by Carian Cole
I wait in the parking lot, smoking and leaning against the hood of her car. I don’t want Rebecca to think something’s going on between me and Skylar, but I really want more of those gooey chocolate chip cookies.
Me: Any chance you can snag me some of those cookies? ;-)
Skylar: LOL. Sure! I’ll be out in five.
She comes out right on time, still looking a little pale, but more energized than the last time I saw her. Today she’s wearing her fringe moccasins, jeans fashionably ripped from mid-thigh to her knee, and a fuzzy black sweater with little feathers that looks like a crow exploded on it.
This chick has the weirdest, coolest clothes I’ve ever seen.
She approaches me with a big smile and hands me her keys along with a little blue bag of cookies.
“I feel like you only want to see me for my car and cookies,” she teases when we climb in.
“Maybe it’s to see what bizarre outfit you’re wearing.”
“What? You don’t like my clothes?” she challenges with a confident, sassy smirk.
I start the engine and let it idle for a few seconds. “Actually, I dig your clothes.”
When we get out of town, I offer her one of the cookies before I start chowing down on them.
Her nose crinkles. “No, thanks.”
“Have you ever tried one?”
“Cookies are on my no list.”
“Good. More for me.” I flash her a grin and bite into one. “Have you seen the doctor yet?”
She shakes her head. “No. I’m figuring it out.”
I’m not ready to have this conversation until we’re parked someplace quiet, so I divert back to food.
“Are you hungry? I’ll take you to get something to eat.”
“Jude.” She turns to glare at me, pushing her long hair behind her ear. “Please don’t try to feed me. I’m not a pigeon in the park.”
“I know, I just—”
“Just don’t. I don’t want to be analyzed or pitied by you. Just be my friend, okay?”
I swallow my cookie. “Friend’s don’t let friends starve.”
“I’m not starving.”
“You fainted on the sidewalk.”
“I was tired, and it was hot as hell. That had nothing to do with my other problems. I’ve fainted at least once a year since I was little.”
She says it like it’s totally normal, which is disturbing, but I let it go. My plan today was to help her, not annoy her so much that she wants to jump out of the car to get away from me.
She tells me funny stories about weird customers as we drive. I didn’t have a plan on where to go, but we end up back at the playground where we jumped off the swings.
“Don’t tell me you want to try to beat me at the swing jump,” she says as she pushes her rusty car door open. “You’ll lose again.”
“Nope, I just want to talk to you.”
She side-eyes me on the walk over to a picnic table farthest away from the other five adults and their kids running around.
“Why do I feel nervous that you keep saying talk like it’s something serious?”
“’Cuz it is serious.”
We sit on the bench next to each other and watch a little girl dump a pail of sand over her head and then giggle wildly. Skylar turns to me, her forehead creased. Her tongue darts across her lips nervously.
“So, what’s up, Lucky? You’re not dying, are you?”
“Fuck no.”
My palms are clammy. I’m losing my cool fast, realizing this idea of mine is in fact, a supremely fucked-up idea. She might freak out, call me dirty names, and run for her car. She might think I have some twisted ulterior motive for trying to help her.
“Jude?” she urges.
“I’ve been thinking about your situation,” I say, rubbing my hands together. “And I think I can help you.”
A frown curves her mouth. “Which situation? My house? My illness?”
“All of it.”
She leans her elbow on the table, chin resting on her hand, her blue eyes squinting slightly with intrigue and apprehension.
I still can’t believe the words that come out of my mouth next. Words I never thought I’d say, especially like this. “I was thinking we could get married.”
I’m sure she’s not breathing. She’s gone totally stone still and silent, staring at me for what feels like forever. Finally, she blinks and snaps out of it. “We could do what?” She almost shrieks the word what. Two of the women by the sandbox glance over at us.
I clear my throat and avoid eye contact with the onlookers. “Get married. Just on paper,” I add quickly, as if it could lessen the shock. “I can put you on my insurance so you could go to the doctor and get your meds. You could live in my house if you want. I have an extra, empty room. You’d have your own bathroom. No strings. Strictly roommates until you get on your feet.”
“You want to marry me?” she says, utterly stupefied.
“No,” I say. “I mean yeah, but only to help you. It won’t be a real marriage. Once you graduate and can work full time and get your own insurance, we’ll get a divorce. No big deal. But it’ll fix this shitty mess you’re in until then. You’ll have a safe, clean place to live, and you can get the medical help you need.”
She looks like she’s gone into shock. Her complexion has visibly paled even more. She stares past me at the kids playing behind us. She’s gotta be petrified sitting here next to a guy who, in her eyes, must be coming across as a creeper. And I’ve gotta be a straight-up lunatic for suggesting marriage to an eighteen-year-old girl.
Who’s still in high school.
Way to go, Lucky. You’ve officially lost your mind.
Suddenly, I wish I could spontaneously combust into a cloud of smoke and disappear.
“What’s in it for you?” Her voice wavers.
My brain goes blank. What is in it for me?
“Um…” I push my hand through my hair and pull my cigarettes out of my pocket. I’m not sure how to answer that, because while technically there’s nothing in it for me on the surface, there is on a deeper, personal level.
