Something in the Way: A Forbidden Love Saga: The Complete Collection

by Hawkins, Jessica

  I left them in the hallway and headed outside. The sun was beginning to sink into late afternoon, turning the sky orange. The students I’d seen earlier were lying on their backs on the lawn as a bearded man wove through the maze of mats. Each had one hand on their stomach and the other on their chest.

  “We’ll begin each session by consulting with our bodies,” he said. “Breathe from your diaphragm. Don’t know how? The hand on your stomach should rise higher than the one on your chest. Inhale. Keep your eyes closed.” He looked at me. “Now, exhale for eight counts and expel everything from your body that doesn’t belong in this class.” He looked around, nodding. “Just breathe. Your life depends on it. So does your grade.”

  A few people laughed. I’d gotten closer than I’d meant, but they looked so at peace.

  “Want to join?”

  I blinked up at the man. “Sorry?”

  “We have space.”

  It didn’t look that way. They’d created two even rows. “There aren’t any mats left.”

  “Do you need one?”

  I hadn’t thought of that. I could just sit in the grass. “No, but I’m waiting for my . . .” I stopped myself from saying Dad. These were college students. They’d left home already. “My ride.”

  “So lie down until then.” He gestured to the end of one row.

  It was tempting. It seemed as though my mind had been going since I’d met Manning, wondering about him, or about little things like what books I really wanted to read or how I could get to Tower Records to buy a Pink Floyd CD. I, too, wanted to sink into the lawn and turn my brain off, send my problems into the air like balloons. With no sign of my dad, I lay down on the ground.

  “We’ll stay in this position for sixty seconds. You have a lot of responsibilities as students, friends, children, siblings. Don’t be afraid to think about nothing for a change. Clear your mind.”

  It was easier said than done. My mind wandered over to the business school, and then to how Manning had asked for a list of my interests. What were those, though? I did well in math, but did I want to do it for a living? I couldn’t imagine anyone did. Making people feel better appealed to me, but things like blood and surgery and medical charts didn’t. I liked reading and cooking for other people. I’d been a camp counselor last year and student council treasurer of my sophomore class. None of that really added up to a profession I could think of, though. Maybe Manning would know once he saw the list.

  “You can sit up now,” the man said.

  I opened my eyes as a breeze rustled the leaves of nearby trees. Despite being on a busy college campus, our spot on the lawn was quiet. I got up slowly, blinking to adjust to the sun. I scratched my elbow, itchy from the grass. Everyone was smiling.

  “Welcome to the summer session of Drama 101.” He looked at me. “I’m Professor Bronstein, but you can call me Sal.”

  I checked over my shoulder. My dad was outside the building but still talking to the assistant professor.

  “We’ll meet out here before class from now on. Once we enter the classroom, you have two jobs. To become the part you’re playing, and to support one another. At times, you’ll feel foolish—I guarantee it. You’ll also feel triumphant, and some other stuff in between. Trusting your classmates will go a long way when it comes to getting the most out of this experience.”

  “But we just met, and summer session only lasts a few weeks,” someone pointed out.

  “Precisely. We have a small amount of time to earn each other’s trust, so let’s begin with an exercise. Turn to face the person next to you.”

  Still deep in conversation, my dad didn’t seem to notice I wasn’t there. Since I was at the end of the row, I could only go one way. I sat cross-legged facing a dark-haired girl. “Hi,” she said softly. “I’m Les.”

  “I’m not actually in this—”

  “Now,” Sal said, “close your eyes and touch your partner’s face.”

  Les looked as surprised as I felt. I’d met her two seconds ago, and now I had to put my hands on her? It felt like an intrusion. Neither of us moved. She stifled a laugh.

  “Where?” someone asked. “How?”

  “You already have all the instructions I intend to give,” the professor answered.

  Les and I exchanged a sheepish look before I closed my eyes.

  A cold finger landed on my cheek. Les giggled. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t speak,” Sal said.

  It was even more uncomfortable not being able to laugh about it. I placed my palm on Les’s face, and it warmed to her cheek. I had to stop myself from also apologizing.

