’m probably lucky, huh? You would’ve given me your sick-person cooties.”
I let out a nervous laugh and found myself looking past him, past the open screen door, at movement across the street. Elijah was heading down his porch steps quickly, shoving his arms through his jacket and heading toward the truck. His pace was quick, obviously agitated. Normally, I would’ve called out to him, some harassing comment that would’ve made him smile or roll his eyes. But now the sight of him caused every muscle in my body to lock up, freezing me in place. It turned out, though, that I didn’t have to say a word.
Elijah’s gaze inexplicably lifted to mine a moment after he pulled his truck door open. A dark expression hovered on his face from whatever had just happened, but it softened as we looked at each other. My mouth suddenly ran dry, lips tingling as I remembered his breath against them. The same shiver ran down my spine now as it had the night before, and that shiver totally wasn’t from the outside air. Not one bit.
“What do you say, Remi?”
I looked back to Jeremy, startled by the mention of my name. It took me more than a moment to shake myself from the memory, to extract myself from the ghost sensation of Elijah’s fingertips. “Uh, a-about what, exactly?”
“To a movie. I can’t this weekend, but how about Monday? After school, of course.”