Redemption. The chance to help someone when I couldn’t, or didn’t, so long ago when it was right under my nose. To hopefully not let another young woman get dragged down to a bad place when she has so much potential.
I snap open my zippo, light my Marlboro, then take a long drag.
“Just want to do something nice.” I exhale smoke away from her. “That’s all.”
“But why? Why me?”
Shrugging, I say, “Why not? I think you deserve a break. You’re a good person.”
She brings her legs up and tucks her feet under her, still staring at me.
“What about Fluffle-Up-A-Gus?”
I choke on smoke and go into a sputtering fit. “What the fuck is fupagus?”
“My cat, Jude,” she says, as if I should know. “Fluffle-Up-A-Gus.”
“Bring it. The more the merrier.”
“What about your dog? Is she cat friendly?”
“I guess we’ll find out.”
Her eyebrow quirks up. “Do you live alone?”
“Yes.”
“In this town? I’d stay in my school?”
“Yes.”
A few quiet moments pass, and I assume she’s thinking of more questions. Her complexion is slowly coming back. A hesitant, shy smile eventually spreads across her face. “W-Would I change my last name?”
I hadn’t even thought of that.
“Only if you want to. That’s totally up to you.”
She exhales a long, slow breath, and closes her eyes for a few moments before opening them. “This is just… whoa. My mind is kinda blown right now, Jude. Here I was thinking my biggest decision this year would be what to wear to the prom. Not this.”
“I wasn’t exactly planning this, either. But after I saw the way you’re living, and knowing you can’t see a doctor, and finding you laying on the sidewalk, it all just rattled me. I don’t
know why, but it did, and I want to do something.”
I don’t know how to explain something to her that I can’t understand myself. All I know is that I woke up after that night at her house feeling like I have to do this for her. Like it’s some kind of mission that’s been assigned to me.
“You’re serious about this? For real?” she says.
“Totally serious. I want to help you. Nothing more, I promise. I just need you to sign a prenup saying you’re not entitled to half my stuff when we split. That’s all I want in return.”
“I’m fine with that. I don’t want your stuff.”
My heart is pounding and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m worried about what I’m getting into, or something else.
“Do I get a ring?” she asks in a playful, almost hopeful tone.
“Diamond rings are for real proposals. But I guess we’ll exchange wedding bands, just to make it official. We don’t have to wear them, though.”
“Okay.”
“So… is that a yes?”
Her head tilts to the side. “Maybe… I think, yes.”
“You think?” I repeat, laughing. “Shit, I’m glad this wasn’t a real proposal. I’d be sitting here crushed right now.”
She gives my shoulder a playful shove. “You would not. I want to think about it for a day or two, okay?”
“Hell, yeah. You should think about it for as long as you want.”
“You should think about it, too.”
“I’ve been thinking about it since the night I was at your house. No one should have to live like that. I’ve got a house. I’ve got health insurance. I don’t have a wife or kids. There’s no reason why I can’t help you out.”
“Won’t it cost you money, though?”
“A little. It’s not a big deal. Don’t even worry about it.”
“Won’t it be weird that I’ll be in high school and legally married?”
“Yeah… but you don’t have to tell anyone. I’m sure as shit not going to advertise it. It’s just an arrangement, nothing more. I wouldn’t marry you for real.”
Her head slowly drops, and her long hair falls over her face as she looks down at the ground. For several long moments she stays that way, her face hidden from me.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods, and sniffles. “Yeah.”
Her raspy whisper nearly strangles my heart.
Gently, I push her hair from her face.
I wasn’t expecting to see tears. I resist the urge to wipe them away.
“Hey, what’s wrong? I thought this would make you happy.”
She brushes her face with her fingertips and smiles weakly. “It has. So much. I’m… overwhelmed.” She looks up at me, her big blue eyes idling on mine. “No one’s ever done anything so nice for me. Not ever.”
Before I can say a word, she throws her arms around my shoulders, and her warm, damp cheek is pressing into my neck.
“Thank you,” she says softly. “You’re amazing.”
“I’m not amazing, Sparkles. Just trying to be a good guy.”
She hugs me tighter. “You are. You’re the best ever.”
I wasn’t expecting tears and hugs.
I also wasn’t expecting to put my arms around her and hug her back.
Chapter 11
Skylar
I’ve been in a haze since I saw Jude yesterday.
Marriage.
An arranged marriage.
To an older man I barely know, while I’m a senior in high school.
I’ve seen movies about this—marriages of convenience.
On-paper-only marriages.
In the movies, it usually turns out all cheesy romantic, with the couple falling in love and living happily ever after. That’s not going to happen to us, though. My eyes are firmly on the prize—my dream RV and exploring the world with Gus.
I wish I could tell Megan about this and get some advice, but the fear of her telling me it’s the stupidest thing she’s ever heard is stopping me. Or she might tell Erik, and he might tell someone else, and soon the entire school would know.
As always, I’m on my own, except now I’m trying to make one of the biggest decisions of my life.
I sit on the floor with Gus, who listens intently with her bright-green eyes fixed on me.
