by Erica Penrod
I set the blankets down on a chair and snatched the picture from his hand. “No thank you. They were okay when I was nine, but probably not at sixteen.” As I feigned chagrin, the truth rattled through my brain. I’d probably wear pigtails every day if they made him smile like that.
“Whoa, what is that?” Crue moved on to the kitchen, and I followed. He pointed up to the top of the refrigerator at the glass container.
“You mean the candy jar?” I wasn’t sure what he found so interesting. The jar had been there my whole life, and never once was it out of candy. The neighborhood kids knocked almost every day to come in for a quick visit and a trip to the candy jar.
“Your grandma is awesome.” He reached out and took the jar down. “I didn’t know people actually had these things.” Crue’s wide-eyed and toothy smile was like a shot of sugar to my bloodstream.
Bonnie came up and stood beside me.
“Mom, how come we don’t have one of these?” He took the lid off and handed the silver top to me as he stuck his hand in and started stirring through treats.
I suppressed the laugh bubbling up in my throat. Who knew a jar of candy could excite a TV reality star?
“Because you would never stay out of it.” Bonnie grinned and rolled her eyes. “Take a piece and put it back where you found it.” She sounded like she was talking to a seven-year-old and not a seventeen-year-old, but the way Crue had gone goofy about the jar, I understood why.
“Fine.” Crue huffed and picked out a sucker. Bonnie took the jar, and I replaced the lid. He wandered over to the recliner and plopped down with his phone in one hand and his lollipop in the other. Seconds later, the wrapper was gone, stuffed into his pocket, and the cherry-flavored candy was in his mouth.
I stole a glance at the adorable guy sitting in my grandma’s chair, savoring his sucker, but quickly turned back to his mom. I didn’t want her to see me salivating over her child.
“I guess he’ll always be my little boy in some ways.” Bonnie smiled over at Crue. “No matter his age or how tall he gets.” She put the jar back on top of the fridge. “Trying to keep that guy fed is a full-time job.”
I was glad we’d gotten a bite to eat in the hospital cafeteria, since I wasn’t sure what food was in the house, even though eating proved difficult since we were interrupted by more than one person wanting a selfie with the Zeplins. Back at school, I guess I forgot that Jovi and Cure are celebrities, because their after-school job didn’t seem to concern anyone in our school, which was part of the problem Jovi had when they’d first arrived. She was used to the attention, and no one at RLA cared that she had her own reality show.
“I’m not sure what Grandma’s got in here.” I pulled on the refrigerator handle and opened the door. There was a quart of milk, a package of eggs, and several protein shakes. Some cheese and lunch meat were inside one drawer, and some fresh vegetables were in the other.
“Tomorrow you’ll need to talk to your grandma and find out how long she’ll be in the hospital and if she’ll be transferred to a rehabilitation center.”
“A rehabilitation center?” I closed the door and stepped back. “What’s that?”
Bonnie leaned against the counter. “It’s a place for people like your grandma who don’t necessarily need to stay in the hospital but aren’t able to fully take care of themselves.”
“You think she’ll be going to one?” I assumed Grandma’s medical insurance would cover her surgery and hospital stay, but I had no idea about a rehabilitation center. If she could be taken care of for a little while longer, I’d have a little more time to think about what to do in the future. I couldn’t leave Grandma alone if she needed me, but the thought of not going to RLA dropped in my gut like a stone.
“I would think so, but we’ll find out. If that’s the case, we’ll take care of a few things around here so the house will be in good shape for when she gets back.” Bonnie seemed to know a lot more about this process than I did.
I rubbed my forehead as I drew in a breath. There were so many things to think about.
“Don’t worry.” Bonnie folded her arms. “We’ll figure this all out together.”
“Okay.” I nodded as I yawned. My mind and body were too tired to think about anything else tonight. “I think I’ll head to bed.”
“Me too.” Bonnie yawned. “I guess yawns really are contagious.” We walked out into the living room, where Crue was on his phone and crunching on what must’ve been left of his sucker. “We’re going to bed.”
