by Beth Michele
I hear her laughter as she rounds the corner and wonder why the hell I’m still standing here, watching her, until she disappears.
I OFFER TROY a contrite smile as he opens the door. “Peace offering?” He barely glances at the giant piece of coconut cake, his favorite, before taking in my appearance. His eyes rove from my hair to the green Michael Kors wrap dress that I borrowed from Avery, to the Louboutin heels—also courtesy of my sister. I don’t fill out the dress as well as she does, but the push-up bra I’m wearing certainly helps.
“Number one. You’re forgiven. And number two,” he whistles a breath through his teeth, “you look smokin’ hot.” He pulls on my arm and tugs me inside, closing the door behind us. “Sit. I’ll be right back.” As he walks toward the kitchen, I plant myself on the couch and peel off the container lid. Shredded bits of fresh coconut stick to the sides, the smell heavenly. Troy returns with two forks and passes me one, dropping down on the sofa. “Please tell me you look like this because you had a lunch date?”
“Nope.” I stare down at my breasts on display and try to close the fabric tighter around them. Troy slaps my hand away.
“Stop. Honestly, Ems. You look amazing.” He brings a bite of cake to his lips with a big smile. “Again I ask, who is he?”
“There is no he,” I confess, sweeping cake onto my fork. “I was at that gallery opening in town and it was fantastic.”
“You went alone?”
“Yes.” My face twists in exaggeration. “I have no problem with my own company. I’m kind of decent sometimes.”
Troy bumps my shoulder with his own. “Now that’s an understatement.” He swirls his fork around the frosting while his eyes continue to probe. “So it was good?”
“It was great.” As I say the words, electricity flows through me and my limbs tingle. I set my fork down on the table, the cake losing its appeal. “There were quite a few local artists and mostly paintings and photography, but still….”
“But still, what?”
I glance away for a second, staring out the small window to the front yard. “I just got so energized, you know? I’d love to someday be able to have pieces of mine in a gallery. Or—”
“Have your own gallery.” My gaze drifts back to Troy as he reads my thoughts, his enthusiasm contagious.
“Yes.”
“I see it, Ems. I want that for you. I want all good things for you.” He covers my small hand with his large one. “You deserve it.”
“Thanks.” I move closer to kiss his cheek and his smile tickles my chin. “Your turn. Tell me how Samantha is.”
His lips tug into a deep frown and he falls back against the sofa. “It didn’t work out.”
“Why not?”
“Because she doesn’t like the fact that I’m also into guys.” He sighs, scraping two fingers down the front of his jeans. “She said she wouldn’t be able to get past it and doesn’t want to start anything.”
A fire lights in my belly because Troy is one of the best people I know. I mimic his position on the couch and lay my head on his shoulder. “She’s an idiot then and she doesn’t deserve you.” He places a gentle kiss against my hair. “So let’s not waste time talking about her. Did you sign up for those carpentry classes?”
“Yesterday.”
“It’s about time. And who knows? Pretty soon you might be doing projects with my dad. He’d be happy to have you on board.” I snort, and he elbows me in the ribs. “By the way, that sculpture presentation went really well,” I mention as I start to squirm, tugging at the belt around my waist.
“What are you doing?”
“This dress.” I pull at the fabric, trying to stretch it out. “It’s just… I’m not used to wearing stuff like this. It’s uncomfortable.”
“It looks like it was made for you. In fact, I really think you need to put this dress to good use.” He smoothes a hand over my thigh. “You can’t let it go to waste.”
“We could go to the grocery store.” I tease. “Hang out in the produce aisle or something. But Avery will kill me if I get her dress stained.”
“You need to go out on a date,” he prompts. “It’s good for the soul.”
“My soul is just fine. Anyway, not to change the subject.” Sitting up, I angle my body toward him. “Sorry about missing our dinner the other day.”
“Oh yeah, where were you? Your text was kind of vague.” He taps my nose. “Avery called me in a panic. And when I told her you hadn’t returned my calls, she thought something happened to you.”