“It could be a disaster,” I say. “We’d be living in a house with a man we hardly know. He could be a psycho. He might lock us up in the basement and force me to have babies. Or he could starve us to death, and no one would ever even know we were dead. He’d just tell everyone we stole some of his money and ran away.”
The cat’s whiskers bend forward, and she paws at my arm, wanting to be petted.
“Or maybe he really is just a nice guy. We could live in a clean house and learn to eat good food. We could actually use the front door. And have a real bathroom. I could save money for our RV, and a year from now, we’d be living our best life.” I slowly scratch the cat’s head and rub her cheeks. “All we have to do is trust him. He’s been nice so far, right? He hasn’t done or said anything creepy. He goes to work every day. And he calls me Sparkles, Gus.”
Sighing, I look around my sparse room. At the closet where me and my cat have litter boxes. At the door with the three deadbolts.
This isn’t a home. It’s a prison.
I’m eighteen now—a legal adult. Responsible for making my own life decisions—whether they’re right or wrong.
Jude is offering me a way out, and I’d be an idiot to say no. Marrying him and accepting his help could change my entire future.
I remind myself it’s not a real marriage. Not a real wedding. It’s nothing but a piece of paper that’ll get me out of this place and allow me to take care of myself the way I’m supposed to.
“You don’t have to call him Daddy, Gus. It’s not like that. I’m sure his dog will be nice to you. You might like having a furry friend to hang out with.”
The cat curls up next to me, apparently satisfied with our conversation.
I pick up my cell phone and press Jude’s number.
“Hey,” he greets.
“Hi…” I twirl my hair nervously around my finger. “I’ve been thinking about your proposal.”
“Let’s call it an arrangement, okay?”
“Arrangement,” I correct. “I was wondering if I could come over and see your house first?”
“Uh, sure. I should’ve offered that first. I wasn’t thinking—”
“It’s okay. I only just thought of it myself.”
“I just finished working out. I need to take a shower, so come around four?”
“Sounds good.”
“You can bring your friend if you want,” he offers. “If it’ll make you feel more comfortable.”
“I think I’d rather come alone. But thank you.”
“I’ll text you my address.”
Seconds later, the text comes through and I smile at the address. Winterberry Road. It sounds whimsical and safe.
“Wish me luck,” I say to Gus after I’ve put on a little makeup, a Doors sweatshirt, jeans, and black high-top sneakers.
Using the GPS on my phone for directions, I drive across town to a rural area I’m unfamiliar with. Winterberry Road is a wooded, winding side road branching off an equally winding side road. The houses are set back from the road and spaced far apart—nothing like the boring cookie-cutter houses on my street that are practically on top of each other. Jude’s mailbox is visible long before his house is, and I stare at it, making sure I have the right address before I pull into the long gravel driveway.
My heart starts to beat faster as I pull up to the house. I sip from my water bottle and open the window for fresh air, hoping to ground myself. I want to appear calm, mature, and levelheaded, even if I’m freaking out on the inside.
The two-story farmhouse-style house with wraparound porch, flowerbeds, and garage isn’t what I was expecting. It looks like a house a family would live in—not a single guy covered i
n tattoos. If his pickup wasn’t in the driveway, I’d think I was at the wrong house.
Befuddled, I park my car in front of the garage, next to his truck. As I walk up the brick path to the porch, the only thought running through my mind is; I could live here. I could sit on that porch swing. Gus could stare out the window at all these trees and see lots of birds and chipmunks.
“You found it.”
I jump at the sound of his voice. I was so lost in thought I didn’t hear him open the front door, and now a little furry dog is wiggling happily at my feet.
“Hi… I didn’t… She’s so cute,” I stammer, kneeling down to greet the adorable dog. She attempts to smother me with kisses. “Aren’t you the cutest thing?” I coo, running my hands through her soft fur. Her face is barely visible behind the mop hanging over her eyes.
“Cassie, come on. Let’s not maul her,” he says. “Sorry, she gets excited. We don’t get a lot of company. She’ll calm down once you’re not exciting anymore.” He grins awkwardly. “I mean, I’m sure you’re exciting, but you won’t be anymore. To her. I mean, you just won’t be new.” He cringes at his own awkwardness and it makes him sexy as hell. “You get what I’m saying.”
“I do.” I smile and gesture to the yard with a flip of my hand. “It’s pretty here.”
“Come inside.”
I follow him through the front door, and I’m relieved and surprised to see the inside is just as pretty and welcoming as the outside. A big kitchen opens up to a dining room. There’s a cozy living room with a gray-brick fireplace. And so many windows! Everything is neat and clean—with the exception of some basic clutter on the kitchen counter. The only scent in the air is Jude’s cologne. Or maybe it’s his aftershave or that beard oil I keep seeing on social media. Either way, nothing smells like it’s been forgotten and rotting.
“It’s beautiful,” I say. “I wasn’t expecting it to be so nice.”
“Why, ’cause I’m a single guy?”
“Yeah.”
His shoulders lift. “I’m surprised, too. It was my parents’ house, and I somehow inherited it. I’ve been slowly remodeling. This level is done, but I’m still working on the upstairs, and then I’ll finish the basement.”