He swallowed. “Okay.”
“I can help you get the couch bed out if you want.” I’d remembered the blankets but forgotten about getting the bed.
“It’s fine. We’ll get it.” Bonnie walked over and picked up one of the buffalo-check throw pillows. “Go ahead and go to bed.”
Crue looked over at me. His hair was rumpled, and his eyes were full of concern.
My knees got shaky. “Good night.” I threw the words out and spun around before I fell to the ground—or worse, gave him some cheesy grin—because I thought his drawn-out gaze meant more than it did. On a good day, after a good night’s sleep, I wasn’t strong enough to keep my imagination from running wild when Crue stared at me like that. So tonight, mentally and physically exhausted, I wasn’t even going to try.
“Good night,” I heard Bonnie and Crue call out in unison.
A tired smile eased across my face. I was so thankful to not be alone and for Bonnie knowing that I’d need her before I even imagined how much I really did need her.
My room was on the left of the hallway and directly across from the bathroom. Inside, I closed the door and rested my head against the solid surface. As happy as I was about Bonnie being here, I didn’t know how to feel about Crue sleeping on my couch. He seemed to belong here, even if his clothes cost more than the sofa where he rested his pretty head. I hated to think about how easily he could fit into the rest of my life, but I’d promised myself I’d move past him. His being here just seemed to blur the ink on the contract between me and my heart.
The familiar scent of laundry detergent and lavender filled my head, and I looked around the room I’d grown up in. The Harry Styles posters taped to the wall, the bulletin board covered in magazine cutouts and photographs, and the puffy purple flower-print comforter on my bed were familiar and soothing. The space was mine, but it also reminded me of my grandma and the life we had together.
I went to the dresser, unzipped my travel bag, and pulled out my belongings. After a quick change of clothes, I put the bag on the floor, pulled down the blanket and sheets, and climbed into bed. My eyelids were heavy, and I closed them, hoping my mind would settle and not focus on the fact that Crue Zeplin was sleeping in my living room.
Chapter Seven
I sat up with a start, disoriented and confused in the dark until I remembered I was back home at Grandma’s with Bonnie and Crue.
Crue. He was in the other room, sleeping on the sofa bed. My heart thumped in my chest, and my mind raced in circles like a dog chasing its tail, thinking about not thinking about Crue.
I looked over at the clock on the dresser. 2:00 in the morning. Ugh. I needed more sleep if I planned to handle everything tomorrow without crying every other ten minutes. Sleep was a good friend of mine, and without enough shut-eye, my emotions ran wild. Since I’d already been on the brink of going to crazy town yesterday with a solid eight hours of sleep, I couldn’t imagine what I might be like if I had to go on less than four hours of rest.
My belly rumbled as I yawned and lay back down. The salad I’d briefly touched at the hospital must’ve worn off hours ago. Grrrrrrr. I put my hand on my belly. The hungry tiger had been set loose and roamed around my stomach. I’d been here before—well, not exactly here, with a hot guy snoozing on the couch and his mom in my grandma’s room, but here, where the animal inside needed to eat no matter the time of night. I sighed, knowing I’d have to creep into the kitchen for a snack if I had any chance of going back to sle
ep.
The moonlight shone through the slits in my blinds, lighting up the room just enough so I could make out shapes. I didn’t need the light; I could find my way around this room blindfolded. I took my glasses off the nightstand and put them on. I touched my hair and found that my messy bun was just that—a mess, with rebellious strands running wild. Thank goodness it was the middle of the night and Crue wouldn’t catch an eyeful of the vision I was.
I opened my door, stepped into the hallway, and made my way to the kitchen, not allowing myself to steal a peek of the sleeping boy in my living room.
The proverbial hum of the appliances, the tick-tock of the clock on the wall, and the fragrance of the pumpkin spice plug-in Grandma used every fall wrapped around me like a warm blanket. I inhaled and let the memories flood my mind of all the late-night talks, the cookies we baked, and the holiday meals we shared, and I was filled with gratitude. A smile eased across my face, and I opened my eyes to find someone standing in front of me.
