The Art of Second Chances

by Coleen Patrick

  A priest is called in to help after a girl eats a moldy batch of deviled eggs, I texted to Zac. My ridiculous plot reduction of The Exorcist wasn’t as good as Zac’s, but still. I wanted to continue the fun. And okay, maybe there was a little claim staking happening.

  Jenny moved to the center of the café and looked around. I did a quick perusal of the store, trying to see it with fresh eyes. The chalkboard with specials, the ocean mural I did last summer, Joy’s handwriting on the sign for Zen’s free sample platter: Take our piece offering. The glass case with what was left of my mom’s famous vegan pastries. My mom started with a home based catering business. Eventually, she bought what used to be the old record store and opened Zen at the start of my freshman year. She still did a lot of catering, but the shop also offered smoothies, panini, and, of course, her baked goods. She even shipped her vegan cheesy bread all over the country. I felt proud. Zen really was my mom’s peace offering to the world.

  “Nice place,” Jenny said. “I think I was in here once after you opened. It’s great. Homey.”

  My shoulders lowered and the ends of my fingers tingled like my entire body had fallen asleep while I’d held my defensive, possessive stance. Why was it I always went straight into crisis mode whenever I felt remotely threatened? I didn’t know. But I probably could have considered a career with Homeland Security.

  “Thanks. So, can I get you a smoothie or something?” I picked up the blender container. I needed to finish cleaning up before Zac got there.

  “No thanks.” Jenny sat at a table, scrolling through her phone as I finished washing the blender and wiping down the counters. Then she even helped me flip the chairs onto the tables. And just like that, I took back my earlier judgment. Jenny was really simply a nice person helping Zac out with his scholarship portfolio.

  After I mopped the floor, headlights swept across the walls in Zen.

  Zac.

  Jenny went outside, and I scurried to the back and did a quick check of myself in the tiny bathroom mirror, pulling my hair out of its ponytail, then deciding it was better off tied up. I checked my teeth, pinched my cheeks, and popped a breath mint into my mouth. It would have to do until I got home. Then I could shower and brush my teeth before the movie.

  I left the bathroom, switched off the lights, and locked up Zen.

  Outside, Zac stood by his truck, fiddling with his keys. He gave me a quick kiss. Hopefully, I didn’t smell like soy cheese.

  “Hey,” he whispered.

  “Hey yourself.” I rose to my toes and bounced a bit. I couldn’t help it. I was happy that the rest of my night was just going to be about us.

  Only Zac didn’t move from in front of the passenger door. Instead, he opened the half door to the very small back seat of his truck’s cab.

  I stared at him and Zac offered me a slightly pained expression as he nodded toward the passenger door.

  Jenny was in my seat.

  It was okay. Really. She got there first. Did I expect Zac would say, I’m sorry that seat is reserved for my girlfriend? No. It wasn’t like we were embarking on an all-night road trip. We lived a mile from Maple Avenue.

  Besides, age before beauty, as my Grandpa Walt used to say.

  Although, it was weird that she sat in the front. I’d informed her in no uncertain terms of my girlfriend status. Unless she did it without thinking. After all, I was doing enough thinking for all three of us.

  Yeah, probably that one.

  I slid into the back and Zac shut the door. The entire cab smelled like Mexico Palace’s refried beans, cancelling out my potential soy cheese scent and Jenny’s tropical aroma.

  Phew.

  “So, Jenny, where are you staying while you’re in town?”

  “At Zac’s.” She touched his arm as he slid into his seat. “I was supposed to stay with Hannah Murdock—you probably know her little sister, Maddy? But then she told me her family is going to the beach for break.”

  My stomach bottomed out as Jenny explained why she was now sleeping with my boyfriend—er at his house. Plus, I felt suddenly young and immature hearing her call Maddy “Hannah’s little sister”. Maddy was my age.

  How was it Zac’s mom agreed to Jenny staying in their house when Mrs. Anderson wouldn’t be there? She didn’t even let Zac and me watch a movie in his room alone—only in the family room. Where was Jenny going to sleep? Lily’s room? That was right across the hall from Zac’s.

