by Jacie Lennon
I step forward, pulling her to me as she sniffs again. I wrap her in a hug, and we cling to one another.
Maybe my life is finally coming together. Maybe I’ll get exactly what I want for the first time ever.
32
Landry
I’m back in that state of mind. The one where I’m moping and sad and I don’t want to do anything.
God, I thought what we had was good, and maybe I was a little hasty in my decision, but seeing my phone sitting on the floor of his room made me snap. I didn’t want to forgive him. I wanted to be angry, so I was. And now, here we are, and it’s my fault. I should have stopped and listened and talked it out with him. But stupid pride got in the way.
“What are you doing?” Trixie asks, peeking her head around the bathroom door. “We don’t have much time.”
Her short hair is curled and sharply pulled back on one side. Reminds me of Margot Robbie a little, and I have an urge to watch Suicide Squad and then hit something with a bat.
I don’t feel like going to the dance, but I did get a dress, and last week, Peter did ask if I was still planning on going with him. Right after all the shit went down with Corbin. I told Peter yes out of anger, wanting to get back at a certain gorgeous liar, but now, I want to wallow. I’m past the anger phase of grieving and now deeply seated in the depression stage.
“I’ll get ready,” I say, still in my camisole-and-shorts pajama set I wore to bed last night. Sitting up, I grip my pillow to my stomach.
Trixie sighs and steps out from the bathroom, coming to sit beside me. “Babe, it will do you some good to get out and have fun. Don’t let a stupid boy steal your happiness.”
“He didn’t steal it. He just kinda threw it on the ground and stomped on it. But I guess it’s still there somewhere.”
Trixie pulls me in for a hug, and I inhale her perfume.
“You smell good,” I murmur against her shoulder as she holds me tightly. For some reason, the action brings tears to my eyes, and I blink rapidly.
“Let me do your makeup,” she exclaims, sitting back with a grin. “I’ve been watching so many tutorials lately, and I think I could bring out the blue in your eyes.”
“Yeah, okay.” I concede since that’s one less thing that I will have to do myself to get ready. “Got anything to drink?”
Trixie scrunches her nose as she thinks.
“Like, alcohol,” I clarify, and she snaps her fingers.
She walks to her closet and pulls a bottle of champagne from the dark recesses.
“You hide champagne in your closet?”
I watch her undo the foil on top and twist the tie off. She holds it by her crotch, and her thumbs push the cork out. It explodes with a pop, and she laughs with a hip thrust. It makes me giggle, and I’m happy for the slight reprieve from my depressing thoughts.
“Only for special occasions, and I think this calls for it.” She grabs two plastic cups from the top of her mini fridge and pours the champagne, handing me one. “To girlfriends and makeup—one to put your heart back together and the other, your face.” She touches her cup to mine with a shriek and then tilts it back as I do the same. “More?” She holds the bottle up, and I nod, handing my cup over.
“I guess I’ll jump in the shower and then let you do my makeup,” I say, standing and stretching.
She eyes me over her drink. “That’s probably a good idea.”
“What? Are you saying I stink?”
I pull my pillow off the bed and chuck it at her. She yelps and holds her drink out of the way, and the pillow hits her stomach.
“I would never say that,” she says, a smirk on her face. “But I do have to smell it.”
“Shut up,” I growl and grab some fresh panties and a T-shirt from my drawer. “Better get your makeup ready. I want to look like a goddess tonight.”
Trixie’s eyes light up as she nods, scrambling to grab her stuff off the counter and starting to rummage through it.
By the time I’m exiting the bathroom, towel-drying my hair, Trixie has set up an entire beauty booth at her desk, complete with a lighted mirror and hair accessories. I sit down, letting her swipe my hair back off my face, and I try not to move too much as she turns my face each direction, analyzing.
“Can I ask you something?”
“You just did,” she says, picking up a foundation color and checking it against my skin.
“How does your, um, fiancé feel about you having a date to the dance?”
Trixie pauses, her hand suspended in the air as her eyes darken.
“He’s not my fiancé,” she says.
I frown in confusion. “I thought you—”
“I did,” she says softly, brushing on the first stroke of foundation across my cheek. “We are technically engaged. But I don’t refer to him as my fiancé. In my head, this is a business arrangement.”
“You don’t love him?”
“I barely know him. And what I know about him, I don’t love,” she says.
I mull her words over. I can’t fathom getting married right now, but to be forced to marry someone I don’t love sounds even worse.
“Why don’t you break the engagement?” I ask softly.
Trixie looks up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly. I feel bad for bringing this up, ruining the lighter vibes we were rocking only moments before. But Trixie has been my best friend here even though I can tell she is hiding things, and I guess I want her to open up to me.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s a weird situation for us all. But no one knows, and I want to keep it that way.”
“I haven’t told a soul. But if you want out, I will help. I bet even Corbin and the twins would help.”
“No.” Her urgency causes me to back up in my seat a bit. “No. I don’t want their help. I can’t have their help.”
“Because of Bodhi?” I ask.
And she stops, looking me in the eyes. She doesn’t speak, but a nod confirms it.
