This has been a long-standing tradition of ours. We bet on the predictions of the night before the party begins. The winner gets bragging rights and a dessert, paid for by the losers, from the award-winning bakery in town. The deserts there are worth more than the bragging rights and cost almost a whole week’s allowance. We are all very competitive about winning these silly bets.
Carla stops spinning and lifts a finger in the air. “I’ll go first. I say Jeremy Powell is the first to puke. He can never hold his liquor. The couple to use the pool house first will be Jenny Drayden and Mike Loughlin. They haven’t been able to keep their hands off each other all week at school.”
Steph nods her head. “True, and all great guesses, but I think I can do better. So, for the first to puke, I will say Byron’s buddy Riley. He usually ends up puking at some point, so there’s a good chance of him being first. For the couple that makes it to the pool house first, I will say Tisha and whatever poor fool follows her. That skank may as well have a mattress strapped to her back.”
I almost choke on the sip of beer I take but get it down my throat before the laughter escapes. Steph never fails to amuse. I suck at these bets because I don’t pay attention to the kids I go to school with - not like my friends do. An idea comes, and I smile triumphantly. “Get ready to pay, ladies. I’m winning this one. So, the first one to puke will be Byron because he’ll drink a lot of alcohol to impress his friends, especially the new guy. And speaking of the new guy, I’m saying he is the first one dragged into the pool house by whichever lucky girl is brave enough to make the first move.” I take a bow, thoroughly pleased with myself.
“Does it still count if one of us is the one to drag him in?” Both Carla and I look at Steph with our mouths open. She shrugs her shoulders in response. “What? I’m just asking.”
Carla shakes her head and laughs. “Steph, you’re such a slut.”
Steph fluffs her wavy hair and says, “Jealousy is a very flattering look on you.”
We are all laughing when suddenly we notice the noise level outside. You would think a celebrity just entered our backyard with the level of cheers and whistles. We all look at each other, but it’s Carla who states the obvious. “I guess the new guy showed up.”
Steph tries to get a better look into the yard, but the trees are blocking most of the view. “Girls, I think it’s time for our grand entrance.”
We make our way out of the set of doors that lead to the back deck where more kids are already loitering. The kitchen had a few strays wandering around, but we didn’t stop to chat. I nod to a few here and smile, noticing the change in my appearance and the bolder fashion statement isn’t missed. I feel uncomfortable, but then remember I’m not the insecure and mousy girl I’ve been shaped into. No, I’m still me underneath that and it’s time to bring her forward. I toss my hair over my shoulder and walk behind my friends with a snap to my spine.
As we file through the back deck and squeeze past the kids who can’t bother to move for us, I reach out and grab Steph’s hand. “Hey, the new kid, what’s his name again?”
She turns with a slight lift of her shoulder. “The guys on the football team call him Cameron, but I think that’s his last name. I can’t remember because only his looks matter, if you know what I mean? Why? Feeling brave tonight?”
I’m not sure how brave I feel, but I know I don’t want to appear clueless. The kids at school have just been referring to him as whatever moniker they think will make the biggest statement when talking about him. I know I’ve heard it, but I hadn’t really cared enough to pay attention to it. Now, there is a niggle in my memory about that name, but I am too focused on other things. If he’s on the football team, then he is most likely with Byron and his meathead friends. I don’t want to be at a disadvantage before my brother. He would have far too much fun at my expense. I roll my eyes and reply, “Not even close. Let’s find more alcohol then ask me that question again.”
She rolls her eyes back at me. “You don’t need liquid courage to smile and look gorgeous. Come on, we need to follow the crowd and the noise. We’ll make sure we’re seen, cause a stirring in some loins, then we can get you that drink you so desperately want to hide behind.” She turns and jogs down the wooden stairs, trying to catch up with Carla.
I’ve no choice but to follow, so I race down the stairs behind her.
She wasn’t kidding about the crowds and the noise. The clusters of giggling girls and the loud laughter from the boys are like a neon sign pointing us to where the excitement is. I keep reminding myself that I am not the wallflower anymore. I slide up beside Steph and raise my chin. I feel eyes on me and hear a few whispers, but let it flow through me.
Most of the kids are lounging on chairs by the fire, but I spot Byron and Riley talking to another guy off to the side. This must be the new kid. His back is to us, but he’s broad and tall. It’s dark outside, so his hair could be anything from dark brown to black. He’s wearing a black t-shirt that’s stretched tight across the expanse of his back and a pair of faded blue jeans which are cupping a very nice ass. I haven’t seen his face yet, but already I can understand why he’s become the focus of so much attention with the female student body.
Byron is saying something to him, and the new kid is nodding his head to whatever it is he told him. I’m just about to ask Steph if we should get chairs when he turns around, and my world tips sideways on its axis.
