She stood up. “Sorry. I had a moment.”
I handed the M&M Blizzard to the little girl. She turned on her heels, revealing my next customer, Alder. Her eyes were red, and she was beyond pissed.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice already breaking.
“We were just joking around. What can I get you?” I asked.
“Fuck you. You know what I’m talking about, Easter,” she seethed.
My mind raced for a response, but she hadn’t come for a fight. She was alone, and that wasn’t like the Erins.
She cocked her head a bit, impatient with my silence. “Answer me. And don’t you dare pretend to be innocent. We both know what’s been going on.”
Frankie stood beside me. “She’s working, Alder. You can talk about this later.”
“No, I can’t,” she said, her eyes glossing over. “Because I’m leaving in half an hour for South Padre. I was supposed to be riding with Weston, but he’s suddenly decided that he doesn’t want to go, so I’m riding with Sonny. Explain to me why that is, Easter.”
“I can’t speak for him.”
“Well someone’s going to have to. The only thing he said was that it wasn’t working out between us.”
“He broke up with you?”
Alder put both of her hands on the little counter in front of the window, palms down. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“I never expected him to,” I said. It was the truth.
“He didn’t have a lot of time to go into details, because he was taking some stupid drawing to Ponca City to have it framed.”
I choked. “He . . . what?”
“So you can tell me, Easter. Why are you doing this to me?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, that same anger I felt with Sara bubbling up again. “Why am I doing something to you?”
“Has he been cheating on me? I deserve to know!”
Frankie put her hand on her hip. “If he broke up with you, does it really matter?”
Alder’s eyes targeted Frankie. “Oh, go push out another kid, Frankie.”
Frankie slowly moved me to the side and leaned down. “You need to leave right now, or you’re going to have to try to enjoy your senior trip with no boyfriend and a new black eye. Because I will come through this window at you.”
Alder rolled her eyes. She walked away, but stopped and came back. “You watch yourself, Easter. When I get back, I’m going to make it my mission to make you so miserable you’ll have to finish high school at home. You think I’ve been mean to you? You haven’t seen anything yet.”
“That sounds like a threat.” Frankie narrowed her eyes at Alder.
Alder smiled, but she looked more frightening that I’ve ever seen her. “I don’t make threats. I’m just giving her an idea of what the next six weeks of her life are going to be like.”
“Same thing,” Frankie said.
“I’m going to go enjoy my Spring Break. You should really try to enjoy yours.”
“I will,” I said, lifting my chin.
She shot me a look that made my blood run cold and returned to her Honda.
“Whew! You lit a fire under her ass!” Frankie said, nearly euphoric from the confrontation.
I leaned my butt against the counter. “She’s serious. When she gets back, it’s going to be hell.”
“Who cares?” Frankie said with a wink. “You’ve got Weston.”
“I don’t have him.”
“He’s framing your drawing.” She sighed. “He’s got it bad.”
“This is all really weird. Everything has been the same every day since first grade. Things have steadily gotten worse, and now they’re . . . I don’t know.”
“Amazing?”
“Different.”
Frankie nodded. An SUV pulled into the parking lot, and four kids hopped out, followed by their toddler-toting mother. Frankie and I got back to work.
I was feeling even more excited for Spring Break. If I was going to be punished for it, I was going to make sure every second was worth it.
Chapter Eight
Weston’s truck was parked directly behind the Dairy Queen. As if he already didn’t look happy enough, I brought him an extra tall Cherry Dip Cone. His grin spread from ear to ear.
“Do I have time to go home and change?” I asked.
“Nope. I’m too excited to show you something.”
We drove to his house. The windows were dark, and when he pressed the garage door button, his parents’ vehicle wasn’t in its spot. Even though it was a weekend, the entire town seemed to be closed down. With all the upperclassman traffic gone during Spring Break and so many families away for vacation, Blackwell would be on a week-long sleep; it was that way every year.
“Your parents already left?” I asked.
He nodded. “This morning.”
“What did they say about you staying home?”
He held open the door for me, and I walked through to the hallway. “It was a little weird. They were confused, and Mom’s freaking out about Alder, but they also seemed relieved. I think they were letting me go because I’m eighteen, but they were going to be worried about me the whole time.”
“Makes sense.”
“They asked me if I wanted to go skiing, but it’s their first adults-only vacation since they had me, so they were kind of glad I said no.”
I chuckled. His life was so fascinating to me. The way he was so close with his parents, how they understood each other and cared for each other was foreign to me. But mostly I liked that they were sober and could solve their issues without yelling at him.
We went to the main stairs, and Weston flipped on the light. I followed him up the spiral, wooden staircase. There was a polished wooden banister with intricate iron instead of spindles. I loved his house. It was so clean, and decorated with such care that it could have been featured in a home design magazine. Hanging from the clay-colored wall were canvases of Weston and his older sister Whitney, posing together and individually, from grade school to senior year.