“Something did. I got sidetracked by an unexpected passenger.” When his brows fold together, I go on. “Vance had some car trouble and I ran into him on my way to see a customer. Long story short, we spent the day together.” The confusion on his face turns to pleased curiosity.
“And how was that?”
An unexpected smile creeps across my cheeks. “Surprisingly, it was… really nice.”
“I can see that.” He grins and I flick his arm. “So… do you like him?”
I don’t have to think twice before I answer. “Yes, I do.”
He continues to cross-examine me in the way that only Troy can. “Do you like him, like him?”
I laugh, giving him a deliberate eye roll. “What are you, twelve?”
“Thirteen.” He glares at me. “Now answer the question.” When I don’t respond, he adds in. “I see.” Then he nods with conviction as if he knows me better than I know myself. “Do you remember when you were fourteen? You sat in the tree in your yard for three hours with Brian McNulty and had your first kiss?” I start to protest but he puts a single finger to my lips. “When I asked if you had a crush on him, do you remember what you said? And I quote, ‘You know I don’t crush on boys.’ And that time you were at the college mixer with Connor whatever his name was, who I never liked? You looked all dreamy when you’re never dreamy. I asked if he was going to be the one you lost your virginity to?” This time, I don’t try to offer up anything. “Exactly.” He smirks. “Because when a girl who’s never had much interest in boys most of her life, takes interest… I rest my case, your honor.”
“You might want to stick to carpentry,” I joke, and he gives my waist a squeeze. “Okay, I have to get going.” I push off the sofa, straightening out my dress as I stand. Troy huffs and follows me to the door.
“Sure, make your escape. It doesn’t change the facts,” he reaffirms, his head peeking out from the narrow gap of the screen.
Of course I know he’s right.
I TAKE MY usual spot in the driveway next to… Dad’s car? I’m not sure what he’s doing at the house today. While I didn’t expect to see him, I’m excited to discuss details of the gallery opening. Dad has always shared my enthusiasm for the arts, encouraging me to pursue my passion.
“Hand me that drill. Will ya, Vance?” Dad calls out, and I scoot higher in my seat to find Vance in the garage. I’m surprised to see him. My eyes drift down to my dress and I bite back a smile. I pinch the sides and front of the fabric with my fingers before stepping out of the car. I want to make sure nothing sticks out where it shouldn’t be.
“What’s going on?” I yell over the sound of the drill. Vance and Dad notice me at the same time. My father has that familiar jolly expression on his face. Vance, on the other hand, has his mouth hanging open, eyes roaming my body and making my skin flush. Goose bumps parade down my arms and I have to turn away.
Dad switches off the drill, the noise no longer a buffer. “Wow, honey. You look lovely.”
My eyes flick to my dad, but the heat of Vance’s stare unnerves me and my mouth goes dry. “Thanks.”
“This nice young man came by to say hello to you. I needed a hand, and he offered one.” Dad winks at Vance then turns his attention to me. “And I find out that he and his family recently moved in down the street, and that he’s already had the finest cinnamon rolls around.” He pats his belly, his full cheeks bright. “Lord knows I’ve had one too many of those myself.” His amuseme
nt dies down with the clearing of his throat. “Anyhoo, how did it go?”
“It was good, Dad. I can’t wait to tell you all about it.” I sling my purse over my shoulder. “Vance, can I talk to you for a second?” Once more, the buzz of the drill fills the air. Vance walks out on the driveway to meet me, hands stuffed in his pockets, his expression unreadable.
“Hey.”
“Hi.” I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “So ‘nice young man’ huh? I guess you’ve got my dad fooled.”
He chuckles. “I can be nice when I want to be.” His gaze roves again and I swallow, clutching tighter to my purse strap. “You look beau—great. You look great.”
I stare at my shoes to distract from my obvious blush. “Thanks.” When I hazard a glance back up, Vance’s eyes are zeroed in on a rock. He kicks it around the pavement with the toe of his sneaker.
“So, did you… have a, date or something?”