  “Good,” the professor said. “Try to read your partner this way. Tune into their emotions.”

  “Lake?” I heard from somewhere behind me.

  “You’re nervous,” Les said.

  “What?”

  “You just jumped.”

  “I-I have to go.” We both opened our eyes. I stood, brushing grass off my legs, and announced, “My ride is here.”

  Sal nodded. “See you around, then.”

  I waved to get my dad’s attention as I jogged toward him. The blonde was nowhere to be seen. “What were you doing?” he asked, picking a twig from my hair.

  “They invited me to join a class.” Maybe acting was something I could add to the list for Manning. I’d only been interested in it five minutes, but considering I had no clue what else to put on there, it was worth a try. “Maybe I’ll sign up for it as a freshman.”

  “Which class?”

  “Drama.”

  He snorted and turned for the parking area. I hurried to keep up. “I never understood why that department was so important here. It’s silly, but I suppose not everyone can be gifted enough to do the things that really matter.”

  That was as good of an opening as I was going to get. I scratched my head. “Um, Dad, you know . . . if drama’s a big deal here, they might like to see it on my application.”

  “Possibly.”

  “Maybe I could start looking into it now. Either at school or as, like, an extracurricular.”

  “Hmm.” He put his hands in his pockets. “You do need to choose some electives next year. It could round out your schedule a bit.”

  I didn’t know what to say other than “thanks.” It was rare to get what I wanted if it wasn’t his idea. Tiffany and my mom, on the other hand, got what they wanted frequently. Maybe he was finally starting to see me as an adult.

  It was a win in my book.

  8

  Lake

  Now this was what summer was all about.

  At ten-thirty on the Thursday morning following our night at the fair, I lay on a beach towel on the south side of Huntington Pier with my friends. It was early, but beach real estate in August was valuable.

  Normally, I applied a lot of sunscreen since I burned easily. Tanning was an art I had yet to perfect. Tiffany had my same complexion and she’d gotten it down to a science. She wanted to be tan three-hundred-and-sixty-five days a year. Tonight, though, Manning was coming over for dinner. He’d be at the house in about nine hours.

  I applied sunscreen to my face and chest only. Vickie, on the towel next to mine, only used tanning oil. “Can I borrow some?” I asked when she’d finished with it.

  She handed it over. “You missed a crazy party Saturday night.”

  “I was there,” I said.

  Mona, on the other side of Vickie, sat up on her elbows. She looked at me over her sunglasses. “You were not.”

  “I was outside for a minute.” I squirted oil onto my legs, wedging my fingers under the elastic leg of my one-piece to even it out. “It didn’t look like much fun.”

  “Are you kidding?” Vickie asked. “Everyone was there. We tried rum and played drinking games.”

  Not everyone, I wanted to say. Corbin Swenson popped into my mind. I scanned the surfers bobbing on their boards in the water, but they were too far for me to recognize faces. “I went to Balboa Park,” I said. Since they looked u
p to my sister for some reason, I added, “With Tiffany. She says high school parties are lame.”

  “Of course they are—to her,” Vickie said. “She’s not in high school.”

  Mona drew her eyebrows together. “Maybe they are lame.”

  “Oh, did you hear?” Vickie asked excitedly. “Kim left the party with Jack Firestone, and I guess they were sitting outside in his car for, like, ever.”

  I gave Vickie back her oil, lay down on my towel, and picked up my book. I read two paragraphs before my mind wandered. Jack Firestone had graduated with Tiffany. Kim was my age. They’d probably had sex. I doubted nineteen-year-olds sat in parked cars with virgins.

  As if the sun were a heat lamp directed at me, sweat beaded on my upper lip. I liked to think I was above sex, that I had more important things to worry about. That I’d have no trouble holding on to my virginity long after my friends had caved. But last night, I’d dreamed about Manning, about his big hands around my waist, and his dark, humorless eyes that sometimes weren’t so humorless around me. I’d woken up in the middle of the night and masturbated. I’d never done it thinking about someone I knew.