When we reached the top of the stairs, Weston walked down another hallway, and then opened the last door on the left, sweeping his arm across his body, signaling for me to come in. The room was still dark, but when I stepped inside, Weston flipped on the light, revealing his bed, a dresser, and a desk. Like the rest of the house, everything had its place. It was all dusted and smelled fresh. The midnight blue comforter was tucked under the pillows, and smoothed out just right. The desk was organized and dusted, and his brand new computer was off.
Above the desk was the charcoal he’d drawn of me. Its frame was black and looked like rope. It didn’t really go with the brown-stained wooden frame of his bed, or anything else in his room.
“What do you think?”
I realized then that my mouth was open and I snapped it shut.
His eyebrows pulled together. “I went to Hobby Lobby in Ponca to get it framed. It wasn’t the frame I wanted, but they would have had to order the other one, and I wanted to show it to you today. I couldn’t wait.”
“Are you really going to fail Art?”
He shrugged. “Who cares? What do you think?”
“The Art Institute of Dallas might take issue with you failing Art.”
His shoulders fell. “I’m not going to Dallas, Erin.”
“Why not?”
“I tried to tell my parents, but I can’t look them in the eye and say it to them.”
“Do you want to go?”
He held out his hands then let them fall back to his thighs with a slap. “Yeah.”
“Then you’re going. We’re going to figure out a way to get you there, even if I have to hold your hand when you tell them. They love you, Weston, and above all, they want you to be happy, right?”
He nodded slowly. “But . . .”
“No buts. We’re going to get you there.”
He watched me for a moment. “Do you like the frame?”
“I love the frame. I lov
e the picture. I still don’t understand why you decided to make me your final project.” My last words hung in the air. “Is that what I am? A project?”
He seemed disappointed by my question. “I didn’t know what I was going to do. I just started drawing. After a week I realized that she,” he said, pointing to the drawing, “was you. As I put more time into making her perfect, I understood why it happened.” He took a few steps toward me, until he was so close I had to look up to see his eyes. “When you think about something enough, you start dreaming about it. And when you dream about something enough, you just have to hope that it becomes a reality.” He sighed. “I think about you all the time, Erin. I’ve wanted to talk to you for years, but I was just so damn nervous. I didn’t know what to say or how you’d react if I did. I was afraid you would think I was just trying to help Alder pick on you. I know that I have shitty timing, because we’re both getting ready to move in different directions, but I’ve gotten really good at loving you from a distance.”
I’d worked so hard not to let anyone see me cry that I felt a moment of panic when my eyes watered and the first tear fell. I quickly wiped it away.
Weston put his thumbs on each side of my face and leaned down, pausing just before he whispered, “Can I kiss you?”
I nodded slowly, feeling every nerve in my body perk up and wait to experience what was about to happen.
Weston leaned in, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips to mine. They were so soft and warm. His lips parted, so I did the same. I’d seen kissing on television enough to know how this worked, so I just tried to keep my lips soft and moved with him. His tongue slipped into my mouth and danced with mine. He tasted like Cherry Dip Cone and toothpaste, which was oddly fantastic. His hands slid down from my jaw to my neck, and then to my shoulders. His fingers pressed into my skin as he pulled me gently closer.
Just when I thought I was going to pass out from holding my breath, I heard Weston breathe slightly through his nose, and I did the same. I was completely clueless, so I just kept taking cues from him.
He pulled away, and I nearly fell forward because I wasn’t ready to stop yet.
“Whoa,” he said, staring at me.
“What? Was it awful?”
He shook his head. “No. Not at all. But we’d better stop.” He sat on the bed and took a deep breath, rubbing the back of his head. He stared at the floor. “Just . . . give me a minute.”
I walked over to him and crashed against his chest. His back slammed against the bed, and I put my mouth on his. He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me to him, making a low humming noise as our tongues found their way to each other again. We grabbed at each other, barely coming up for air, and at one point or another over the next hour, we occupied every inch of his queen-sized bed.
Finally, Weston let his head fall back to his pillow, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around me. I was halfway on top of him, lying on my side, my leg draped over one of his. “I’m going to be hurting in the morning already. We have to stop.”
“Why will you be hurting?”
He paused, clearly trying to search for gentle words to explain. “I feel like an ass explaining. It’ll make it sound like I’m trying to guilt trip you into . . . you know. And it was never my intention for you to experience your first kiss and lose your virginity in the same night.”
“Are we talking about blue balls?”
He choked then busted out into loud laughter. Once he caught his breath, he pulled my fingers up to his mouth and kissed them. “Yes.”
“I’m not completely clueless. I am aware of most things, even if I haven’t experienced them for myself.”
“Something you might not be aware of is that I’m not cheating on Alder. I broke up with her today.”
“I know.”
He readjusted his head on the pillow to look straight at me. “How?”
“She came by the DQ today. She was pretty upset.”
“Was she mean to you?” he said. His jaws worked under the skin as he waited for me to answer.
“She’s always mean to me. But she said when she gets back that it’s going to get significantly worse.”
Weston looked away, and then back at me. “I won’t let them hurt you anymore, Erin. Don’t be afraid of them.”
“I’m not.”
He frowned. “It’s just six weeks. We can get through it.”