“No,” I reply too quickly. His eyes snap to mine and an undefined emotion flickers over his features. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear it was relief. I must be mistaken, though. I have to be. Right? “I was at a gallery opening,” I reveal. For some reason it’s important to me that he know.
“By yourself?” He continues to scrutinize me, and I laugh because now he sounds like Troy.
“Yes.” I place a hand on my hip. “I’m not bad company.”
“I know that. It’s just,” he shrugs, “I would’ve gone with you. I mean,” he clarifies. “If you wanted.”
“Oh.” I pause, unsure of what to do next. But then my thoughts go to Avery and how she loves to make grand, sweeping exits like in the movies. So I take this as an opportunity of sorts and walk away, calling over my shoulder. “I’ll remember that for next time.”
The hairs on the back of my neck tingle because I can feel him watching me—and think maybe Avery has the right idea—and that this dress didn’t go to waste after all.
THE HOT SUN beats down on my back, sweat building under my arms and around my neck. My legs burn as I push myself hard. The irony—I’m not even a fucking runner. But I had to do something. The vision of Ember in that dress has taken over my brain. All gentle curves and smooth skin, my fingers aching to touch. They curl instinctively into fists at my sides, reminding me that it’s a no-go. We’re friends. Anything else isn’t in the cards for me. If it were, then maybe things would be different. Still, I find myself thinking about her more than I should.
I turn the corner that leads to our house and notice Julian’s car in the driveway. It’s unusual for him to be home this early. He’s been working longer hours since he got the promotion and was transferred to the Errol Heights office. I’m still unclear why he wanted to move back in with us when he’s doing well financially. Not that I’m unhappy to have him here. I love having him around. But I question whether his motivation stems from worry about me.
Julian is in the dining room when I walk in, eyeing himself in the mirror. He does a one eighty when he sees me. “Since when do you run?” He laughs at what he perceives to be a joke while I sneer at him. “By the way, the mechanic called about your car and it’s ready. He said one of the guys that works for him lives around here, so they’re going to drop it by later.”
“Did he say what the damage is?” I lumber past him on the way to the kitchen, the heavy scent of cologne hanging in the air.
“Nope. But Dad left some money in an envelope on the table, and I’m sure it’s more than enough.” He makes a sucking sound with his teeth and glares at me. “How’s the job search coming along? Any bites?”
I hesitate. One: Due to my frustration with the job situation. And two: I don’t like taking money from my father. It makes me a total fucking hypocrite. “I got a few messages from recruiters about setting up phone screens, so there’s that. But I just don’t get it. It’s technology, and we’re in Oregon for fuck’s sake. Those jobs are everywhere.” I dig my fingers into the tense muscles at the back of my neck. “Whatever. I’m on it. And I’m sure the changes on the resume will help so thanks again.” Opening the fridge, I take out a bottle of water and twist the top. Sweat continues to drip down my skin making the need for a shower vital.
“You’re welcome.” Julian crosses the living room and grabs his keys from the coffee table. “Remember what I told you after you graduated college? I know you don’t want to hear it again but I’m going to say it. Stop being so stubborn and get something part-time for now, or change your attitude and your salary expectations and you’ll be surprised how quickly you land a job.” I have no smart retort because I chose to ignore his advice the first time around. I won’t make the same mistake again. “On to me. I landed another client today. My new boss is over the moon.”
“Congrats.” I run my palm along my jaw. “Your charm serves you well. So where are you off to?”
“I’ve got a date.” He laughs, correcting himself. “It’s not really a date. More like hanging out at that tavern pool bar in town.”
“Oh yeah?” I consider plucking an apple from the bowl on the kitchen table, but my mind says too healthy and I head for my room instead. “With who?”
“Ember.”
My feet halt on the stairs, fingers tightening in a death grip around the banister. Suddenly I’m off-balance. She said she didn’t find him charming. My mind becomes hazy, jaw set in a hard line. Somehow my words manage not to betray whatever the hell is going on inside my body.
“Ember? I didn’t think she was into the male species that way.”
