Sidetracked: Part 1

by S. K. Kelley

  The live band is audible from here too, but the sound of the river and the busy road behind me leave the music muffled. I can’t make out the lyrics. Only bass and drums. A general mellow vibe.

  Ice’s eyes are closed when I look back. His hair shifts in the slight breeze. He is beautiful, an image of comfortable peace.

  I want to touch him, but I don’t move.

  “Do you even like Music@ThePark?” I ask.

  His eyes open and flick toward me. “I don’t dislike it. Why?”

  “I only come to get out of the house and hang out with friends. It’s not important to me. We can go somewhere else if you want.”

  “It’s alright.” He returns his attention to the sky. “Night used to drag me to these events all the time, so I’m used to it. Though, this is better than listening to her friends.”

  Is it? He honestly prefers doing absolutely nothing with me over hanging out with Night’s friends? That’s...surprising.

  He’s not even watching me, but I avert my gaze.

  “Still—” A hawk dips down toward the water. Diving in, it resurfaces with a small fish in its talons. “Oh, look!”

  My hand reaches for Ice’s arm. The other points toward the bird as it flies off with the fish. My fingers brush his skin, he makes a soft sound, and the muscles in his arm tense beneath my hand.

  Our eyes meet. His expression is rather blank, carrying a vague air of surprise, and my face flushes hotly in response. I release his arm and clasp both hands near my chest.

  “Sorry,” I stammer. “Um— Did you see the hawk?”

  He looks at the sky. At me. At his arm where I touched him. And then he laughs. His hand does not cover his mouth. In fact, he tucks his thumbs in his pockets.

  Ugh. Why am I like this?

  “I saw it,” he says.

  “Pretty cool, huh?” Unfortunately, I don’t have pockets to hide my hands in, so I tug on my bracelet instead. “You don’t see them in town often...”

  “Mm...”

  We’re both quiet for a moment, during which I stare only at the round, pink beads around my wrist and the slatted wood at my feet. Then Ice takes a breath.

  “You ready to head back down?” he asks.

  When I look up, he’s smiling again, seemingly unaffected. But I don’t believe it, and something about his expression leaves me with a lingering sense of guilt.

  Even so, I force a smile, and we walk back to the park.

  Thanks to Ice’s sharp eyes, we quickly meet up with Night. She’s still with Carmen, though they’re browsing a table full of band merch down the hill from the rest of their friend group. Night grins when she spots us and immediately asks me if Carmen should buy a rubber wristband or a t-shirt.

  Both include overt feline imagery, leading me to suspect Ten Toe Beans might be an immortal band—as though the name didn’t give it away.

  After checking his smartwatch, Ice excuses himself and turns onto a path leading up the hill, toward the restrooms. I watch for a second, but Carmen’s exclamation over a keychain shaped like a stylized cat paw print distracts me.

  Night laughs. “Have you even heard of this band before?”

  “Does it matter?” she asks with pursed lips. “Few artists are this bold, and I can’t ignore the irony.”

  I glance over the merchandise arranged on the table and have to agree it’s a lot of fun.

  “You could get all three?”

  Carmen beams at me, her arched brows betraying a touch of mischief, and she takes my questionable advice without hesitation, much to the satisfaction of the golden-eyed woman minding the table. After paying, she pulls the neon orange t-shirt over her tank top without removing the tag. The color clashes with her blue hair, but she pulls it off.

  “What’s next?” Night asks.

  “Well...” I glance up the hill. “Should we wait for Ice?”

  Both shake their heads.

  “He can catch up with us later,” Night says brightly. “Or give one of us a call if he gets lost.”

  Carmen snickers and starts up the path away from the stage. Night offers me a more reassuring smile, and we both follow. We end up sitting at a bench in partial shade. They discuss the band for a moment, and then Carmen leans forward to catch my attention.

  Her smile is shrewd and humored. “So, you and Ice, huh? I thought Night was kidding, but oof.”

  Oof? I guess I can’t argue, but...

  “Kidding about what?”

  She laughs instead of answering.