I kissed him, this time it was brief and sweet. Just a peck, then I nodded. “You’re the one I’m worried about. You’re not used to it.”
“I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time. They might give us shit during school, but they can’t touch what we’ve got.”
I rested my head on his chest and listened to his heart beating. It slowed more with each passing minute, and then his breathing became deep and even. I glanced up, seeing that his eyes were closed. His hand was resting comfortably on my back. I laid my head back down, nestling against his side and snuggling into his neck. He pulled me closer to him, and that is when I fell asleep.
~*~
At first, the chirping didn’t register, but when Weston tried to carefully maneuver out from under me, I woke up.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “It’s four in the morning. Go back to sleep.”
“What’s going on?” I asked, wiping my eyes.
“I don’t know. Someone is blowing up my phone.” Right when he reached for his cell and unplugged it from the charger, it rang. “Shit, it’s my Mom. Hello?”
I could hear Veronica on the other end, her voice high-pitched and desperate.
“No. Calm down, Mom. No, I told you. I’m in Blackwell. I stayed here, remember? Mom. Stop crying. What’s going on?”
The voice switched to a deep tone, and I could tell it was Peter, Weston’s father. Weston wiped his face, his eyes were wide.
“Holy shit. Are you sure? Who told you?” He paused, listening to Peter. “Oh, man. Both of them? I don’t . . . Jesus. No, don’t come back. I’m fine. No, I’m sure. You guys try to have a good time. I’m at home, safe in my bed. Okay. Love you, too.” He hung up the phone and looked down at me.
“What is it? Are they okay?”
“Yeah, they’re fine. It’s the Erins. They were on their way to South Padre, and Alder was driving. She fell asleep or something and crossed the median. They hit a semi head on. They’re dead.”
“They’re . . . dead?” I said in disbelief.
Weston wiped his face again and held his hand over his mouth. “They’re dead. Sonny and Alder are dead.” His eyes were wide, and my mouth hung open. We sat in silence for the longest time.
Weston grabbed his phone and checked his messages. He sighed and shook his head. “The rumors are already starting.” He put down the phone. “Should I take you home?”
“Whatever you want to do. If you want to be alone, I can walk home. If you don’t, I’ll stay here.”
He pulled me against him and leaned back against the pillows, but we didn’t sleep.
Chapter Nine
The funerals were held together the following Saturday. I didn’t go, because it didn’t feel right, but Weston stopped by the Dairy Queen afterward to fill me in. He told me Sonny’s parents and Sam and Julianne seemed to be holding up well and leaned on each other for support. He talked about what the funeral looked like, who ran the service, what songs they played and who was there. But he seemed lost.
“Why don’t you go?” Frankie said. “He needs you today.”
“I . . .” I looked to Weston. “Do you want me to take off?”
He looked pitiful. “Please?”
I pulled off my apron and tossed it on the counter. “Thanks, Frankie.”
She winked at me, but her expression was sad.
I pushed through the back door, and went immediately into Weston’s arms. He held me tight, burying his head in my neck. I held him for a long time, but when I pulled away, he hung on, so I kept my arms around him, squeezing tighter.
Once his arms relaxed, he han
ded me his keys. “Would you drive?”
I froze. “I’ve only driven the Driver’s Ed car, and that was over two years ago.”
“You can do it,” he said. He opened the door and helped me into the driver’s seat; then he jogged around and climbed in next to me.
I nervously turned the key in the ignition, adjusted the seat and mirrors, all while trying to recall everything I learned about driving. I pressed on the brake and then pulled the gear into drive, pulling forward. I paused at Main Street before driving out of the parking lot. “Where do you want to go?”
“Anywhere. Just drive.” He reached over and took my hand into his. As I turned right and headed out of town, Weston rested his head against the seat. “Everyone was apologizing to me today. It felt so weird, because I don’t feel like I lost anything. I should feel different. Is it weird that I don’t?”
“I don’t know how to feel either. I try not to think about it.”
“Maybe it’s not acceptable, or maybe others wouldn’t understand.” He turned to look at me. “But we get it. We can talk about it to each other.”
I waited for him to expand on that thought. The Erins couldn’t make good on Alder’s promise to make me miserable, now, and that was a good thing. But I didn’t want to be the first one to say something so appalling out loud.
He looked up. “I’m sorry they were hurt. I’m sorry they lost their lives, but I feel sort of . . . relieved. It feels like such an asshole thing to say, but it’s the truth. Don’t you feel the same?”
“I’m not glad they’re dead.” I took a deep breath. “But it’s a relief to know they can’t torture me anymore.”
Weston squeezed my hand, and after that. We didn’t talk much. I drove until the gas light lit up on the dash. By then we were an hour south, in Stillwater. Weston directed me to the nearest gas station and showed me how to pump the gas.
“You hungry?” he asked.
“A little.”
“Okay, I’ll grab some chips and a pizza pocket or something. Mountain Dew?”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
He hung the nozzle on the pump, and then ran into the station. I stood there, not sure which door to get in. When Weston returned, he watched me, puzzled.
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