“I ran into her after my meeting in town this afternoon and asked if she—”
“Hey, Julian.”
“Oh, hey.” His voice sounds off, nervous almost. “I was just coming to get you.”
“I had to drop something off at the Lancaster’s. Figured I’d walk.”
I pin my sights on Ember. That dress she was wearing is gone, back to jeans and a snug t-shirt that encases her small but perfect breasts. Her face is scrubbed free of makeup, save for a bit of lip gloss, hair slicked back in a ponytail. What bothers me the most is she seems excited or something. I can’t quite put my finger on it.
She finally glances up, noticing me, and the air shifts. I wonder if she feels it, or if it’s just me.
I try to keep my tone light. “Hey, Mickey.”
“Hi Vance.” Her lips do that half tilt in the corners and she’s too fucking cute. Then I inwardly tell myself to shut the fuck up because she’s going out with Julian—even if it is just to ‘hang out.’
“Okay. Well, you kids have fun.” I rush the words out through gritted teeth and rip my gaze away, climbing the few steps necessary to reach my room. Once I cross the threshold, I slam the water bottle down on my desk and march to the window. My scowl grows as I watch Julian round the car to open her door. Before Ember gets in, she briefly looks up and our eyes lock. I should back away—but I can’t. She breaks the stare first, ducking her head and finding a spot on the front seat.
I can’t help thinking she’s with the wrong guy—wishing that I was the right guy.
SURROUNDED BY TWINKIE wrappers, I’m sitting on the carpet strumming my guitar. I’ve been trying to compose something for over two hours but I can’t get the arrangement to work. I’m too distracted. My mind cluttered with shit, wandering to where it shouldn’t be. Frustrated, I push to my feet and set the guitar beside the bed. At my desk, I flip the switch on the iPod dock then jump on the mattress, lying back with my hands laced behind my head. The digital clock reads 9:00—too early for them to come home. A peculiar lump settles like a boulder in my stomach. I wish it would go the fuck away.
The book on the side table seems like a good distraction. But when I pick it up, I stare at the same two pages for far too long. As if the world is taunting me, that song Ember liked in the car comes on, the sound of her squeaky voice as she sang along plays in my head—and that’s the last straw. I can’t sit here twiddling my thumbs anymore.
I slide off the bed and yank
the chair back from my desk. It snags on the carpet before my ass lands on the seat and I power up my laptop. My fingers move restlessly over the keys as I wait for it to boot. When it does, I search Google and type in ‘Eastmoreland pool bars.’ Several are listed, though only one is considered a tavern and located in the center of town—easier than I thought. Of course it takes me another ten minutes to get off the freaking chair, debating whether or not this is a good idea. In the end, I convince myself I’m entitled to show up. He said they were only hanging out. It’s not like I’ll be a third fucking wheel.
A hot shower invigorates me, as does finally getting my car returned. Back to normal, my Mustang roars to life and I reverse out of the driveway to head into town. Since it’s the weekend, I have to circle the block many times before I find a freaking space. Humidity hangs thick in the air as I climb out, bypassing a bunch of dudes lighting up and blowing smoke rings into the black sky.
I push through a vintage wooden door leading to a darkened space packed with people. From what I can see, the front area houses a bar, arranged seating, and a handful of booths near the back. In an adjacent room, pool tables are set up with games already in progress. To my right, couples hang all over each other on a self-made dance floor. I scan the area to find no sign of Julian or Ember. The music is a deafening beat anyway, and would make it difficult to get their attention. For a second, I consider maybe they decided to go elsewhere which means I’m pretty much screwed.
A firm hand squeezes my shoulder and I turn around to discover Julian leering at me. “I was wondering how long it was going to take you to show up.”
“Huh?”
“I said,” he shouts, cupping a hand over my ear. “I was wondering how long it was going to take you to show up.”
I back away with eyes narrowed to mask my grin. “I heard you the first time. And you can wipe that smug expression off your face. You planned this whole fucking thing, didn’t you?”
Julian shrugs, playing it off as completely innocent. It might work if I didn’t know him so well. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”