Sidetracked: Part 1

by S. K. Kelley

  AFTER FINISHING THE hot dog I roasted over the small fire Smoke lit in the wrought-iron firepit, I return to the table near the stairs. I eat another piece of watermelon, and Ice hands me a full glass of pink lemonade. I accept it, and we make our way back to the edge of the patio.

  BANG!

  I scan the sky, but I don’t catch the bloom of colorful sparks from whatever large firework went off in the distance.

  The twins play with sparklers in the dimly lit yard, and I check my phone between drinks. Scrolling down FaceSpace, I pass a few party posts from friends. Rose spent the day at a huge family barbecue. Carmen is at a house party, but I don’t recognize any of the tagged names or faces in her photos. Night uploaded a selfie, a picture of Smoke posing with a lit sparkler in each hand, and...a photo of me and Ice, sitting on the patio together—though an emoji sticker covers his face.

  I didn’t notice her take it, and she didn’t tag me in the post. With a shifty glance in Ice’s direction, I lock my phone.

  “You plan to sit there all evening?” Night asks, coming toward us with a skip in her step.

  Ice smiles easily. “Perhaps we will. What’s it to you?”

  “Poor Jayde.” She laughs. “You’re gonna bore her to death.”

  “I’m fine,” I insist.

  “It’s far easier to enjoy the evening vicariously through you,” Ice tells her.

  Rolling her eyes, she continues up the steps and past us. She pours herself another glass of spiked strawberry lemonade—this is the second or third pitcher she’s mixed, I think.

  “We’re heading out in about an hour, right?” she asks.

  “That’s the plan.”

  She ignores him and smiles at me. “Having fun?”

  I grin and nod.

  And I mean it. Even if we’re only sitting on the patio, watching as the twins set off fireworks in the yard without us, I’m having a good time. This isn’t stressful or overwhelming like some of the parties I attended with Rose in the past. The atmosphere is relaxed. Calm. And the anxiety I felt earlier in the day is gone.

  Sitting here with Ice, I am having fun.

  She offers me a thumbs up before racing back into the center of the yard, where Smoke is setting up another round of mid-sized fireworks.

  “I dare you to light one off with a sparkler,” he says.

  Ice sort of laughs and rolls his eyes. His expression is humored but mild and friendly.

  “She’s worried,” he says, holding a conspiratorial hand near his mouth as though to block his voice from reaching the twins in the yard. “About everything, all the time. Isn’t that funny?”

  “It’s not a bad thing, you know? She’s like a mom.”

  “Like a mom...?” He glances away.

  A flush of warmth rises from my chest to my cheeks.

  “Hey, um—” This is your moment, Jayde. I hold up my phone. “Will you take a picture with me?”

  Our eyes meet, his just wide enough to betray surprise. Maybe he doesn’t like to be in pictures if he can avoid it, but, when we’re not together, it almost feels like he doesn’t exist at all. So, maybe having a picture would...

  That doesn’t make sense. Ugh...

  “Yeah, why not,” he says with a mild shrug.

  Wow. I didn’t expect it to work.

  He motions for me to move closer. So I do, and he slings his arm over my shoulder. Our heads don’t quite touch, but... This is the closest we’ve been. And it doesn’t bother me.

  I open my phone’s camera and frame both of us in the screen. My arm wavers for a few seconds before I steady it enough to snap a decent photo.

  He’s smiling in the picture. My cheeks are flushed—from the alcohol?—but I look happy too. It’s not so bad. Though, I wish he were more like that all the time.

  Removing his arm from my shoulder, he peeks at my phone screen. And he sighs. “Just don’t post it anywhere, alright?”

  I knew it. But it is the perfect excuse to not send it to Rose.

  “That’s fine,” I agree, my smile unaffected as I touch up the picture’s lighting and contrast.

  I make the photo his contact image in my phone, take another drink of spiked lemonade, and eat the last chunk of watermelon on my plate.

  “Need more?” he asks.

  “Ha. I can get it.”

  Empty plate in hand, I leave the edge of the patio—opting to hop off and walk back up the stairs to get to the table. I set my phone down as I fill the plate with watermelon chunks and pretzel sticks.

