by Lucy Kevin
I was halfway out of the room when she said, “Gabrielle?”
I stopped, turned. “Yes, Grandmaman?”
“Every since you were a little girl, you have told me everything. You have trusted me to be there for you. Please, do not let me lose your trust.”
I felt tears prick at my eyes, the tears I’d been holding back for so long. “You haven’t,”
was what I told her.
Only, that didn’t mean I felt comfortable talking to her about everything and anything anymore, like I had when I was ten or twelve or fifteen.
Because how could I possibly talk to her about things that I knew would only hurt her?
She was too frail. Too delicate.
And too worried about me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I suppose it was inevitable.
Dylan and Bradley had to meet sometime, right?
Because isn’t that the way the universe works? When two opposing forces should never meet, in the end there’s no way to keep it from happening.
I just wish it didn’t have to be right then, at a time when I was more confused about everything than ever before.
*
Saturday started off pretty well. Dylan picked me up to go walk over to the school. He was going to help me think through the percussion on a couple of songs I’d been working on. My grandmother was civil to him. He was polite, as well.
I stepped outside and immediately shivered in my thin, short leather jacket. “It’s freezing out!” I looked up at the sky, smelled the air. “I swear, it looks like it’s going to snow, doesn’t it?”
His gaze followed mine as he pulled me closer. After the way things had ended between us in my bedroom just a few days before, I had been afraid things would be awkward when he came to my house again. They were. But only a little. Both of us were doing that thing we did so well; pretending that nothing weird had happened. Pretending that everything was normal.
Pretending that we were just a girl and just a boy who were falling for each other.
“It almost never snows this early in November,” was what he finally said. Even though I knew he was right, that the odds of snow right now were almost nil, a part of me wanted to ask him how he could be so sure? I mean, look at all the things I had been so sure about.
I wasn’t sure if it was the thought that had me shivering again, or the temperature, but I still said, “I’ll run back in and get a bigger coat on and be back in a sec.”
Dylan slipped his jacket over my shoulders, warm and oversized, a moment later. “You can use mine.”
It made more sense for me to go back inside and get my own jacket. After all, we were barely a couple of feet from my front door and he was bound to get really cold in just a long-sleeved T-shirt. But I loved holding onto a part of him. I loved knowing he was willing to be cold on my behalf.
“Thanks.” I went up on my tippy-toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. They were cold and so were mine, but it didn’t take long for us to make them warm.
He smiled down at me when we stopped. “I’m sorry about the way I acted in your bedroom, Gabi. I should have said it before now, but I’ve been trying to get my head around things.”
Oh god. I could feel my face flaming, remembering how I’d tried to entice him to be with me…and he’d had no problem at all pulling away.
“You know what I’d love right now?” I told him by way of changing the subject. “A really big hot chocolate with a mound of whipped cream on top.”
But for the first time, Dylan wasn’t taking the easy out. “I’ll do better next time, Gabi.”
I wished there was something funny or cute I could say to keep from going so deep again, to keep from going back to a dark place that I was getting so tired of visiting.
But all I could finally say was, “I know you will.”
“If you want to talk more about things right now, I’m totally game for that.”
Here’s the thing. I knew he meant it. Or, at the very least, that he thought he meant it. But despite the fact that I’d vowed to be completely honest with everyone from here on out, that didn’t mean hurting anyone else, did it? And given that he was still processing what I’d already told him, I just knew that he’d have a hard time with my visit to Katarina. And the fact that there might be some ancestor on the other side of the curse that I might one day go searching for.
“I’m okay right now.”
He was clearly relieved. And I didn’t blame him. How could I when he was working hard enough to deal with his own life?
As I threaded my fingers through his, I worked to ignore the feeling that I was falling into the old pattern of hiding my own problems from Dylan. That I was the using the “his problems are bigger than mine” excuse to justify it.
“There’s an awesome coffee shop on the way to school.” We walked slowly through the cold and it was so nice just to be with him, just to hold his hand and to look forward to playing some music together soon. “How are your songs coming together?”
“Okay.”
I’d seen him play enough times in group settings to know that his okay was everyone else’s amazing.
“What about you?”
“I felt blocked for so long, but they’ve finally started coming.”
I could feel his eyes on me. “I can’t wait to hear them.”
The thing was, even though we were going to be working on percussion for the three songs I’d written so far, I hadn’t planned on actually singing them for him. It was the same reason I hadn’t sung them for my grandmother yet, even though I’d always shared my music with her.
The lyrics were too revealing. Everything I wasn’t telling Dylan, everything I wasn’t telling my grandmother…they’d figure too many things out if they actually listened to my songs.
They’d know exactly how confused I was.
They’d know how lost I felt.
And they’d see the darkness in the songs, see the way I was trying so desperately to find the light, and any shields I’d managed to erect would fall.
“I’ve got some pretty good melodies going.” I hated keeping the full truth from Dylan, hated the fact that I’d been doing this with him all along. Still, I told him, “The lyrics are still coming together.”