  All morning, the thought of Manning had come with a tightening in my belly. And it wasn’t weird or bad or shameful. The opposite, actually. I liked it.

  When water droplets fell onto my shins, I put down my book. Someone stood over me, silhouetted by the sun.

  “Hey, girls.” I recognized Corbin’s voice. “What’s up, Lake?”

  Vickie and Mona stayed quiet. I doubted either of them had ever spoken to a Swenson. I lowered my sunglasses. Corbin held a surfboard under one arm. “Hi,” I said.

  “You see me out there?” he asked.

  “I think so. I wasn’t sure which one you were.”

  “The handsome one, obviously,” he said, peeling down the sleeves of his wetsuit. He pushed it down to his waist. Between surfing and baseball, sports had done him well. He wasn’t buff, but his muscles were cut, defined, and his skin golden-brown like his hair.

  “What’re you guys up to?” he asked.

  “Just this.” I waited for Vickie or Mona to jump in, but they just mutely stared at Corbin. “You?” I asked.

  “It was a late surf today. Summer vacation and all.”

  He laid his short, cream surfboard upside down in the sand. The underside had a sticker of a frog smoking weed and 420 in graffiti. He shook out his hair, showering me in ocean droplets.

  “How was it?” I asked.

  “Decent.” When he glanced at my chest, I realized my nipples were hard from the cold water. Turning to the other girls, he said, “I’m Corbin, by the way.”

  “Hi,” Vickie said.

  “Hi,” Mona repeated.

  I could see we weren’t going to get much else, so I said, “These are my friends, Vickie and Mona.”

  “Cool.” He nodded at me. “Wanna take my board out?”

  Remembering my fib about my surfing experience, I hoped my sunglasses hid my blush. “I’m working on my tan.”

  “You got a hot date tonight?” he asked.

  “No,” I said, almost defensively.

  “You want one?”

  Mona gasped and Vickie giggled nervously, looking from Mona to me to Corbin and back again.

  I studied Corbin, trying to tell if he was joking around. He grinned pretty hard but waited for an answer. If one of the most popular guys in school was asking me out, I’d be an idiot to say no, but I didn’t feel that tightening in my stomach like I did for Manning.

  Corbin squatted next to me. “Come over tonight. Watch a movie.”

  He really was as good-looking as everyone said and surprisingly nice, too. All last year, he and his circle of friends had seemed larger than life, but sitting right next to him, all I could think was how different he was from Manning. Corbin was golden, sunny. Manning was dark, shaded. Despite the fact that Corbin looked strong and healthy, Manning still dwarfed him, maybe because Manning’s presence was even larger than his body. But even if Corbin were dark and large and sexy like Manning, I’d still say no. I wouldn’t miss tonight’s dinner for anyone. I never knew when I’d get time with Manning.

  “I can’t,” I said. “Sorry.”

  He smiled crookedly. “Another time then.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll give you a call. Cane has Tiffany’s number.” He stood, picked up his board, and flashed us a wave. “Nice to meet you, girls. Lake . . . I’ll see you at camp, if not before.”

  “Later.”

  Once he’d walked away, Vickie pinched my elbow.

  I yanked my arm away. “Ow. What was that for?”

  “Since when do you know Corbin Swenson?”

  “Since when do you turn down Corbin Swenson?” Mona added.

  I rubbed my arm. “I met him the other night at the Fun Zone.”

  “But I saw him at the party.”

  “He must’ve done both,” I said. “Not so dorky now, am I?”

  “Um, yes,” Vickie said. “You are. Because you said no to a date with a Swenson!”

  The girls giggled, and I couldn’t help from joining in. “They’re just people, not gods.”

  “Did you not see him with his shirt off?” Mona asked. “You’re mental.”

  “We’re having a family dinner tonight.” It was the truth, and it was better than the real reason I’d said no to Corbin: I’d rather spend my evening with an older construction worker.

  “But you didn’t just turn him down—you totally blew him off. You could’ve said you were free tomorrow or the next night.”