  “Ice is trying,” Night says, though her eyes are averted. “He’s just...struggling a little.”

  “Struggling with what?” I ask, no longer playing dumb.

  “Accepting reality. The sponsorship process was more complex and involved than he thought, and he has to live with that now.”

  “Oh.” I see.

  Carmen’s eyes widen. “Oh, right!” She flashes a conspiratorial smile, cups a hand near her mouth, and lowers her voice. “You were officially sponsored, right? Night said Ice picked up one of those necklaces for you. Is that it?”

  She points at my neck. As I nod, I feel more comfortable.

  “It’s called the River Sapphire. But it doesn’t work.”

  “Yet,” Night says.

  “Oh. Well, it’s cool anyway.”

  “Thanks.”

  The bench falls quiet. I listen to the band playing at the bottom of the hill—assertive female vocals over acoustic guitar—and watch people walk by on the path only a few feet away.

  I keep picturing the look on Ice’s face when I touched him. Blank surprise. Mild discomfort. It clearly bothered him, yet he set his hand on the small of my back hardly twenty minutes before. He laughed and said it was fine on our way back to the park, but...

  I know guys are confusing, but are they always this confusing?

  “Jayde,” Night says, perking up. “I asked Carmen earlier, but she can’t, so maybe you can spend the night?”

  “Spend the night?” I echo.

  She smiles, the expression warm. “Like a sleepover. We can listen to music, and I can do your nails and makeup if you want. It’ll be fun.”

  “Sure,” I agree, unsure why I’m so intimidated by the offer. “I mean, it’s not like I have anything better to do at home.”

  Carmen throws her head back in a dramatic groan. “Now I really wish I didn’t make those appointments in the morning.”

  Night’s smile grows apologetic as Carmen rants on about how she’s falling behind on verifiable intern hours for her cosmetology program. She mentioned beauty college before, but I didn’t realize it was so intensive. Working up to five days a week without pay?

  At least she knows what she wants to do.

  “I’ll invite you next time,” Night assures her.

  She pouts, her disappointment largely feigned. “At least send me pictures. I would kill to do Jayde’s hair and makeup.” Flashing a wicked smile, she raises a hand and holds it just below her ear. “An asymmetrical bob would be perfect.”

  “On Jayde?” Night asks, her eyes wide.

  I gasp and hold my hands to my fat, messy bun as I laugh. “I really like my hair, you know.”

  Carmen shrugs. “Hey, I know growing your hair out that long takes serious dedication, but it makes you look like you’re fifteen.”

  “Do I seriously look like I’m fifteen?”

  Night laughs, shaking her head. “Of course not.”

  “You’re so small and cute.” Carmen sighs, her hands pressed to her cheeks. Then she stops kicking her legs, sits up straight, and looks to me with a vacant expression. “How old are you, anyway?”

  “Nineteen,” I answer, my voice echoing her uncertainty.

  She lets out a deep breath. “Oh, wow, I guess that makes sense since you just finished your first year at RCC, right? Dumb question, sorry.”

  “No, it’s fine!”

  Do I seriously look so young with long hair?

  “Actually—” She hops up fro
m the bench and turns to face me. “—can I see your hair for a minute?”

  The hairspray has probably eased up by now, so...

  “As long as you don’t pull out scissors,” I say.

  She laughs and hovers nearby as I undergo the arduous process of locating and removing all eight bobby pins from my hair. I take out the first hair tie. Carmen stops me there, so I let the slightly crispy ponytail fall. She asks for permission before she combs her fingers through the hair trapped by the ponytail.

  “It is very nice,” she says, her voice wistful. “But give me a minute; I’ve been dying to fix that bun.”

  “Oh, ah—”

  Fluffy, blue hair falls over her face as she leans to one side to look me in the eye. “If you don’t mind?”

  “Go ahead.” I feel my cheeks warm, so I glance away. “I don’t know much about putting my hair up, to be honest.”

  I half expect her to say, “I can tell,” but she doesn’t. She beams and lets my hair out of the ponytail. Standing behind me and the bench, she begins to braid my hair.

