by Amy Sparling
My legs drop out from under me, stopping the porch swing. I sit rigid, holding my fork with my food in my lap, hoping that I won't be noticed. The car's window rolls down as the tires slow to a crawl on the gravel road. I swallow. I should run inside the house, lock the door and close the windows, but I'm paralyzed on the porch swing.
The car turns into the driveway and parks at the end of it, near the mailbox. Ian steps out. I close the lid on my Chinese takeout box and stand up on wobbly knees.
Ian throws his arms open wide. "There she is!"
I step off the porch, glancing around even though I know we're alone. Ian's wearing a tight black shirt and ripped up jeans. His hair hangs in his eyes and his smile is exactly the way I remember it.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, holding the container of food in front of me as a barrier between him.
He puts a hand to his chest as if he's hurt. "I missed you. I couldn't wait all summer to see you."
"How did you know where I live?" I ask.
He runs a hand through his hair. "Well, uh, you posted what town you were in on Facebook. In case you didn't know, Salt Gap has a population of two hundred and fourteen.
Geez, Bayleigh I thought you'd be happy to see me."
"So did you just drive around until you found me? What if I hadn't been outside?"
Ian shakes his head in frustration. "Why do you have to question everything like I'm some kind of dumbass? No, I didn't fucking drive around. I used a phone book. There's only one person with your last name in this town and that's where I drove." He lets out an obnoxious sigh. "But since you're ungrateful as shit about me driving out here then maybe I should just go home."
Tears swell up in my eyes as Ian yells at me. I didn't mean to annoy him. "I'm sorry," I say. "I'm just surprised." I glance toward Jace's empty house for a second and then back at Ian. His brows draw together and he turns around, trying to find what I was looking at before turning back to me. His arms open wide. "Can I get a hug?"
I draw in a deep breath and walk into his open arms. Images of that girl in his Facebook photos flicker across my mind and I use them as reinforcement that I should not accept him back. He wraps his arms around me and hugs me tightly, exactly how he used to. I can't believe it hurts so much. Ian was everything to me a couple weeks ago.
Maybe he still can be.
Chapter 16
Ian's hands have this magical tendency to grab parts of my body even though I keep shoving him off. We sit on the porch swing for an hour and I only allow Ian to go inside to use the bathroom. I told him I can't risk pissing off my grandparents by having some strange guy in their house when they get home, and for once, he's not being an asshole about it.
"You're still avoiding that question I asked you," I say with an innocent tone as I poke him in the rib cage. His arm tightens around my shoulder and he leans in closer to me.
"So many questions," he says with a roll of his eyes. "Let's just be happy we're together."
Hating Ian was a lot easier when he was still back at home and I was stuck here. Now that he's right in front of me, with all his gorgeousness just smacking me in the face, it's really hard to remember why I hated him.
But it doesn't take much to make me remember that blonde girl. I square my shoulders, and speak quickly before I chicken out. "Becca said some girl added you as being in a relationship with her on Facebook."
He gives me a dismissive roll of his eyes. I pull his arm off me and place it back in his lap. "I'm serious. I want to know who she is and why I'm supposed to trust you again."
Headlights turn down our road, sending a shriek of panic through my chest. Grandma and Grandpa aren't supposed to be home this early—I'll have to make sure I tell them my made up plan exactly as I rehearsed: My best friend is in the hospital and our mutual friend Ian drove over here to tell me about it.
The car's lights don't slow down near our driveway though. They keep going and turn into Jace's house. My anxiety morphs into another form of panic. Only this one isn't so bad.
It's dark outside and Jace can't see us on the porch since I kept the light off. His car comes to a stop and he gets out, then walks over to the passenger side to retrieve something from the front seat.
Ian's hand touches my cheek, gently pulling me back to face him. "I want you to forget about all that stuff, babe." He goes in for a kiss, but I turn slightly and he gets my cheek instead. I have no butterflies with Ian this close to me. I always had butterflies before.