  “Jayde!” Night calls from the middle of the yard, her voice muffled by the sharp crackling of the firework going off beside her. “Come here for a minute!”

  “Coming!”

  I leave my plate with Ice before I dash down the stairs.

  thirty-two

  THE ALCOHOL KICKED in by the time I emptied my second glass. My face grew warmer. My eyes tracked slower. No one stopped me when I went for a third—I guess they thought I was alright—but I haven’t moved for at least twenty minutes, so I don’t even know if I’m alright.

  The sun is gone, the sky black and navy and dotted with faint stars. From what I understand, the plan is to head out to a cul-de-sac in some unfinished subdivision within Westbrooke. It’s not far, so we’ll walk. Then we’ll set off the skyrockets and come back.

  Or something like that. I can’t remember exactly.

  I scratch my neck where the River Sapphire’s thin chain rests against my skin. The air is cooling slowly but surely. The breeze prickles the hairs on my arms, but my cheeks are still so warm.

  Am I drunk?

  I don’t think so?

  I feel...fuzzy, I guess. And I laugh at the dumbest things, including Ice’s suggestion that we leave and head for the cul-de-sac soon.

  But I’m fine.

  He helps me stand. I laugh again as lemonade sloshes over the rim of my glass—it’s nearly empty. Then I look up into his eyes.

  And I wish he would kiss me.

  Huh? What?

  Oh. We’re still holding hands.

  Shaking my head, I pull away. I glance around, but the twins must have gone inside while I wasn’t paying attention. Ice and I are alone on the patio, and I’m still giggling, holding my free hand over my mouth.

  He chuckles. “You good?”

  I nod, but he tries to take my glass away. I glare at him and down the last mouthful. Flashing a grin, I finally hand over the empty glass.

  “Yeah... That’s enough for you.”

  I laugh. “You drank like two times that.”

  “The difference being, I am perfectly fine after drinking two times that.”

  What is that supposed to mean?

  I am fine.

  Confused, I stare into his eyes.

  They’re pretty—so bright and blue even in the low light. After several long seconds of quiet staring, the thinly veiled amusement leaves his expression, and he rolls his eyes. I have half a mind to be offended until he smiles and shakes his head.

  “Come on. Let’s go.”

  He rests a warm hand on my shoulder and leads me into the house. But, instead of meeting up with the twins out front, we end up in his bedroom, where we drift apart. Feeling uneasy—a little sick to my stomach all of a sudden—I sit on the edge of the bed.

  While he slides the closet door open, I reach down to fix my loose shoelaces.

  This would be easier if I weren’t hiccuping.

  “Need to borrow a coat?” he asks.

  I consider it carefully—if only because it’s hard to imagine wearing any of Ice’s clothes. I may have had a fleeting thought that I wouldn’t mind trying on his leather jacket a couple weeks ago, but I don’t know.

  Though, I eventually agree through stifled laughter. I wasn’t expecting a chill breeze, so I did not pack one of my own.

  “There aren’t many options,” he says slowly.

  I glance over. He’s browsing the clothes in his closet. I’ve never seen it open before.

&nbs
p; He shifts his weight every few seconds, appearing indecisive, but he soon pulls something off the rod to show me. A long, black overcoat with all sorts of neat buttons and straps on the front. It would look cool on him, but he asks if it will work for me.

  That seems like a bit much.

  My mouth accepts his offer, though, and he tosses the coat onto the bed. It lands halfway in my lap.

  Well, alright...

  I heft myself to my feet, nearly falling over in the process, and manage to shrug into the dark overcoat. On me, it is unfashionably large, the hem falling well below my knees, but the heavy material is surprisingly soft. It’s warm and comfortable.

  The coat smells like Ice too—or his closet, anyway. Clean. A hint of sweetness. A touch of spice.

  “This is fine,” I say, hiccuping between words.

  I fiddle with the buttons, but I can’t get my fingers to work well enough to fasten them. I had similar trouble with my shoelaces, but this is worse. For some reason...

