by Celeste, B.
“Then you’re in denial, Little Bird.”
“Please stop calling me that.”
“Stop pretending like you still hate it.”
Silence.
He stands up and flattens his shirt, gripping the edge of the door. “Meet me in my trailer tomorrow. We’ll talk more. I’m not giving you a chance to say no either. We both need this.”
“Closure?”
The infamous smirk appears on his face, leaving me wishing I did have a rock to throw at him. “The company.”
I’m about to tell him that I can find better company than him, but he makes sure all my limbs are out of the way before closing the door. Staring at him through the glass, he shoots me a wink before turning around and walking away.
“What am I doing?” I whisper.
Chapter Twelve
Kinley / 16
Biting down onto my thumbnail, I watch as the little white numbers in the bottom righthand corner of my laptop change. Eyes drifting to my inbox, I begin tapping my foot on the floor waiting for a new email to come through. The clock could be fast on my computer.
Noon.
12:01
12:05
12:09
A pillow smacks me in the face, and my laptop nearly topples from where it’s perched on my legs. Glaring at Gavin standing by the chair in the corner of my room, I put my laptop safely on my nightstand.
“Do you mind?”
“Your moping is annoying,” he informs me, jabbing his thumb backwards. “Let’s go get pizza. I’ll even let you pay.”
I blink.
He grins. “Come on, dickwad. I’m just messing with you. Although, feel free to pay. My milk check this week wasn’t as much as I thought it’d be. You’ll just have to live without your crack for now.”
Rolling my eyes, I glance at the screen before sighing and closing my computer. “Fine, but you’re definitely paying. And you’re buying me Twizzlers because it’s your fault I’m addicted to them in the first place.”
He cackles and backs up. “Do you remember when I hit you with one during a road trip and you bruised?”
I throw the pillow back at him, but he catches it. “That hurt! Candy shouldn’t be used as weapons.”
“It was funny,” the idiot says.
I get up and grab a hoodie before we walk downstairs. When Gavin grabs his truck keys, I slap them out of his hand. He complains when I inform him we’re walking, since the gas station is right down the street.
We walk side by side, his broad frame taking up too much of the sidewalk and forcing me to walk partially on the grass along the road. He’s taller and leaner than Dad and likes to show off the biceps he’s gotten from doing so much physical labor on the farm.
His shoulder bumps mine. “What were you obsessing over?”
Heat creeps into my cheeks. “Just a writing contest. It’s stupid. They said the winners would be contacted at noon our time. I thought…”
I try not getting my hopes up when I enter contests. Since winning the first one, I’ve come in third and fourth place in two others. People tell me how much they love my writing samples and stories online. Some even say they can picture me getting published if I expand them into full length novels.
This contest is different though. I’ve been more confident in the story I wrote for it than any other sample I’ve submitted. Maybe it’s because I based it on a silver-eyed boy and his best friend. Subconsciously, I know that it’s stupid to write about something so close to me. The story flowed though—the love between a young Ryker and Beck growing which each story about them I write. It gives me hope. Hope for what, I’m not sure. But the feeling in my stomach when I’m around Corbin inspires me to write a story like ours.
But I jinxed myself by getting cocky after I landed in the final three for the judges to consider. The prize is another publication in a well-known magazine as well as a chance to speak to a literary agent about the process of being represented.
“Anyway, I didn’t win.”
Normally he’d make a sarcastic comment that would make me want to push him in front of a car, but instead he nods. “There are other contests, Kin. I know it sucks, but you’ll win another one.”
I told the entire family about the first competition I won over dinner one night. The conversation had lulled after talking about Gavin getting another calf from an auction he and our uncle went to, so I thought it was a good segue into letting them in on my good news.
Dad said, “Congratulations.”
Mom said, “That’s cool.”
Gavin smiled at me from across the table.
The pride I’d felt for getting the story put into a magazine had dwindled by their lack of excitement. I try not to think about it, especially when Corbin tells me that my feelings are all that matter, but I care about what my family thinks. It’s a fatal flaw.
I should have known that Gavin smiling was more than just an obligatory response. He doesn’t tell me he’s proud with words. It’s in the way he smiles.
“You’re right,” I finally reply.
The gas station comes into view.
Gavin says, “Surprised you’re not with your little boyfriend. You two spend a lot of time together.”
Side-eyeing him, I notice his lips are pressed in a firm line. “Is that your way of trying to confirm we’re dating?”
He eyes me skeptically. “Are you?”
I smile. “Corbin is my best friend. He isn’t like anyone else at school. He has dreams that are a lot like mine.”
“To write?”
“Act.”
Gavin grunts. “Is he in drama club?”
Gavin and his friends used to make fun of drama club and the productions we’d sometimes be forced to watch during the school day. I get that the school wants to boost curiosity and get us to beg our families to come buy tickets and see the whole thing, but it never worked on my family. Mom and Dad both have busy jobs that make it difficult to do things after they get home.
“He’ll be in the winter play,” I confirm, not going into detail about what his role is. Thankfully the school isn’t doing Grease again, but Newsies which is one of my favorites.