"What the hell, Bayleigh?" He pulls back with a look of disgust. "I drive all the way out here and I don't even get a kiss?"
"Shh," I hiss, trying to shush him from talking so loudly. The last thing I need is for Jace to walk over here. "I'm just having a hard time accepting that I should forget about that girl.
That's all."
Ian throws himself off the porch swing and punches a wooden wall post. "You need to learn to let shit go. I got over everything bad about you."
"What's bad about me?" I ask, forgetting to keep my voice quiet.
He counts off on his fingers. "Your mean as shit mother, your constant knack for getting grounded, you never put out, you are completely jealous of some bitch on Facebook," he points to this thumb but then stops midsentence. "Who the fuck is that?"
I jump off the porch swing and spin around to find Jace crossing the yard, coming straight toward us. His car keys jingle in his hand until he slides them in his pocket. His other hand holds a long stem pink rose with the stem wrapped in white ribbons. My stomach twists in knots. He probably heard everything.
What am I going to do?
"Bro, this has nothing to do with you," Ian calls out when Jace is only a few steps away from the porch.
He steps onto the porch. "It is my business if you're yelling at Bayleigh."
My cheeks flush and my heart feels like it's going to burst right out of my ribcage.
"Like hell it is," Ian growls. Jace takes a step forward, his eyes glaring at Ian as he approaches me. He holds out the rose to me. "For you," he says with a smile. With a shaky hand, I reach out and take the flower. Our eyes meet and he winks at me.
Ian shifts on his feet, looking like he's about to explode. "What the fuck is this? You're gone two weeks and you replace me with this dipshit?"
"I'm guessing you're Ian," Jace says.
Ian glares at me. "If you know who I am then you know you need to leave now."
Jace shoves his hands in his pockets and leans against the wall, making it clear he has no intention of leaving. "If you'd like directions back to the interstate, I'd be happy to help you out."
"I'm not going anywhere."
Jace lifts an eyebrow. "I'm afraid you are."
Ian grabs my arm and pulls me across the porch and away from Ian. "Tell him I'm not going anywhere." I look from Ian to Jace and back, knowing who I would choose if I had the liberty of making that choice. Jace.
Jace won't be here after summer, and Ian will.
But Ian has never given me flowers. I twist my arm from Ian's grasp and swallow. "I'm sorry," I tell him. "I think you need to go."
Ian's fists clench tightly at his side. From the corner of my eye, I see Jace still leaning against the house, a small grin stretching across his lips. Ian grabs his keys from the porch swing and scales the three stairs down to the grass. "Fuck both of you. Don't bother calling me when you get home, Bayleigh."
I look away, unable to meet his eyes or say anything else. Ian seems to be frustrated that I'm not fighting for him to stay. He spits on the ground. "It's my fault for dealing with some whore still in high school."
Jace flies off the porch. I watch in horror as he grabs Ian's shoulder and turns him around. Ian's eyes go wide as Jace throws his arm back, preparing to punch him. "Jace, no!"
I run after him, grabbing his elbow just in time to stop him from beating the hell out of Ian.
Jace's muscles flex under my grip and I know I'm not strong enough to stop him. But he lowers his hand anyway.
Ian stares, mouth open in shock. I grab Jace's lowered arm with both hands and don't let go. "Please, don’t," I whisper loud enough for him to hear. Jace's cologne smells amazing as he turns back to look at me. His eyes look into mine while Ian lets out a string of profanities.
"Come on, Bayleigh," Jace says, linking his fingers into mine and pulling me back toward my grandparent's house. "He isn't worth it."
I don't look back as Ian's car starts up and peels out of the driveway sending rocks scattering everywhere. Jace leads me into the house, up the stairs and into my room. Tears pour down my cheeks as I dive face first onto my bed, not wanting to talk to him but not wanting him to leave either. The bed sags as he sits in the middle of it. I open my eyes and turn my head to the side. Jace places the pink rose on my pillow.
"I had no idea he was going to show up like that," I say after a few moments of silence.