  This was a nightmare.

  Zac glanced at me in the mirror as he drove away from Zen. He looked like he had something to say. He’d better. He had some explaining to do. A gorgeous eighteen-year-old Columbia bound senior that he once kind of dated would be sleeping across the hall from him in an otherwise empty house?

  Was movie night still happening? Was Jenny going to sit between us on the couch?

  Zac parked in my driveway and jumped out to open my door. Once we were at my front door he said, “I’m sorry, Pinks. She literally sprung this whole staying at my house thing on me tonight. I had no idea.”

  “But she said she knew two days ago.”

  Zac rubbed a hand over his face. “Well, she didn’t tell me until she called from Zen. Maybe she thought she could find somewhere else to stay.”

  “Or she wanted to make sure you would say yes, because it’s last minute and all.”

  “I didn’t say yes, my mom did. Who knew my mom would actually agree to it? Apparently, she remembered Jenny or something. She likes her, I guess. I don’t know. She’s not worried, not like she gets with you and me.” He grabbed me by my waist.

  I closed my eyes, feeling his lips brush softly on mine.

  “Because you and me, we can’t be trusted to be alone.”

  “Hmm,” I said, feeling the tiniest bit unconvinced. I glanced at the truck. I could only see Jenny’s hair (so shiny). The tree next to my porch blocked my view. It still seemed like Jenny engineered her stay at Zac’s house, but for what reason I didn’t know (and I didn’t know if I could trust my paranoid mind). She acted far too sophisticated to be going after a guy who was a year younger than her and didn’t live in, for all intents and purposes, Georgetown.

  “I still want you to come over,” he said.

  “I hope so.” I leaned in for a quick kiss. “I’m just going to jump in the shower first.”

  Zac raised his eyebrows, and, in a flash, my face went hot. I punched him playfully, then moved to my porch. Zac waited as I unlocked the door. As soon as I got in, he jogged back to his truck.

  Back to Jenny.

  I showered extra fast, washing away mushroom panini and tapioca cheese, dousing myself with a soapy gel that promised I’d be smelling like a summer breeze. Eau du Irresistible Girlfriend.

  Then, after wrapping myself in a big sea blue towel, I called Chloe.

  “Jenny Oliver. Tell me everything you know.”

  “Not this again, Grace.” Chloe yawned into my ear. “I’m trying to watch The Notebook.”

  “The Notebook? Why? You hate sappy romantic movies. What happened to Law and Order?” Chloe had seen every episode of the original, and the spin-offs. She fell asleep to the repeats every night. Surprisingly, she never had nightmares.

  “It’s for research,” she said, sounding like she was waking up. “Alzheimer’s. Remember the internship at the nursing home I’m doing this summer?”

  “Right.” I felt a little out of sorts until I remembered why I felt that way. “Jenny Oliver is staying at Zac’s house. Sleeping right across the hall from him.”

  “Why?”

  “Her BFF Hannah Murdock decided to go out of town with her family.”

  “No surprise. Maddy’s family has a house in the Outer Banks.”

  “So why did she say she planned to stay with Hannah all week?” I tugged my favorite pair of shorts from the bottom of the stack of clothes I’d folded that morning. The pile slumped.

  “I guess there’s the possibility that Hannah wasn’t going to go with her parents and sister, then
changed her mind last minute.”

  “Maybe.” I logged into my computer and zeroed in on Hannah and Maddy’s social media accounts. As if I’d find some answer, or clue.

  “Grace, why would she want to purposefully spend her spring break here other than for the purposes of this journalism scholarship thing?”

  Hopefully, not for the same reasons I might have wanted to.

  “You’re right.” I closed my laptop. I hated being paranoid. Jenny was doing Zac a favor. It was a nice, friend thing to do.

  “So you want to come over and watch this movie with me?”

  “Are you kidding? I’m going over to watch a movie with Zac. Like we planned.”

  “Right, right. Stake your claim and all.”

  I was silent.

  “I’m joking, Grace. Chill. Seriously, we’re doing a spa day when we get to the beach.”