A face that is achingly beautiful and familiar, while still being completely new, takes me back to a time in my life where my world was perfect and made sense. A time where the best parts of my days were spent with a younger version of this boy, I’ve not seen in six years, and never thought to see again. He is scanning the crowd and smiling at a few of the comments being thrown around the fire, and I suddenly feel like an imposter in my own skin.
I don’t want him to see me, so I go grab Steph’s hand, but someone has already spotted me. “Speak of the devil, and she appears. Come, give your brother a hug.” This is met by snickers from the gathered crowd and a few not-so-flattering comments about me.
I must look like a deer facing down a hunter as I stare in horror at my brother, who quickly makes his way over, and to my utter horror, throws his arm around my shoulder and marches (drags) me the short distance back to the ghost of my past. The closer I get, the more of the child I knew is visible, along with the startling clarity of his mature beauty. No, not beauty. He was a beautiful boy, but there is nothing boyish about the person looking at me with mild curiosity. There is rugged masculinity to his face now and his body is even taller, broader, and more heavily muscled than it appeared from a distance. No, the beautiful boy I knew has become a drop-dead gorgeous man.
I’m stiff beside Byron as he says, “Cameron, I’d like to introduce you to the girl I was just telling you about. Meet my sister, Jolene.”
This moment has no sound. It's like a deafening silence has descended around me and all I can do is watch the shock, recognition, joy, sorrow, and confusion cross Cruz’s face as he absorbs the fact, he is standing across from his childhood friend. Once the myriad emotions stop chasing each other across his face, a polite mask drops over him like a shroud, but I don’t miss the iciness that enters his eyes. “Nice to meet you, Jolene.” I don’t miss the emphasis on my name, but I doubt anyone else picks up on it.
Byron gives my shoulder an almost bruising squeeze, as he says with an air of authority, “As long as you remember what I told you, we won’t have any problems. Jolene is a good girl, regardless of how she appears tonight.” With that comment, he glares down at me and gives me another hard squeeze, “And she knows my dad would not approve of anyone sniffing around his darling daughter.”
His message couldn’t be clearer, and I am horrified at the way Byron just put a “Do Not Touch” stamp on me in front of everyone. Has he been doing this all along? No wonder none of the boys have ever approached me. I guess “locker boy” from the first day was risking a lot to even speak to me.
/>
The arm around my shoulder suddenly feels like a chain around my neck. Anger rushes swiftly to the surface and before I know what I am doing, I throw his arm from my body and spin around, getting right in his face. With six years’ worth of frustration and rage, I snarl, “I’m not a piece of property and you have no authority over me! You’re my stepbrother, and one I barely tolerate. Don’t pretend you give a damn about me, either. We both know you only care about how I make you look and your precious family name. Don’t worry, I won’t do anything to tarnish your crooked crown, but I’m done with being your puppet.”
I know I’ll be paying for that little outburst later, but right now I feel better than I have in a long time. Byron is vibrating with anger and his eyes fill with a hatred that should scare me, but he won’t say anything in front of this crowd of his loyal subjects. I don’t wait to see what anyone else thinks of my little tantrum; I spin on my heel, push my way through the silent crowd, and storm off. I don’t stop until I get to the side of the pool house that faces the back of the yard.
With no one around to see me, I finally fall apart.
I don’t know how long I stand leaning against the wall with my eyes shut, allowing the cocktail of my emotions to drown me in their toxins, but my tears have long since dried, when I realize I am no longer alone. I’m not in the mood to deal with anyone yet, so I open my eyes and am prepared to tell whoever is hovering to just leave me alone, but the words die before they even make it to my lips.
Standing just a few feet in front of me, with his hands shoved in the front pockets of his jeans, Cruz watches me with careful eyes. I watch him as carefully back - this boy who was once my entire world, now a man I don’t even know. He takes a measured step toward me, and I watch his chest expand with a deep breath before he says, “I don’t even know where to start.” He shakes his head a little and his lips lift on one side. “I can’t even believe I’m standing here with you.”
I nod in understanding. “I know the feeling.”
He nods his head in the house's direction. “So, this is where you live?”
I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “I wouldn’t call it living.”
He tilts his head like he’s trying to figure out the puzzle to my words, and the gesture is so familiar, I feel tears in my eyes. He asks quietly, “Is there somewhere we can talk? If you want to? I get that we knew each other as kids, but you don’t know me now, and your brother--”
“--my stepbrother is not my keeper, much as he pretends to be. He’s just his father’s guard dog,” I say with a bitter taste in my mouth from even having to explain that.
“Fine, is there somewhere we can go?” He rocks back on his feet while he waits for my answer.
I nod my head and walk around the side of the pool house, not bothering to check if he’s following me. When I get to the door, I knock once to let anyone who might be there know they are about to have company, then turn the handle and step into the dark space - which is free of any tangled and horny bodies. I flick the light on, illuminating a room that is more like a lounging area than a place to change and dry off. There is a bathroom off to the right and a small utility closet beside it, but the main part of the room has comfortable wicker furniture, and along the far wall are shelves with plush towels, a drying rack, and a dryer. I can only imagine what Cruz thinks about the obscene display of wealth and luxury for something as trivial as a pool house.