Jace runs his hand over my hair. "I figured as much when I heard him yelling at you."
I turn over onto my back and Jace lays down next to me, staring at the ceiling. He grabs my hand and holds it close to his chest. "You shouldn't do that," I say under my breath.
"Why?" He turns his head on the pillow to look at me. I wish he wasn't so cute.
"Because you're leaving. Because holding my hand is a pointless comfort right now. It means nothing."
"It doesn't mean nothing to me." Jace's words are calm, secure. It frustrates me how he doesn't realize the seriousness of our situation.
I pull my hand away. "You can't hold my hand, Jace. You can't kiss me and you can't bring me flowers. Because pretty soon you're leaving forever and I'll never see you again and it'll be the most pointless summer of my life."
He laughs. I punch him in the arm.
"Bayleigh, Bayleigh, Bayleigh," he says, sitting up and pulling me into a sitting position with him. He cups my face in his hands. "I have something exciting to tell you."
"Exciting for you, maybe." I know I shouldn't be bitter towards him. His good news is probably something to with his motocross career and I should be happy for him. But I'm finding it hard to be anything but sad right now.
"Exciting for both of us," he says, trailing his hands down my arms until he grabs my hands. Excitement dances across his face. "I just got back from Mixon Motocross Park."
"Okay…." I say, still failing to see the exciting part of this.
"The owner offered me a job. My own motocross school—giving lessons and stuff at his track. It pays a lot of money and it's the perfect alternative since I can't race professionally anymore."
I bite my lip. "Where did you say this track is located?"
He smiles. "About thirty minutes from your hometown."
My heart flips in my chest. "What are you saying?" I ask.
He leans forward and kisses me on the forehead. "I'm staying in Texas. I'm going to move to Mixon and work there. I'm not going back to LA."
"Are you sure?" I whisper, inhaling his scent as chills prickle my arms.
He nods. "I have nothing in LA worth going back for. Here, I have you." Just when I think my grin can't possibly get any better, he says, "That is, of course, if you'll be my girlfriend."
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Amy Sparling is a Texas native with a passion for young adult literature. In her free time she participates in an unhealthy amount of Xbox playing, attends nerd conventions and reads books with her daughter. Amy Sparling is a pen name.
If you enjoyed this novella, please share it with friends and help an indie author spread the word.
You can tweet her @Amy_Sparling or visit her at: www.AmySparling.com
Check out Amy's other books: Deadbeat
Phantom Summer
EXCERPT OF DEADBEAT
By Amy Sparling
CHAPTER ONE
"Why do you kiss me like this if you're not going to have sex with me?" I ask, exhausted of the same making out after school routine. Elisa's eyes flicker and she looks away, ashamed.
Dammit.
I guess I shouldn't have said it like that, but it's too late now. I didn't mean to hurt her feelings, but it's just so damn frustrating. We make out every day until her Mom gets home, but that's just it. I'm so sick of second base. When will she let me get to third? Or at the very least – short stop.
"I'm sorry," she mumbles. Our legs and arms intertwine as we lay on the futon in her bedroom. She's lying on the inside, up against the corner. I lay on the outside, one arm under her head and the other on her hip. Her cat whines and scratches from outside her door. We've long since banned him from our time together, but he never gets the hint to go away. Elisa thinks it's mean to keep him out there but I think it's awkward to make out with a cat purring nearby, watching our every move. It's all sorts of wrong.
Of course the meowing and scratching on the door doesn't make it much better. I take Elisa's chin and force her to look at me. She gives me one of those smiles that look like a frown.
"You're mad at me," she whispers. I kiss her forehead because she likes that kind of thing; pull her to me even though we are already touching as much as psychically possible. "Lis, I told you we don't have to do it until you're ready."
She grips my arm tighter. "But you're mad, I can tell." I shake my head. "No, I'm not mad.
We just can't make out this intensely anymore." I adjust myself through my jeans so she will get the hint.
"You're gross!" she says, pushing me away.
"It's not my fault, babe."