  “Not many people have hair this long,” she says. She compares the length to her sister’s hair, but I guess mine is thicker.

  I forgot how relaxing it is to have someone else mess with my hair. Maybe I should go to a salon. Rose usually trims my split ends every few months, but we’ve both been so busy with school. And now she’s out of town.

  Ah, I don’t know...

  Where the heck did Ice go?

  It takes Carmen less than five minutes to braid my hair and fix it into a surprisingly loose bun, and she only had to use a few extra bobby pins from the stash in her wallet. After asking permission again, she takes a few pictures with her phone.

  Night and I scoot over to make room for her, and Carmen sits beside me. She jumps right into showing off the photos. She’s quite proud of her work, and she should be. The bun is perfect—neat and round, formed from a swirl of teased braid at the back of my head. It’s still heavy, but there’s not much to be done about that.

  “Thanks,” I say. “It looks way better now.”

  She grins. “No, thank you. It’s always fun working with super long hair. I will definitely be at your next sleepover.”

  “Might be sooner than later,” Night says. She fluffs up her own hair and adjusts the large bow atop her head. “I need a haircut. I may go quite short this time.”

  Carmen gasps. “A pixie?” When Night nods, Carmen reaches over me to grab both of her hands. “Yes, girl, finally!”

  They laugh, but I’m distracted as I spot Ice approaching. Our eyes meet, and he raises a hand in acknowledgment. He looks more relaxed and comfortable, full of effortless immortal awareness.

  “What do you think?” Night asks, glancing at Ice as he stops beside the bench. “Should I get a pixie cut?”

  He considers it briefly before shrugging with his hands. Instead of answering her question, he asks me how late I want to stay. It’s still fairly early—just after 7PM—and the concert usually wraps up around nine.

  Should we stay for the whole thing?

  I don’t know, but I do mention Night’s sleepover invitation. He isn’t fazed. When he asks if we’ll need to stop by my house on the way, she interjects to say I can borrow anything I need from her.

  “Ugh! The more you talk about it, the more bummed I get.”

  “Oh? You can’t come?” He flashes an easy smile. “You and Jayde are also friends, then?”

  “Well, duh,” she says, patting the bun atop my head. “Any cute friend of Night is a friend of mine. But what about you, Ice? I know you’re her sponsor or whatever, but are you guys a thing?”

  Carmen! A thing?

  I force the flustered dismay off my face and turn to watch Ice, surely more expectant than she is. His expression hasn’t shifted at all—well, it may have mellowed slightly, but it’s hard to tell.

  “A thing?” His eyes flick between us. Then he glances aside with a fleeting frown before refocusing Carmen with renewed confidence. “I suppose you could say it’s something like that.”

  A pang of uncertainty rattles me.

  Carmen groans to my left. When I glance over, her lavender eyes are narrowed in suspicion.

  “Fine,” she says. “Keep your secrets.”

  Ice smiles. “Now then, ladies, what shall we do next?”

  twenty-two

  NIGHT STUCK WITH US after Carmen took off with her boyfriend, and the three of us hung out for another hour before deciding it’s time to go. It’s almost 9PM. The last band is wrapping up their set, and I’m getting a little hungry.

  As we walk down the path toward the parking lot, Night suggests we stop at a restaurant on the way to their house.

  “You girls get along better than I expected.”

  “Does it bother you?” she asks.

  When I look to Ice, he flashes a smile and shakes his head. “Of course not. It’s merely an observation.”

  “I wasn’t sure we would get along at first,” I admit. “Because of how we met, you know?”

  “Ah— Yes, well...” She shields her face with one hand, her smile forced. “It turns out I was wrong, and I’m lucky you’re quite forgiving.”

  I laugh. “I still feel bad for getting so defensive. For a second there, I thought you were his girlfriend.”

  “Ha.” It sounds like a laugh, but her eyes betray surprise. “You thought that?”

  “Oh, um—”

  My face goes hot.