Gavin doesn’t say anything, probably holding back the remark that’s resting at the tip of his tongue.
“He got an acting coach,” I blurt. When Corbin showed up at my house last week, I’d had a facemask on while sporting my ugliest pajamas ever. The shirt had a couple holes in it, the pants were baggy and unflattering, and the mask made my entire face green and hard to move.
After he finished laughing at me, he informed me that the classes he’d been going to for the past month got him noticed by one of the newer coaches. The guy was interested in meeting up with Corbin to talk about what he wanted to do with his life, so him and his mom spent an entire afternoon going over the details about what to expect if they had an agreement.
“What does that mean?” Gavin finally asks, holding his arm out in front of me as a car speeds by us at the intersection.
Pushing his arm down, I shrug. “It just means that he’s finally doing something about becoming an actor. You know, learning the trade and stuff.”
“Is he going to leave?”
My eye twitches. “Lincoln doesn’t exactly have opportunities for actors, Gav. He’ll leave eventually.”
He doesn’t say anything with words, but his solemn head bob makes my frown deepen. Why is he being so weird about it? Corbin won’t live out his dream if he stays here.
I elbow his arm. “What?”
He shakes his head and opens the glass door for me that’s littered with tobacco ads and two-for-one specials on soda. When I step through, I wait for him to say something. He doesn’t meet my eyes as he walks over to the counter and orders our usual pepperoni pizza.
Guiding me over to where the big bottles of soda rest on the shelf, he grabs a Dr. Pepper and then gestures toward the candy section with his chin. “Nothing, Kin. Just grab your candy so you can’t say I
don’t love you.”
After he pays for everything, we sit at a table in back and wait for the pizza. “What are you thinking?”
He sighs and stretches his long legs out, ripping apart one of the napkins from the dispenser. “If you’re just friends, it won’t matter, but you’ve never had a guy friend before. You talk about him all the time. Corbin this and Corbin that. If he’s going to leave…” His shoulders lift, then he looks up at me through thick lashes that he got from Mom. “Don’t look at me like that. I just don’t want to see you get hurt. By anyone other than me.”
“I’m not staying here forever either,” I point out, unsure of what else to say. He’s insisting that more is going on with Corbin than there is. It’ll be Christmas soon, which means the annoying cocky boy I was tasked to show around has been here for almost four months. It’s true that we’re always together, but nothing has ever happened that would warrant his suspicion about us being more than friends.
“But you’re also not going to follow him around if he ever makes it,” he counters, sitting forward and dragging his feet under his chair. “I just want you to see that your friendship with him may be great now, but it’s not forever.”
Now I roll my eyes at the thought of him trying to be all brotherly and protective. “I love you, Gavin, but there’s nothing to warn me about. Corbin and I are just friends. I won’t get hurt. One day, we’ll both make lives for ourselves outside of Lincoln.”
“And you’ll be fine with that?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
His silence is deafening.
The conversation dies into nothing but the sound of the woman making our pizza and the door opening with customers coming in to pay for gas and grab snacks.
I watch the stoplight flicker from yellow to red, and the cars turning despite the sign hanging on the line that tells them no turning right. Nothing ever stops anyone around here, and that gives me hope that everything will be okay.
Corbin will become a famous actor.
I’ll become a famous writer.
We’ll be happy.
On Christmas Eve, the giddiness of the following day takes hold of the town. The glittery decorations hanging from the streetlights make the walk from the Tryon more festive along with the carolers singing in the square. Everyone is always happier this time of year, playing nice with their neighbors and smiling more. I never understood, but I like it.
I’m halfway down Main Street bundled in three different layers when headlights get nearer from behind me. The crunching snow under slowing tires has me turning to see a white Jeep pulling over to the shoulder of the road.
“Seriously?” Corbin says.
“Hey.”
He rolls his eyes. “Get in.”
Too cold to argue, I quickly make my way around the front of the Jeep and climb into the passenger seat. The cab is toasty warm, so I put my hands in front of the vents and sigh in relief.
His scolding comes as expected. “I told you to call me when you clocked out.”
I lean back in the seat. “You told me you were helping your mother run some last-minute errands when we texted on my break. I figured you were busy.”
He hesitates before sighing, still not putting the car in drive. “Dad came home early and helped her instead. I was waiting for you to call me.”
Corbin’s relationship with his father still confuses me, but it’s not a topic he likes talking about. Mr. Callum seems nice enough, but Corbin has mentioned that he has anger issues caused by an accident he was in a few years ago that makes him hard to be near for long periods of time. Never knowing what to say, I just let him change the subject when it comes up.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, resting my hands on my lap.
He shrugs and reaches for something in the back seat. When he produces a green and red wrapped present with a huge silver bow on it, a huge smile spreads on my face.
“Dad won’t let me come see you tomorrow. Said I’d be bugging your family.” He sets the gift on my lap. “But I wanted you to have your gift. Even wrapped it myself.”
He says the last part so proudly, I can’t help but laugh and poke at the bow. “The color matches your eyes.”