We sit up in an effort to cool ourselves off. I grab the remote off her nightstand and turn on her TV. A basketball game is on, so I flip to the sports channel to clear my mind of sex. She groans because she hates sports. She hates them so much that she hasn't even gone to my last three home games. I guess after six months of dating you get comfortable enough to quit making sacrifices for each other.
Of course, God forbid she gets comfortable enough to sleep with me. Ugh. I shake the thought from my mind and focus on the game. The Rockets are leading by thirty points, which kicks ass.
I throw my arm around her and kiss her hair. It smells like coconut. Her arms are crossed and she's staring out the window, either in a daze or deep in thought – I can never tell. But just in case she's sitting here steaming about me watching sports, I put the remote in her lap. "You can pick something to watch," I say with an innocent smile that means please don't be pissed at me.
She takes it and flips through the channel guide, pausing on each individual channel listing, even the stupid ones. She's definitely lost in thought.
"What's the deal?" I ask, chuckling and nudging to her arm. She shrugs, still not looking at me. I hate when she does this. The whole "get quiet, don't talk to me and force me to pry whatever stupid and trivial thing she's harboring over out of her" thing. "If you're going to act upset and not tell me why then I'm leaving," I say, moving to stand up. I don't actually stand because this fake threat works every time.
"No!" She grabs my arm. "Don't leave, please." Yep, works every time.
"Why are you suddenly sad?" I ask. "We just made out – you should be stoked." I pop my collar even though I'm just wearing a T-shirt. "I know I'm stoked."
Usually she laughs when I do stupid shit like that, but this time she doesn't. She just looks down at the buttons on the remote. The highlights in her hair have grown out an inch already and I wonder if it's really been that long since her birthday when I paid for the dye job. Grabbing her hand, I lift it to my lips and start kissing her head repeatedly like some kind of crazy kissing monster. Eventually, it gets a laugh out of her.
She pushes me away, fixes her now messy hair, and frowns. "I just feel really bad that you want sex so much and I keep denying you." Her bottom lip curls out, her little force of habit that always makes me feel bad.
I don't want a deep-ass emotional talk right now.
"Well then stop denying me," I say, making this exaggerated wink so she knows I'm kidding and won't tear into me for being insensitive. She cracks a tiny
smile and I continue, "Look babe, it's not a big deal." Actually, it is a big deal because I'm the only guy on the team who's still a virgin but I lie anyway. "Whenever you're ready for sex, just tell me. But until then, it's fine."
"Really?" she asks, settling on a cooking show.
"Really."
We watch the Food Network until her mom gets home with a pizza. Her mom is kind of religious and doesn't allow us in Elisa's room alone. We end up spending a fun-filled family evening in the living room with her annoying little preteen sister. Sometimes I wonder why I put up with these things. But then her drunk dad – who everyone pretends isn't really a drunk – stumbles and falls flat on his face, making the afternoon worthwhile after all.
I'm expected to leave exactly at nine. When the dreaded time comes, Elisa and I stand in the doorway under the porch light in what turns into a ten-minute goodbye. Crickets chirp and cars zoom down her busy road. We hold each other and make out standing up, a fun little routine we do every time I visit her.
The little seductress bites my lip and I shudder, a tingle going from my lips down through my toes. I run my fingers under the back of her shirt, up her spine and bring them forward to just under her breast. She pulls me closer, tighter, to her body. I freeze, unable to move for fear of losing control and ripping off her clothes right here on the stone entryway to her house.
"I wish you didn't have to go," she whispers, since our faces are incredibly close.
"Me too, baby," I say. It's a strain to speak under all the built up sexual tension in my body.
We break loose from each other and I literally shake myself a bit to bring me back to reality.
She looks so hot in the shallow glow streaming down through the dusty porch light. I lean down, kiss her forehead and tell her goodbye.
"Wait," she says a few seconds later. I stop walking and turn back to her. She hesitates, chewing on her bottom lip.
"What is it?" I ask.
"This Friday," she says.
"What about it?"