I screamed. My hand flew up and covered my mouth until I got control. “Crue,” I whispered, and I looked back over my shoulder to see if my shrieking had disturbed Bonnie.
“Don’t worry. Mom would sleep right through an apocalypse.” Crue’s scratchy voice matched the sleepy smile on his face. A nightlight gave off just enough glow for me to outline the shape of his face, the rigid cheekbones, and the square jawline. But his pupils mixed with the October night darkness of his irises, and they were hard to read. His hair spiked in various directions, free from the shackles of styling gel, reminding me of when he’d first arrived at RLA. I liked the wild locks, but a few days later, he’d worn it combed over. I wondered if Chloe had anything to do with the change or not. One more reason for her not to be my favorite person in the world.
“What are you doing up?” Panic surged within as I remembered my own mop top. I reached up and tried to casually smooth back a few hairs randomly sticking out as though I were the offspring of a mad scientist. Crue’s smile widened, and in the dimly lit room, I caught sight of his dimples deepening. My pulse quickened, and I dropped my hands.
“Here, let me.” Crue lifted his arm and touched the hair falling along my forehead. “I needed a midnight snack,” he said as though he wasn’t aware his touch had triggered a tsunami throughout my body. His fingers brushed the hair away from my face, his skin briefly skimming along mine.
My extremities tingled, and my breath caught in my throat. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it, I cautioned myself. My gut reaction was to touch him in return, so I fisted my hands and took a step back.
Crue flinched as though I’d slapped his hand away.
“I … I … I …” I stuttered, trying to form words with my mouth when all I wanted was to use my mouth for something else, to taste my own midnight snack. Hhhmm, hhhmm. I cleared my throat and swallowed the desire. “I can help you find something.”
Crue didn’t move.
Oh, great, he’s sleepwalking. An audacious thought shot through my mind like a rocket. I’d watched documentaries with Grandma about people fully functioning even though they were totally asleep. If he wasn’t awake, he might not remember what happened here in the witching hours of the night. If I kissed him … Another thought fired, crashing into the first notion. Dumb idea. Forget about anything other than feeding the guy. Think of him as a brother … Yuck.
“Want some milk?” I sidestepped and moved towards the fridge.
Crue still hadn’t moved. Maybe he really was asleep. “Yeah,” Crue shook his head slightly as if he were coming back to life.
Leaning into the fridge, I blinked, adjusting my sight to the soft glow of the refrigerator light. Crue’s face appeared over the door, lit up like a star on stage. He was no help at all. The hour was late, my mind was a jumbled mess, and my hormones were about to take the wheel; I was headed for a disaster if I didn’t put some space between me and him. I grabbed the carton and stood up. “Here we go.”
“Um, that’s a bottle of hot sauce.” Crue chuckled as he backed up and folded his arms over his chest. “I like things spicy.” He laughed again. “But not in the middle of the night.”
“Oh.” Heat smothered my face, and I quickly retreated to the coolness of the fridge. I put the sauce back and made sure to grab the milk this time. “The glasses are in the cupboard to the right of the sink.” I bumped the door closed with my hip and took a breath as Crue turned his back to me and walked over to the cupboard. The distance between us made breathing much easier. “And knowing Grandma, I’m sure she’s got a package of cookies in here.” Opening the cupboard next to the fridge, I found the cookies, along with granola bars and some cheese crackers, then listed them off to Crue. “What would you like?” I asked as I reached for the chocolate chip cookies.
“Cookies,” Crue called behind me. He came up beside me with two glasses in his hands. He put the cups down, and I poured the milk while he wrestled with the package.
“Here, let me.” I took the bag, tore along the dotted line, and presented the treats to him.
“How come that worked for you?” Crue furrowed his brow as he took two cookies.
“Finesse.” I grinned as I set the package on the counter and took one for myself. “It’s all in the fingertips.”
Rrrrrrrrrr, he growled as he dunked a cookie in the milk. “We should arm-wrestle, so I get my man card back.” Crue tossed the whole soggy thing in his mouth.