“That’s what Mom said.”
I bite my lip. “Can I open it now?”
He taps the steering wheel. “Yeah, as long as your parents won’t think you got kidnapped and call the cops.”
I scoff and tear at the wrapping. “They know where to look first. I mean, if I’m not with you then there’s definitely another strange man lurking outside of dark restaurants waiting for me. Sounds familiar…”
He flicks my arm. “Still not funny.”
I stick my tongue out. “It is.”
Once I finally get the wrapping off, keeping the bow intact so I can keep it, I stare down at the padded burgundy notebook in front of me. In golden script lettering, it says most of all, let love guide your life.
Running my fingers over the magnetic latch that keeps it closed, I flick it open and study the pretty cream pages with inspirational quotes on the top of each one.
“Corbin,” I whisper.
“It’s silly, but I figured you could use something new to write in,” he tells me quickly.
Instead of answering, I lean forward and give his cheek a quick peck. When I settle back in my seat, I hug the notebook to my chest. “This is perfect. Thank you.”
His lips part but nothing escapes them.
I reach into my pocket and pull out a piece of paper. My cheeks warm as I pass it to him, partially wishing I tried harder at finding something for him for the holiday.
He slowly takes it and glances down at the advertisement listed. “I found this when I was reading the paper. I know, I know. The paper is really lame, but if I hadn’t been reading it, I wouldn’t have seen the ad. You’d be perfect for what they’re looking for.”
The capital region tends to film a lot of commercials and made for TV movies. Although not many are well-known, locals are cast to involve the community. Corbin already spends a lot of time in the area because he takes acting classes there.
“It’s a movie casting call,” he says slowly, meeting my eyes after scanning the ad again. “Is this real?”
“Yes.” I grin. “And you have an audition, so you better be on your A game because they’re expecting the best.”
He blinks.
I wait for a reply. “You okay?”
He shifts his body toward me. “How…?”
“I called your coach and told him about the ad. He already heard about it, of course, but he agrees that you’d do well. It’s not the lead or anything, but it’s a small role. Better than an extra, from what your coach said. And—”
“You really did that for me?”
I nod. “You want to act, and I want to support you. It’s kind of perfect. You got me a gift that will help me keep writing, and I got you one that could lead to more acting. We’re the perfect team.”
He lowers the paper and stares at me until I’m squirming. Why is he looking at me so weirdly? The version of me that likes to overthink starts doing just that, until I’m regretting not getting him a funny t-shirt with his cat’s face on it instead.
“Listen—”
“I love this,” he states.
My regret vanishes. “Really?”
He lets go of the paper and leans over to give me a tight hug. I snuggle into him even though the console between us makes it hard and wrap my arms around his midsection. He rests his chin on the top of my head and we stay like that for a while without talking. We’ve been finding ways to touch more often—hug, lean against each other, any form of contact. I never think twice about it because it feels natural.
I feel his heartbeat against my chest and gnaw on the inside of my cheek at how it’s racing. He moves back slightly, his warm breath caressing my parted lips. The tips of our noses brush, causing a little rack of shivers down my spine. I hear the faintest shift in his breathing and close my eyes as
his face draws nearer.
The ghost touch of his hesitant lips over mine has my entire body heating. It lasts less than two seconds, but the impact is made. My lips tingle and my heart races and my skin pebbles. Swallowing and pulling back, I smile at him and pick up the notebook again.
He buckles and puts the car into drive before signaling to turn back onto the street. Wetting his lips, he says, “We’re more than a perfect team, Little Bird.”
Staring down at the notebook, I find myself taking a quiet breath. Neither of us speaks except to say goodnight.
Chapter Thirteen
Corbin / Present
The chair setup for me is right next to Kinley. I can feel her body heat as we watch the scene between Olivia and Aaron, who plays her fiancé, play out in front of us. From the corner of my eye, I notice the slightest part of Kinley’s lips as she stares unblinkingly at Olivia and Aaron embracing in the middle of the room.
Her hands twitch on her lap as she watches Olivia wrap her arms around Aaron’s neck. His hands rest on her waist, his forehead on hers, as he brushes her nose in a peck of his lips.
“What are we doing, Beck?”
Olivia tightens her hold on him. “Going back to what it was like before.”
His response is delayed as he watches her, her eyes closed and her body melting into his in needed comfort. Then, his arms hook around her waist and hugs her to him. He sighs and rests his cheek on the top of her head, clear indecision featured on his pinched expression.
“Go back to what exactly?”
“When we were happy,” she answers. It’s so quiet that I almost miss it, but Kinley mouths the words so clearly that I can’t help but study her instead of the couple in front of us.
I lean back in my chair and study Kinley’s slumped posture, the same way she always sits when she can’t stop watching something—a movie, a play, a scene. It makes me smile to myself knowing I can still see the old version of her inside the woman she’s become.
When she turns my way and sees me staring, her cheeks blossom a light shade of pink. I just wink at her and turn back to Olivia and Aaron, pretending like I wasn’t caught.