It wasn’t a total lie. I probably would tweak the lyrics a few more times before I went into my final performance, but that was little consolation.
“Maybe I could help you with yours, too.”
He shrugged. “If we have time.”
A little pang knocked around inside my gut. He wasn’t doing anything different from what I’d just done, he was simply trying to protect what was his.
It still hurt.
We stopped in front of Coffee Corner. “Here’s the place.”
“Fancy-looking coffee shop.”
I’d never really noticed either way, but through his eyes I could see that with all of the gleaming windows and granite tabletops and floor tiles, it certainly wasn’t a grimy artist’s den.
“With seriously good hot chocolate,” I reminded him.
Pushing the door open, I pulled him out of the cold behind me and into the warmth of the clean, well-lit café. It was crowded with people on laptops and cell phones.
I was still working to shake off the way his blowing off my offer to help with his songs had made me feel, when I looked up and saw my worst nightmare come true.
Bradley.
He was looking right at me.
“You know what,” I said quickly, almost tripping over my words, “we should go, get straight to the songs.”
Dylan just plain looked confused. “I thought you said you wanted a hot chocolate?”
I shrugged and planted a smile on my face that I hoped told him chicks were all fickle.
“Craving passed! I’m good. And it’s really crowded in here. We can probably find some place with a smaller line closer to sch—”
“Gabrielle, hey there. I didn’t know you knew about this place.”
My heart sank. Way, way down.
I turned to face Bradley. “Bradley, hi!”
I was trying to act like seeing him here was no big deal. The effort made my smile freeze on my face and my voice go all squeaky. I suddenly felt overheated and wanted desperately to take off Dylan’s coat. Only, what if he thought I was doing it for a different reason?
“I like the hot chocolate.”
Bradley shifted his gaze to Dylan. He reached out a hand. “Hi. I’m Bradley.”
“Dylan.”
Bradley nodded. “I figured.”
I’d never seen Bradley be anything but gracious and easy. Where was his grin? Why wasn’t he making Dylan—and me!—feel relaxed?
“Why don’t you guys join me? I’m watching a couple of my little sisters today.”
Two cute girls giggled as they watched the three of us. Despite how uncomfortable the situation was, my heart couldn’t help but go out to Bradley. No wonder he was willing to give up everything for his family. I’d always longed for siblings. I couldn’t imagine how protective I’d feel about two pint-sized girls who had big smiles and trusting eyes.
I could tell joining him was the last thing Dylan wanted to do. Which was why it was so weird when he said, “Sure. Gabi, I’ll order and join you guys in a sec.”
As soon as we were out of earshot, I hissed, “What are you doing?” to Bradley.
But I never had a chance to hear his answer, because his sisters started chattering like crazy at our approach. “You’re pretty.”
“Who are you?”
“Who is she?”
“Who’s the guy you’re with?”
“Is he a rock star?”
“Katie. Vickie. This is Gabrielle.”
“Hi.” My smile was genuine for them. How could it not be? I pointed at the stacks of sparkling little stones on the table. “What are you guys working on?”
Katie lifted up a little silver machine. “We’re bedazzling our Tshirts.”
“And our shoes!”
Vickie lifted up a foot.
“Wow. Awesome.”
I could see how proud Bradley was of them, the way he instinctively moved to tie Vickie’s loose shoelace. It struck me that he was almost more of a father figure to them than a brother.
Dylan came over with our drinks. He put my hot chocolate down on the table. It was missing the whipped cream, but I was so not going to complain. All I wanted to do was gulp it down as fast as I could and get the heck out of there.
“So,” Dylan said, after pulling over a chair for himself. (How could I not have noticed there were only four chairs? Ugh, ugh, ugh.) “How do you guys know each other?”
He completely ignored the girls, but they were too busy staring at him openmouthed to notice. Clearly, they thought he was a rock star. I knew how that went. That’s the way he’d seemed to me at first, too, like he should be on a stage in front of a hundred thousand screaming girls instead of hanging out with me.
“Dylan,” I said instead of answering his question, “this is Katie and Vickie. Girls, this is Dylan.”
He finally looked at them and they both flushed pink, then turned their focus back to their bedazzling.
“We met at a party.”
Seriously. I was going to kill Bradley.
Dylan slowly turned his head back toward Bradley. “A party.”
I had to intercept, even though something told me it was already too late. “A few weeks ago.” Flustered, trying to make it sound like it was no big deal, I said, “It was something my grandmother wanted me to—”
Oh shit, shit, shit! Why had I said that?
“A party with your grandmother?” Dylan looked between me and Bradley, full comprehension coming way too fast. “You were at that party with Gabi?”
His voice was dangerously low.
Bradley didn’t back down. His smile was feral. “That’s right. I was there.”
Double shit!
“Funny,” Dylan said, “I haven’t heard your name before.”
I wanted to disappear— poof! —in my seat. One minute I’d be there, the next I’d be gone.