  As she watches me with muted curiosity, I suddenly wish I hadn’t mentioned it. The conversation we had that day was beyond uncomfortable. It was not my greatest moment—rivaling the first impression I left Ice with.

  Ugh...

  “What are we doing for dinner? Any preferences, Jayde?”

  I clasp my hands around my purse’s strap, both thankful that Ice changed the subject and absolutely unsure what I want to eat. But I go with the first thing that comes to mind.

  “Crêpes, maybe?”

  “A diner, then?” Night asks with a smile. “I know the perfect place, and it’s on the way home.”

  We eat at a family-owned diner, pick up a to-go meal for Smoke, and head toward Westbrooke.

  In the backseat, Night gushes over the gel polish kit Carmen gifted her last Christmas. She hasn’t had the chance to use it on anyone besides herself—and Carmen, once. I’ve never had gel nails before, and that only excites her more.

  Ice parks his car in the garage and, while we’re gathered in the hallway, excuses himself to take a shower. He shuts himself in the bathroom, so I follow Night to meet up with Smoke, who is sitting at the dining table in the great room.

  “Why didn’t you come with us?” I ask.

  I take a seat as Night hands her twin the clear plastic takeout box. He opens the container and looks over the chocolate crêpes inside before meeting my gaze.

  “Night can third wheel if she wants, but I’m not interested.”

  “Oh, come on.” She waves off his comment with a mild laugh. “It wasn’t like that at all. I spent most of the evening with Carmen. I saw Hannah and Dawn, and— Oh, that reminds me...”

  She trails off, and Smoke tips his head as though still listening. After a moment, they both glance at me.

  Then he shrugs and takes a bite of crêpe. “Besides Carmen and Lucas, I hardly talk to anyone from high school anymore. Most of my friends are online. You know that.”

  She smothers a grimace. “I suppose neither of us knew them well back then.”

  That twin telepathy thing is something else.

  “You had fun, though?” he asks.

  She nods.

  I also nod even though I have mixed feelings. Between Ice’s reaction to being touched and his noncommittal answer when asked if we were dating, the evening was...a lot to take in. I need time to process.

  Maybe this sleepover is a good idea.

  We speak with Smoke a few minutes longer before returning to the hallway, where Night collects sever
al things from the small linen closet. I help her carry the pile of bedding, and she opens her bedroom door for us.

  Despite having stayed at the Monroe house before, I never saw Night’s room for more than a few seconds. For whatever reason, I just never went in there.

  The walls are a soft blue gradient. The color compliments the other pastels and neutrals in the room, though I can barely make out the wall through the photos, framed paintings, and grade school art projects hanging on it. The rest of the decor is equally cutesy, and a variety of niche collections on the desk and floating shelves make the room feel deliberately cluttered.

  Her bed is a twin-size mattress set with an elegant wrought-iron frame and muted violet bedding. An impressive collection of bows and other hair accessories hang from the curled headboard, and fairy lights strung on the wall cast a soothing, warm glow over the area.

  There’s an open closet to the left, obscured by a curtain. A compact, white desk is set up further in the corner, with a stained-glass lamp on top and a cushioned desk stool pushed underneath.

  The centerpiece of the room is the fancy dressing table against the far wall. It has a large built-in mirror, and the drawers are embellished with colorful glass knobs that resemble cut crystals. At least a dozen silk flower crowns border the oblong mirror frame.

  Night closes the door and sets the guest bedding near the foot of her bed. I leave the pillow I offered to carry on top and drop everything else I brought beside it.

  “Sorry it’s a mess,” she says.

  A mess?

  There’s nothing on the floor or atop any surface that doesn’t look like it belongs there. But what do I know?

  “It’s fine,” I assure her. “I like it.”

  With a smile, she pulls the sheet over the closet aside and reveals a collection of feminine dresses, blouses, and coats hanging above a chest of drawers. Tall bookcases are set up behind the clothing on either side of the dresser, and I count a good two dozen pairs of boots and shoes neatly arranged on the floor.

  “Do you want shorts, pants, or a nightdress?” she asks before gesturing over the drawer she opened while I was busy admiring her closet.