  “Okay.” I stared out at Zac’s. His house glowed as if every light was on. No mood lighting. That was a good thing.

  “Girls rule. That’s going to be our motto. We’re not going to even think about boys or love or any of that.”

  “You’re getting off to a good start with your sappy movie there, Chlo.”

  “It’s for research. Besides, I also got a couple of road trip movies in anticipation for tomorrow.”

  “Alright. Cool. Have fun. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Ten o’clock, your house. I’ll be there.”

  Chapter 6

  Shipwrecked on a Starry Night (Without Balls), Acrylic on Canvas

  Movie night turned retro, like the days when I was ten and Zac was eleven. Or like the movie nights when Lily, or Zac’s mom, joined us in the family room. No alone time, no cuddling, and definitely no kissing.

  Jenny sat on the recliner, kitty-corner to the couch, tapping away at her phone. She was quiet but far too distracting. Would she be distracting for Zac once I was in Nags Head?

  I sighed.

  Obviously out loud, because Zac’s arm, the one around me, squeezed.

  “What’s wrong?” he whispered in my ear. “Don’t like the movie?”

  I shrugged, staring at the screen. The guy stranded on the island was now running across the moonlit beach in full beard and straggly hair, screaming for his deflated volleyball. He was losing it.

  And so was I.

  I managed a small smile, but it wasn’t easy. My I’m-going-to-be-a-secure-supportive-girlfriend mask was slipping. Barely a fiber of the easy, breezy facade remained.

  Because I couldn’t stop feeling like everything was ruined due to shiny, fragrant, big, um, hearted Jenny. How was it my plans changed from carefree, vacation fun, to leaving my boyfriend sleeping in the house alone with Jenny? Even our date night was no longer a date night.

  I got up from the couch, mumbling something about the bathroom and walked out of the room. I stumbled over one of Bunty’s (the Anderson’s golden retriever) chew toys, mirroring the action on the TV. I was a desperate island survivor man picking his way over driftwood and shells to get to his lifeline. His psycho crutch.

  But I didn’t go to the bathroom, or hunting for a volleyball. Instead, I stood in the kitchen near the back door. Part of me wanted to leave, but a bigger part of me wanted to set up camp in the middle of Zac’s hallway. I envisioned myself unrolling a sleeping bag right in front of his bedroom door and the one Jenny would be sleeping in.

  I couldn’t help it. I was crazy jealous.

  It was more than a little embarrassing, but how could I stop these feelings? Where was a volleyball to rant to when you needed one?

  I opened the back door quietly and slipped out. The early spring air was warm, and I smelled honeysuckle. I closed my eyes, feeling the heat tuck around me.

  I settled on the top step. I thought about the day last summer when I fell and twisted my ankle and how Zac carried me to his house for movie night—and then later, our crazy, first kiss. The kiss that started us.

  The door creaked behind me. Zac sat next to me. “You okay?”

  “I was thinking about the night we watched Lord of the Rings,” I said with a half laugh.

  “What? Why are you laughing when you say that? That was the night of our first kiss.”

  I nodded, glad that he seemed fine with the sentimental subject of our origins as a couple. I wanted us to be okay. The whole night was kind of a disaster. “Hey do you realize Castaway is like the same plot? Both are essentially a really long journey just to deliver a package.”

  “Very true. By the way, great one liner for The Exorcist.”

  “Thanks. High praise coming from a wordsmith guy.” I bumped my shoulder against his. “Speaking of one liners, what was the shark movie?”

  “Jaws in reverse.”

  “Reverse? Wow. Way to throw a twist into the game.”

  Then we got quiet. Somewhere nearby, a car alarm chirped. I didn’t know what Zac was thinking, but twists were on my mind. Specifically Jenny Oliver.

  Jenny Twist, a girl who pickpockets other people’s boyfriends (more, please). That plot reduction stayed in my head. Where it belonged.

  Zac’s hand reached for one of mine. “Sorry movie night got messed up. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

  “Oh yeah?” So we were on the same wavelength. Hope scrambled past the slippery, mossy darkness that had set up in my middle.