“I’ve heard yours.”
I was literally sitting in the middle of two guys pulling and tugging at me.
And I hated it.
“I’m not in the mood for hot chocolate anymore.” I pushed back my chair, leaving Dylan’s jacket on it. I addressed my goodbyes to Bradley’s sisters. “It was nice to meet both of you.”
Bradley was halfway out of his seat when he obviously realized he couldn’t leave his sisters alone to go after me. I didn’t know if Dylan was behind me anymore, and right then, I didn’t care.
They both wanted to claim territory. I got it. But that didn’t mean I had to sit there as the prize getting knocked around in the middle.
I was halfway back to my grandmother’s house when Dylan caught up with me.
“Gabi!”
I didn’t slow down. Didn’t stop for him.
“Gabi, wait!”
I could hear his footsteps coming hard behind me.
“I was a dick back there.” He was beside me now, his breath puffing out in the cold air.
“It just seemed like he knew you so well.”
“We’re friends.”
“I know, but you met him at that party.”
I stopped cold, turned to advance on him. “You still shouldn’t have acted like that.”
Looking back, maybe I shouldn’t have come at him so aggressively, but I wasn’t only trying to convince him. I was desperate to convince myself, too.
“He’s into you.”
There was no denying it. “So what?”
“How do you feel about him?”
I shouldn’t have paused, I shouldn’t have let a beat go before I said, “I like him.”
“How much?”
“A lot!”
I yelled the two words at him, before realizing what I’d done.
“He knows we’re together.” I crossed my arms over my chest as if that would help protect me from feeling any worse. “He knows we’re seeing each other. I’ve told him a hundred times.”
“But you’re still hanging out with him.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Sure I do, Gabi. You’ve got some pretty, rich boy on the line and you don’t want to lose him, just in case. Who wouldn’t get it?”
“I don’t care about his money or what he looks like.” Okay, well, that part wasn’t exactly true, but I barreled on anyway. “He’s the only one who understands what it’s like for me to be stuck in that world!”
“He doesn’t have to be the only one who understands. You can tell me what it’s like, Gabi.”
I wanted to, but I could talk until I lost my voice and I knew he wouldn’t understand.
Still, I tried. “My grandmother—” I looked up at the dark clouds above us, clouds that looked and smelled like snow. A snow that shouldn’t be falling. “The curse—” Every way I tried to start was wrong. “There’s this woman, she’s like the queen of the court—”
I looked at Dylan then, and what I saw in his eyes—anger, frustration, disbelief…and hurt
—all of those things stopped me from saying more.
“I should have told you about Bradley.”
He didn’t say anything for a long moment. “You’ve never kissed him?”
“No.”
Thank God that was true.
We stood on the sidewalk facing each other as strangers made their way around us.
“Do you still want to work on your songs?”
No. I didn’t. Not at all. And not with him. Not right now, anyway. Not when everything felt so raw inside and the songs were only going to make me feel even more exposed.
But instead of saying any of that, I said, “Sure.”
“I won’t freak again, Gabi.” He moved a hand around my back and gently pulled me toward him. “I hated feeling like that. Jealous. Almost out of control.” His mouth tw
isted. “I never thought I was like my father before. Until today. Until I saw you with him. ”
I was shocked by the place he’d gone. “You’re not like your father, Dylan. You could never be like him.”
But I could tell he wasn’t completely convinced.
“You would never hurt me.”
“No,” he agreed, “Never. I would never hurt you.” He met my eyes. “But I wanted to hurt him. For looking at you like that.”
How had Bradley looked at me?
“You wouldn’t have hurt him.” I held his gaze. “You wouldn’t have.”
It wasn’t until hours later, when we’d finished going over the percussion for my songs and I was back home, that I realized he’d never actually agreed with me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“Choose me.”
I hadn’t heard the doorbell, hadn’t realized that my grandmother had let anyone into our house. I’d been focusing on the melody that had been haunting me for weeks. But every time I’d tried to look for the lyrics that matched it, I kept coming up empty. Maybe because that’s what I was feeling.
Empty.
And scared.
The unexpected voice had me scooting around on the piano bench to face the doorway and it took me a few long moments to process the fact that Bradley was standing there, right in front of me.
He looked heartbreakingly beautiful, just like always, just like he had from the first moment I saw him watching that jazz band at the soirée.
But this time, he also looked determined.
Choose me.
I swallowed hard. “Bradley, I—”
He quickly moved toward me and the door swung closed behind him. “No, Gabrielle.
Wait. Before you say anything, before you tell me no, just let me say something first. Please?”
How could I push away the person who had been my confidante through the hardest weeks of my life?
“Okay.”
I expected him to sit next to me on the bed. Instead, he went down on his knees in front of me and took each of my hands in his. Just like every other time he’d touched me, my hands tingled. My response to Bradley had always been innate.
He took a deep breath, looking more nervous than I’d ever seen him. “Meeting you was the best thing that could have ever happened to me.”