I wait for him to make his way past me, then I lock the door as subtly as I can and follow him as he takes in his surroundings. He stops in the middle of the room, then pivots back with one eyebrow raised and a carefully blank look on his face. “This room is more elaborate than half the homes on the other side of the tracks.”
I’m not sure if he means that to be insulting, but my back straightens when I reply, “Money doesn’t mean better.”
He blows his bangs off his forehead; bangs that are still long - as is the hair at the back of his neck - then he runs his hand through his hair, just like he did when we were kids. My eyes sting with tears again at how hauntingly familiar it is. His eyes lose the guarded look from moments ago and soften as his gaze travels all over my face - like he’s trying to reconcile the young woman before him with the girl he knew as a child. He moves into my personal space and looks down at me with such tenderness. “God, it’s really you. My, Jo.”
With those whispered words, the tears trickle over my lashes and I can’t stand the distance for a moment longer. I close the last few inches between us and throw my arms around him as sobs choke my lungs. His strong arms close around my back and crush me to a muscled chest that is unfamiliar, but the smell of sunshine and leaves are still there, and that is all I need to know. The boy I cherished as a young girl, is the one who is holding me as tightly as I am holding him.
A Night to Forget
We finally pull ourselves away from each other and sit on one of the wicker couches. I keep staring at him, trying to reconcile the fact he is here and not just a memory.
He clears his throat and says in a husky voice, “Jo, I have so many questions, but before we go there, I need to ask something of you.”
I nod my head and say eagerly, “Sure.”
He lifts a muscled arm and rubs the back of his neck in a nervous gesture, flexing a defined bicep. “This will sound weird, and I can explain, but I need you to promise me you won’t tell anyone you know me.”
What? I’m shocked by his request, and frankly, hurt. “Why? Are you ashamed of me?”
His eyes open wide and he looks surprised by my words. “No, of course not! It’s just that I can’t risk my past jeopardizing all that I’ve built on this side of the tracks. This is my only chance to get a scholarship. If people knew where I came from, it would cost me that.”
“Is that why you’re using your dad’s last name?” Yeah, I finally remembered where I heard that name before.
He gives me a single nod. “Not long after you left, my dad became a partner at the auto shop he worked at since high school. The shop is on this side of the tracks and has a small apartment above the shop that the other partner rented out. My dad asked if he would rent it to him, and we moved. Dad wanted me to have a fresh start and changed my last name to his. Apparently, my mom’s parents still didn’t want to have anything to do with their disgraced daughter’s bastard child, so dad had no problem changing it.” He stops to make sure I’m following, so I nod my head for him to continue. “As the years passed, dad made enough money to buy us our own house closer in town, and I got to attend a high school that was good. Dad encouraged me to try out for some sports, and I found a love for football. No one knew where I came from, and they accepted me as if I belonged there. My coach told me I had real talent, but all I cared about was being part of a team and playing a game I loved.”
“Okay, I understand that, but why should it matter where you came from?” I felt like a child again, when he was explaining something I didn’t grasp.
“When Haventree Prep contacted Dad about pulling me from my current school so I could play for them, they clarified that they didn’t want their prestigious football team ‘tainted’ by dirty roots. They offended my dad at first and he refused them, but then they threw in a scholarship fund if I came to play, but only if my past stayed buried. My dad left the decision to me, and I accepted.” He gives me a hopeful smile, but I can’t manage one in return.
“Let me guess, my stepbrother already said something to you about where I came from?” I can feel anger heating my stomach and welcome its familiar warmth.
He shrugs his shoulder and nods his head. “And a few of the other kids. Jo, I can see that you’re pissed, but I have my whole future riding on this secret.”
As I look at this stranger before me, I realize that any thoughts I had about being reunited with the boy I knew, were foolish dreams of a little girl. This is the reality. This is my reality; one where I am always the one to suffer in silence. I stand up to leave, needing space from him, but he
grabs my hand. I look down at him and then pointedly at my hand. “Please let me go.” And I mean that in more ways than one.
His eyes become wild and panicked. “Wait a minute, it doesn’t have to be like this. We can get to know each other again. We can become friends as the people we are now. I never implied I didn’t want to know you, just that we can’t let anyone know we’ve met before tonight.”
I sigh and shake my head. “Cruz, how do you think that would work? I’m the unwanted sister of the school prince, one who comes from the wrong side of the tracks. I’ve been shunned here most of my life, and these kids will never accept you if you associate yourself with me, even as a friend. Boys don’t talk to me here. If they do, they only want one thing.”
His cheeks turn pink at my implied meaning, but he doesn’t back down. “Then I’ll be the first to just want your friendship.”
I don’t know why those words sting, but they do. I try a different angle for him to see my point. “Besides the other guys giving you a hard time about wanting to be friends with a girl, you’d need to get past Byron, and that will never happen.”
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