  Zac kissed me, softly at first, then deeper, moving both hands to my face.

  When he finally pulled away, my body instinctively leaned toward his.

  His thumb brushed against my lips. “I should go back inside, Pinks.”

  My happy hope bubble slipped at the reminder that Jenny was waiting in his family room, sliding away from the progress it had made, retreating back into the swampy funk of darkness.

  “Wouldn’t want Jenny to feel weird or anything,” I said, knowing how annoyed I sounded. “Not like asking to stay at your house was.”

  “Grace, I told you. Her plans fell through.”

  “So she says. The Murdock’s go to the Outer Banks every summer.”

  Zac groaned. “Why would she lie, Grace? Why does it even matter if she stays here or not? I still have to stay home either way. She’s here to help me out. She’s on the same path I’m trying to get on. We’re friends.”

  “Friends. See, that’s the weird part. How come I didn’t know you were friends?”

  “What does that even mean? He took out his phone. Do you need to see a list or something? Does everyone need clearance from you?”

  I swallowed. A humongous lump set up in my throat. “No, but you used to date.”

  “Used to.”

  My stomach dropped. So it was more than prom. I got up and stepped down from his porch. I faced him, swiping an angry hand through my hair, getting a whiff of my shampoo. My Irresistible Girlfriend scent now had an air of desperate. “I just find this whole thing weird.”

  Zac stood, too, only now he towered over me. “Why? Because a friend, who happens to be a girl, is doing me a favor? Why are you acting like this? You’re my best friend and my girlfriend. You know what you sound like?”

  Jealous. I didn’t want to say it, so I avoided his gaze, instead staring at his shoes. They looked suede, but I couldn’t be sure in the dark. Either way, I’d never seen them before.

  “You sound like Lily when she doesn’t get her way. Like a spoiled brat.”

  I winced. I had been here before. In Zac’s backyard feeling stupid. Back when I thought I’d made a mistake, after our first kiss.

  Because if I was being truthful, that kiss was cringe worthy. Sure, our relationship changed after that, blossomed, but it wasn’t an epic fantasy in the beginning. Because before the euphoria, there was humiliation and the feeling that I’d ruined our friendship. If I were being real, our first kiss was really a mistake, followed by a lot of scary assumptions, like freaky elves hulking in dark shadows.

  Right now though, Zac was the one who didn’t seem real. Something was off. I wasn’t acting lik
e a spoiled brat. I was standing up for our relationship. Someone had to, because I still felt like Zac made the wrong call. He agreed to our spring break and cancelled last minute. For what?

  For school? Okay, so college and scholarships and all that stuff were important, but he had time. Maybe not as much time as I had considering I was a year behind him, but why was he putting everything, except for the few measly Saturday night hours he spent with me, into school?

  Why was it that I felt like he pushed aside our plans, pushed aside us, so easily? Wasn’t there some sort of happy medium—a better way? Or was I a spoiled brat? I didn’t know.

  Disappointing me was probably the easier choice, but it sucked feeling like I wasn’t the better offer. Even if it was probably easy for Zac simply because he’d known me since, well forever. We were friends first, and that friendship made it easy for him to think I wouldn’t mind the interruption, the inconvenience. I guess Zac assumed I would always be here. I was the sure thing that would always be waiting in the house behind his.

  It made me think of my mom. How my dad seemed to toy with her—call her up, make her feel things were better, and, inevitably, change his mind again.

  How did my mom handle it? It sucked not being a priority.

  As it turned out, Zac had made a perfect movie choice tonight, because I literally felt cast away.

  I moved off the porch.

  “Grace, come on,” he said.

  I kept on walking, through his gate, between the fences where we used to play when we were kids, and through the hole in my fence into my own yard.

  I hesitated, wanting to run back and make the discomfort go away, but then again, I felt kind of used. I wasn’t sure what the protocol was in this case, wasn’t sure of the rules. Zac and I had been best friends forever, but only boyfriend and girlfriend for five months, less if you counted the actual amount of time we’d spent together recently. This new relationship was uncharted territory for us. Plus, I was clueless how it all was supposed to go.