“No thanks.” I took a swig of milk. “I know my strengths, and arm-wrestling is not one of them.”
“You’re strong in more ways than one.” He picked up his glass but didn’t take his eyes off me as he took a gulp. All of a sudden, I was very aware of my mismatched pajama top and bottom and glanced down at the cookie in my hand. “You’re not like the other girls I’ve met at school.”
“No, I’m not.” I shook my head, although I wasn’t sure to what exactly he was referring. The fact that I’d grown up in a double-wide trailer and depended on a scholarship to keep me at RLA, or the fact that I didn’t hang out with the “in” crowd? Or that I was nothing like Chloe Davenport? “Is that a bad thing?”
One corner of his mouth curved up into a lopsided smile. “It’s a good thing.”
Okay, so now I was more confused than ever. Crue hadn’t asked me to homecoming, and rumor was it that he and Chloe were officially dating, but there he was, standing in the middle of my grandma’s kitchen with our bare feet inches apart, telling me I’m not like anyone else he knew. “Why are you with Chloe?” The question flew out of my mouth before I had chance to swat the words back. Embarrassment pushed me back a couple steps.
His brow arched, and I watched his chest rise and fall as he breathed deeply. “She’s fun, I guess.” Crue’s gaze darted to the floor.
Wow. I guess I didn’t know the guy as well as I thought I did. In what world was someone who stole your smile and robbed the sunshine from your eyes considered a fun person? “That’s what you call it?”
“I don’t want to talk about Chloe.” Crue turned a cookie over in his hand.
An unfamiliar spark ignited in my mind. He didn’t want to talk about Chloe. “Does she know you’re here with me?” Anger I’d never seen coming smoldered in my veins.
“She knows our family is helping you out.” His voice quieted.
“I guess I’m the Zeplin family sympathy project.”
“No.” He put the cookie on the counter and moved towards me. “That’s not what I was saying at all.”
“I guess you’d better spell it out for me, because clearly I don’t understand.” My hand trembled as I set the glass down. “Why are you here?”
“Because I’m your friend.”
I bobbed my head up and down as I chewed on my lip. The anger melted into something softer, something I couldn’t identify. Moisture collected in my eyes. “Friends.”
“Em, please don’t be upset.” Crue touched my cheek. “I wish I could explain why I’m with Chloe.” The muscle in his
jaw tensed. “But I can’t.” His thumb stroked my flesh, and I pushed his hand away. “I really care about you.”
“The way you care about me and the way I care about you must be two different things.” I swiped the tears from my cheeks, mortified that I’d revealed that much to him. “So do me a favor and please stop caring about me.”
I hurried out of the kitchen and down the hall, not waiting for a response. Crue had already said enough. He’d hijacked my emotions and gone for a roller-coaster ride.
In that moment, I considered something I never had before: I didn’t have to be Crue’s friend. Jovi was my best friend, and his parents had shown me nothing but kindness, but Crue, intentionally or not, had broken my heart repeatedly. I didn’t have to be an easy target. I cared about him, but I didn’t need his friendship to do that. Time might change how I felt, but until then, I was done letting him drag my heart around.
Inside my room, I closed the door and climbed into bed, where I let the tears fall and promised myself that this was the last time I would ever cry over Crue Zeplin.
Chapter Eight
I drove Grandma’s baby-blue Ford Escape home from the hospital the next day. A quick glance in the rearview mirror told me I didn’t look much better than my grandma had that morning. The shadowy circles under my eyes, like crescent moons, hadn’t dimmed with the rising of the afternoon sun.
Grandma told me she hadn’t rested well either, which I gathered on my own after one look at her pallid skin and dark circles of her own. I was glad Bonnie and I had decided to wait until tonight for introductions. I knew Grandma was glad to see me, but she couldn’t keep her eyelids open. The nurse had given her something for the pain and she’d finally been able to rest, so I’d sat in the chair for an hour and then told the nurse to tell her I’d be back later tonight.