  Why can’t I button up a stupid coat?

  Silver, metal buttons. Black fabric.

  Just put it in the hole.

  Ha—!

  Come on, Jayde. Focus.

  With a quiet huff and an offer to help I only hear half of, Ice crosses the room and stops in front of me. He bypasses the buttons and goes straight for the waist strap instead—which rests more on my hips than on my waist.

  I find myself watching his eyes as he works. He seems intent and carefully focused on tightening the waist strap without touching me more than absolutely necessary. How annoying.

  Once finished, he meets my gaze, but he doesn’t say anything.

  A loud firework goes off somewhere in the distance.

  “Hey, um...” My head tips to one side. “Do you like me?”

  Huh??

  My question catches him off guard, and his eyes widen ever so slightly as his pleasant expression falters.

  I can’t believe I asked out loud either, but I don’t panic or get so flustered I take it back. While my heart races, the alcohol works its magic, lending me the courage I need to commit and stand my ground.

  Then he smiles.

  “Of course I do,” he says. “You’re very interesting.”

  Interesting?

  I lean closer. The motion throws me off balance, and I plant a hand on the nearest surface, which happens to be Ice’s chest, to steady myself. He tenses at my touch, but he doesn’t move or take his eyes off me, and his expression hardly shifts.

  “Interesting?” I echo. “The hell does that mean?”

  He laughs.

  My hands close around the fabric of his t-shirt.

  And I kiss him.

  His lips are warm and soft. His breath smells like lemon syrup and alcohol. I’ve been aching for this moment for weeks.

  But my eyes are still open.

  I don’t know why they’re still open, and I wish they weren’t. Because, as he draws a sharp breath, his eyes immediately grow wide. Blue and beautiful and full of alarm. He doesn’t look away even as the fleeting surprise fades. He doesn’t break the kiss or step back to distance himself, but he’s not exactly reciprocating either.

  I finally made a move.

  He said he likes me, and I kissed him, but...

  Oh, god. I screwed up.

  Stumbling backward, I cover my mouth with my hands.

  “I’m sorry,” I gasp. “I— I don’t know why I did that just now. I’m, uh...”

  He averts his eyes and presses a couple fingers to his lips. Both his posture and expression are unreadable. Neutral. Blank, almost. Until he takes a deep, even breath and regains his composure.

  As he meets my gaze, he clears his throat.

  “It’s okay,” he says. “It was nothing, right?”

  Nothing?

  This was clearly a mistake.

  He offers a smile I can only assume is meant to be reassuring, but it does not reassure me at all. I have never felt so humiliated in my life. My cheeks are on fire. My heart races. The stupid hiccups are back, and I want to cry.

  He probably doesn’t even like me like that.

  He probably hates me now.

  Ugh... I’m such an idiot!

  “We should go.” He pats my head, his touch gentle. “The twins are waiting out front.”

  Ice leaves the room. I trail after him, but I stop just outside the door. I glance down the hallway, away from the den.

  And, as my feet go for it, I yell, “One second— I have to pee,” and stumble into the bathroom before he has a chance to stop me.

  Back pressed to the door, I pause to catch my breath, unexpectedly winded after traveling hardly six feet. Then a rush of nausea rises in my throat. I step further into the room, and my hands grip the edge of the sink.

  You will not throw up, you coward.

  I take a few deep breaths and, after pushing the sleeves of Ice’s ridiculous coat up to my elbows, splash some water on my face. I use the toilet, knock the soap dispenser over while washing my hands, and splash more water on my face.

  Okay, maybe I am a bit drunk.

  I fix my hair and creep out of the bathroom.

  The hallway is empty, the den at the end lit only by the fairy lights in the backyard and a single light turned on somewhere in the great room. Dreading every moment, I make my way through the house. Through the den and empty great room, and out into the front yard.

  Ice and the twins are waiting near the curb. He speaks easily with them, and Night waves me over, her voice warm as she calls my name. I can’t bring myself to return her smile, but I walk out and join them.

  Honestly, no matter what Ice said, I feel like I ruined the night beyond salvaging. I really did want to kiss him, but I didn’t think I’d actually do it.