“Yes. I don’t want him to know until the last possible moment.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want him to do anything rash.”
“So, you know he still cares about you?”
“Yes, and I still care for him.”
This is some star-crossed lovers, Romeo and Juliet shit. My heart breaks for Trixie.
“But we can’t be together, and that’s final.”
I nod, dropping it for now, but I have a feeling that, one day, this will all blow up in their faces, and I’m going to be there to help pick up the pieces, for both their sakes.
“When is Lawson getting here?” I change the topic, asking about her date, as I close my eyes for her to apply my eye shadow. The brush makes my eyes twitch each time it lands on my eyelids.
“Eight thirty,” she says, and my eyes shoot open. “Shit, close your eyes.”
“Sorry,” I say, cringing. “But doesn’t the dance start at eight?”
“No one arrives on time,” she says and then stops. “Haven’t you been to a school dance before?”
“No. I never went to the ones at my old high school.”
“Oh my gosh, this is so exciting! Your first dance,” she squeals again.
I can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. Then, I frown when I remember that the boy I wish were taking me isn’t.
“Here, you do your mascara. I don’t want to poke you in the eye.” She hands me a disposable mascara wand, and I look at her, confused. “I’m going through a phase. I have a whole kit of makeup stuff.”
“Lucky for me,” I say as I look at myself in the mirror. “You do amazing work.” I inspect my eye shadow up close, how she blended it to perfection and how it highlights my eyes with the smoky shading. “I told Peter to come at seven fifty.”
“Don’t worry; he won’t come that early,” she says, turning my face back to her once I’ve put my mascara on. “Okay, let’s do your hair, and then I’ll apply lipstick.”
For the next forty-five minutes, Trixie works on drying and curling my hair, giving me old-Hollywood glamour waves that fall gently down over my shoulders, and once I’m standing in my emerald-green dress, I can’t help but stare at myself in the mirror every five seconds.
“You are a fucking vision,” Trixie says, standing next to me in her blue cocktail-length dress, which shows off her toned legs. “Corbin’s going to lose his shit when he sees you.”
My heart clenches at the thought of having to face him.
What if he asked someone else to the dance in the last week? In my head, I know I’m being silly, but my heart still hurts.
“Yeah, maybe.”
A knock on the door disrupts us, and Trixie bounds over to open it. It’s her date, and I turn back to the mirror, smoothing my hands over my dress.
“Hey, do you want me to wait with you?” Trixie asks.
I glance at my phone, seeing that it’s already eight thirty-five and Peter still hasn’t shown up. I think about texting him, but I don’t want to seem too eager.
“No, I don’t want to keep you,” I say, turning around and grabbing my small clutch. I slip my phone and lip gloss inside. “I’ll walk out with you.”
We make it to the front steps, and I look around, noting the girls in dresses, clutching the arms of their dates. Laughter rings out across the air, but I purse my lips, frustration brewing.
I checked my messages earlier and read the two that Corbin sent, but I never replied. I refuse now for him to be right. I don’t want to concede defeat.
My mind makes excuses for Peter.
He got hung up, or maybe he spilled something on his tux and had to wash it.
I don’t know. But what I do know now is, he isn’t standing out here, waiting for me. And I feel so stupid, dressed up in this gown with nothing to show for it.
“Have you tried to text him?” Trixie asks, her date standing awkwardly by her side, looking like he’s trying not to listen to us. “Do you know anything, Lawson?” She turns to him, and I swear he wants to run.
I know he is in the crowd that hangs out with Peter. I don’t know why I didn’t think to ask him first.
“Um, yeah, no.” He looks up at me and then quickly glances away.
“What does that mean?” Trixie prods.
He shoves his hands in his pockets. “I …” he starts.
“Spit it out,” Trixie says between clenched teeth.
“I think he’s taking Barron’s sister. I can’t remember her name. She’s, like, two grades below us.”
He looks so uncomfortable, and I start to feel bad until I remember that he knew this and didn’t tell me. And we’ve been waiting for a while.
“God, I’m such an idiot. Corbin was right.”
“Corbin?” Trixie asks, wrinkling up her nose as if she tasted something nasty.
“Yeah. He tried to warn me, but I didn’t want to listen.”
I go to rub my eyes, but Trixie slaps my hand away.
“Don’t you dare. I worked hard on that.” She reaches for my hand and smooths her voice out, softly saying, “Go with us. We’ll have fun, I promise.”
I shake my head, feeling the tears well in my eyes. “I’m going to go up and get ready for bed.”
I hear laughter from around the corner, getting louder as someone approaches, and glance over, immediately wishing I hadn’t. Peter is standing there, a gorgeous girl on his arm, and he’s videoing me. His crew of people are laughing and not trying to hide it.
I snap.
Stalking forward, I launch both hands at his chest, pushing him back. Hard. The girl clutching his arm falls sideways, only managing to catch herself at the last moment to stay upright.
“How dare you!” I scream.
I realize he’s still holding his phone, and I seize it, throwing it against the asphalt below us. The screen shatters, and Peter screeches at me as he steps up, getting in my face.