  Vickie rolled her eyes. “This is why you’re single, Mona. Lake’s playing hard to get.”

  “She doesn’t know how to do that,” Mona said. “She doesn’t even wear makeup.”

  I rose onto my elbows. At some point, everyone I knew had started wearing makeup, as if they’d all gone and taken a course on it without me. I guessed that had to do with looking sexy. Up until now, I’d had little interest and even less knowledge in attracting boys at school. They tried to get away with dumb things like looking up our skirts or chewing gum in class. Most of them cared more about videogames or sports than learning anything of value. “What’s that got to do with it?”

  “Just that you don’t care about these things,” Vickie said. “You’re what we call, a late bloomer.”

  Mona laughed like it was some kind of inside joke. “Maybe she’s not so late if she’s catching Corbin’s eye. Or maybe she was just born with it. Like, it runs in her family.”

  It was ridiculous enough that I almost went back to my book, but then again, it wasn’t entirely off base. My dad liked to brag about how he’d beaten out lots of other suitors for my mom’s attention. I didn’t doubt it. My mom was Miss Orange County when she was younger and had competed to be Miss California. I saw the way men looked at her in the supermarket, the way my male teachers paid attention when she came to parent night. Mom commanded nearly as much male attention as Tiffany did. If there were a gene for that, Tiffany definitely had it—and she’d gotten it from my mom. Maybe I had it, too—though it might be dormant.

  It was late afternoon by the time I got home from the beach. I dropped my towel and bag by the base of the stairs. “Mom?” I called.

  “In the kitchen.”

  I found her looking in the oven. “How’s it going?”

  “Right on schedule.” She stood up and eased the door shut. “I might need an extra set of hands later, though.”

  She never asked Tiffany, who had no interest, for help in the kitchen. When I didn’t have schoolwork to do, I usually enjoyed cooking with my mom, and tonight would be even more special. “I just need to shower.”

  “How was the beach?” she asked. “You got a tan.”

  “Did I?” I inspected my arm. It looked a little red to me. “It was fun. We got milkshakes at the end of the pier after.”

  She smiled. “Hope you left room for pie.”

  I hadn’t forgotten. Last ni
ght, Mom had walked me through making a pie for tonight. I couldn’t wait to see Manning’s reaction. “I’ll come help when I’m ready,” I said.

  I went up to the bathroom and turned on the shower. I pushed my regular products aside. Tiffany hid her expensive shampoo and conditioner on the back of the shelf, even though she warned me all the time not to use them, and I never once had . . . until today.

  After carefully reading the instructions on the back, I washed my hair twice. Then, I saturated it with conditioner and shaved my legs slowly, carefully, from ankle to upper thigh. After rinsing and toweling off, I used one of Tiffany’s lotions.

  I’d never felt so soft and silky. I picked a sundress to show off my smooth skin. Tiffany said having a tan made you look thinner, and she was right.

  After checking the hall to make sure Tiffany wasn’t around, I went into her makeup drawer. I’d burned. Not badly, but my face and shoulders were pink. The sun had also darkened the smattering of freckles across my nose and cheeks. I didn’t trust myself with makeup, so I kept it simple with just mascara and pink lip gloss. Despite the redness, or maybe because of it, my eyes seemed bluer. My teeth whiter. And for once, I saw what others did.

  I looked like Tiffany.

  * * *

  After washing basil and slicing tomatoes and Mozzarella, I prepared five Caprese salads. Not knowing which would go to Manning, I took extra care to drizzle the olive oil and balsamic vinegar evenly.

  “Where is Tiffany?” Mom asked.

  I didn’t look up. Didn’t want to lose focus. “Maybe she changed her mind about him. She does that.”

  “I hope she would’ve told someone. At least him. Otherwise, we’re in for an uncomfortable dinner.”

  I smiled. “Manning’s easy to get along with. It won’t be uncomfortable.”

  The front door opened, and Tiffany breezed into the house with paper shopping bags on each arm. “Manning will be here any minute. Is dinner ready?”