  Night passes the small cardboard box containing the skyrockets to her brother. Ice looks at me, his expression unclear in the shadow cast by the streetlights, and I immediately avert my gaze. The guys walk several paces ahead while I trail behind with Night.

  This works better, anyway. I’d rather spontaneously combust than deal with Ice right now.

  Oh! She still has some lemonade.

  Before I can change my mind, I point at the half-empty glass in her hand and ask if I can have it.

  “Is everything alright?” Concern flashes over her delicate features as she takes a good look at me. “Did Ice do something? Are you okay?”

  I shake my head, stifling panicked laughter. “He didn’t...do anything. I’m fine, but I kind of, um—” Cupping a hand over my mouth, I lower my voice. “—kissed him for some reason.”

  “You’re serious?” she asks, eyes wide and voice hushed. “You kissed him?”

  “Yeah, and I think it freaked him out, so...”

  “Are you sure you should drink more?”

  My eyes drift around the dim street until I’m once again facing straight ahead. Ice glances over his shoulder, and our eyes meet by chance—for an instant. I don’t know which of us looked away first.

  I grimace.

  “Yes,” I say, my mouth dry. “I think so. Yes.”

  She frowns uncertainly, but she passes me the cup.

  We walk for several minutes. We’re quiet. Small fireworks go off throughout the neighborhood, but most households have turned in for the night, and, as we walk, we pass more homes still under construction. More empty lots with For Sale signs on the curb.

  We’re already in the unfinished subdivision? How long have we been walking?

  BANG!

  A shower of multicolored sparks blooms in my periphery from a large firework like the ones we’re off to launch ourselves.

  And Rose comes to mind.

  It’s late. She hasn’t texted me since early this afternoon. I’m sure she had fun spending time with her family, though.

  What is she doing now?

  I reach for my phone—but it’s not there. The pockets of my jean shorts are empty. I check my bra. I even check the large pockets of the ove
rsized coat. Still no phone.

  I stop walking. “Shoot.”

  The others stop when they realize I’m not moving. Night, only a couple steps ahead, turns to check on me.

  “You okay?” she asks.

  I point toward the dimly lit area off in the distance. “That’s the cul-de-sac you guys were talking about, right?”

  “Yes, that’s it... But what’s wrong?”

  Behind her, Ice and Smoke watch us. I can’t make out Ice’s face in the low light from this distance, but the memory of my lips pressed against his and the scent of lemon and vodka haunts me. The nausea returns.

  “I need my phone,” I say. “I promised to text Rose. And record the fireworks. Um...”

  Taking a few steps closer, Ice crosses his arms over his chest. “This can’t wait? You need your phone now?”

  “Yes!” I nod with enough vigor to spur a headache. “But I— I can get it. I’ll be right back.”

  Night frowns, brows furrowed. She glances over her shoulder. At Ice. At the glass in my hand. At me. And her frown deepens.

  “You can borrow my phone to take a video,” she says. “Or, if you really need yours, I don’t mind going with you.”

  The wave of nausea passes. I’m once again more bubbly than sick, as the prospect of having some space floods me with relief. But it’s not a big deal. She’s worried over nothing.

  I smile. “No, it’s fine! It’ll only take me a minute.”

  Ice, still several paces ahead is not convinced. He doesn’t want me to walk back to the house alone. Will he stop me? Does he think I can’t handle it? His arms fall to his side, and his mouth opens like he wants to argue, but he sighs instead.

  “I will come find you if you’re gone too long,” he says.

  “Of course!”

  Arms still crossed, his expression darkens. “I’m serious, Jayde. You have thirty minutes.”

  “Okay, thirty minutes,” I agree, raising my free hand. “Hold off on the fireworks until I get back, okay? Can’t wait to see them!”

  With that, I offer the group a small wave, turn one hundred eighty degrees, and take off. I half-jog down the street, still holding the glass of spiked lemonade. The liquid sloshes, threatening to spill over the rim. Somehow, I lose very little of my drink, but I only last a minute—around a single bend in the road—before my side aches, and I slow to a walk.