“You’re going to pay for that,” he yells, his spit landing on my cheek, and he bends over to pick it up.
I know I’m being childish, but I’m so angry.
“Make me, asshole,” I yell back.
He raises a hand to push me back, but before he can make contact, we are pulled apart. Trixie’s hand grips my upper arm, and I look over, meeting Brock’s intense gaze as he firmly holds on to Peter.
“What the hell, man?” Peter grunts, shaking Brock off. “You agreed to this,” he says, grabbing the hand of his date and stalking off. “She’s a psycho bitch,” he says over his shoulder, eyeing me again.
I raise my middle finger, letting him know exactly what I think of him. I’m sure the video will be all over social media in a few hours if his phone still works.
“You good?” Brock asks, and I nod, catching my breath, unable to believe that he’s checking on me. “Can we talk for a second?”
I must be in shock because I follow him as he walks away from our little group. I wrap my arms around myself and stare at him, not feeling hospitable in the least.
“Talk,” I say.
He gives me a curt nod. “I want to apologize for all the shit I put you through. I had my reasons, but I should have outright asked you. Just know that I always take care of my family, and I felt like your mother and possibly you were here to fuck us over.” He shuffles one foot and glances off for a second. “Anyway, you aren’t who I thought you were, and I guess, in a weird way, you are part of my family now. So, I got your back. And I’m sorry.”
He clears his throat, and I tilt my head to the side. I can’t believe I got an apology from one of the kings, Brock Montgomery himself. I feel like I’m in the twilight zone, but I won’t pass up this opportunity.
“You did put me through some shit, and I don’t appreciate it. But I do appreciate you wanting to make it better. I’m not saying you are forgiven. Maybe, in the future, I can be on better terms with you, if only for Corbin,” I say, raising a finger and pointing at him.
He gives me a small nod in acknowledgment of my words, and I nod back.
“You’re a rounder, lil sis,” Bodhi says, walking up behind me, throwing an arm over my shoulders.
Trixie stops on the other side of me, her gaze bouncing between Brock and me.
“See you at the ball,” Bodhi says, letting go of me. He winks at both of us, his gaze lingering on Trixie’s for a moment longer before he and Brock walk off, looking like they don’t have a care in the world.
“Come on,” Trixie murmurs, clearing her throat as she pulls her eyes away from their retreating forms. “Let’s go fix your hair.”
We head back inside, Lawson trailing behind us, as I realize my night is shattered like the screen of Peter’s phone.
33
Corbin
I peek in the door, breathing a sigh of relief when I see Abe’s sleeping form. The last few days have been hard on him and also on me. I want him happy and to not go through what I did as a child. I make my way down the stairs, spotting Andrea standing at the counter, her hands wrapped around a mug with steam curling from the top.
“Thanks for taking him in. I’m glad the social worker agreed,” I say, coming to stand beside her.
She turns toward me, leaning a hip against the counter, and brings the mug to her mouth. After a long sip, she sighs. “These things are never easy, and he’s so young to be going through something like this. I’m glad I can be here to help.”
I nod, not knowing what else to say. I mirror Andrea’s image, leaning against the counter and crossing my arms. “Abe is my world. I would do anything to protect him.”
“You are a good brother. Most kids your age wouldn’t be thinking about things like that, so wrapped up in themselves.”
“I didn’t grow up like most of the kids around here,” I say and cringe a little when I watch her face fall. I didn’t mean for it to come out like I said it. I want to reiterate that I didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth. Sometimes, I didn’t know what I was going to eat that
day or whether my dad or Grandpa was in a bad mood and I shouldn’t come home. No one was there to protect me, but I’m here to protect Abe.
“He can stay here as long as you’d like, Corbin. And you are welcome as well.”
“I’ll be back in the morning before he gets up. I don’t want him to wake up in a strange place without me.”
“Of course. Here,” she says, turning and opening a drawer. She pulls out a key ring and takes two keys off, putting them on a new key ring and extending it toward me. “A key to the house and one for the car. Come in whenever.”
I grab it and give her a tight smile. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you, Corbin. For deciding to trust me. I want to make all the lost years up to you. I don’t think I’ve earned a place as your mom, but I want to.”
I shuffle one foot and clear my throat. “I would like that.”
She smiles and wraps her hands back around her mug. “Go on. Abe is in good hands here. I have your number if he needs anything.”
I head out the door, the keys clasped firmly in my hand, and climb in my borrowed car. I’m late, and my heart hammers in my chest. I wanted to be there when Landry realized what was happening. I wanted to be the knight who swooped in to save her. But family needed me, and I can’t help that.
I speed toward Almadale Prep. Thankfully, Andrea’s house is only twenty minutes away, and I hastily park as soon as I pull up to the girls’ dorm. There’s no one around, but I didn’t expect there to be. With the Fall Ball happening tonight, everyone is in the pool center.
I take the stairs up to the third floor, spotting a guy standing outside Landry’s room. I scowl at him as I stalk his way, and he blanches and stands straighter.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I’m, um, waiting,” he stammers.
I get closer, recognizing Lawson. “For what?”