Flirting With Fame (Flirting With Fame)

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Flirting With Fame (Flirting With Fame) Page 21

by Samantha Joyce


  “For the accident? Yes. For lying to me about it all these years? Well, we’re gonna have to work on that. But I love you, El. Despite everything. And I wish you’d known I would’ve been here for you.”

  I leaned against the pole of the playset. “I know. But you were hurting so much when she died. And suddenly I was this freak that nobody wanted to be around. I couldn’t take you hating me, too.”

  I could never hate you, he signed. Sometimes I want to slap you for doing things without thinking them through, but that’s for your own good.

  I probably deserve it.

  Yes, you probably do. Now, get over here.

  Are you gonna slap me? I signed.

  You’ll have to come here and find out.

  Jin rose to his knees and I did the same. He pulled me into his chest and I wrapped my arms around him, letting his body warm mine. When he released me, his mouth was a hard line.

  There’s one other thing, he signed.

  What’s that?

  I don’t think we should tell my parents.

  I couldn’t hide my surprise. Why not?

  “It was hard enough for them, losing Annie,” he said. “Let them stay somewhat content with it being nothing more than a freak accident beyond anyone’s control. They don’t need old, painful feelings brought to the surface.”

  “Okay.” I nodded. “If you’re sure.”

  “I am.”

  He stood and took my hand, prying me from the sand. We left the park without a word, both of us lost in thought. Then something occurred to me.

  “Hey,” I said. “You haven’t told me enough about Zach. How in the world did you meet a biology major?”

  “Oh, Elise.” He draped an arm over my shoulder. “That’s a story that’s going to require a lot of pumpkin pie and ice cream.”

  It took us the rest of the weekend to make a significant dent in the masses of food we had stockpiled at my house. And, even then, Jin and Zach cradled Tupperware with leftover turkey and pie when I dropped them off at the airport Sunday evening.

  I opened the window again as I drove back to town, letting the cool breeze lift the anxiousness bubbling in my stomach at the thought of returning to routine. Grabbing my overnight bag and some foil-wrapped food from my trunk—Tupperware was reserved for those who had to fly, according to my mother—I headed across campus to my dorm.

  The trees had surrendered their leaves weeks ago, and I shivered as I walked briskly between them. My breath came out in white puffs, a clear reminder that it was time to change into a heavier coat.

  When I entered my room, my bag dropped to the floor.

  “Reggie! You’re back!”

  She jumped and spun to face me. “Don’t get all excited. I’m just getting my stuff. Clint’s driving back now and he’s gonna pick me up. I’m going to live with him and his roommates at their house.”

  “Oh.” I picked up the bag from the floor and heaved it onto my bed. “Well, did you at least have a good Thanksgiving?”

  She stopped tossing clothes into her suitcase and stood with one hand on her hip. “Look, Elise, or Aubrey, or whatever your name is, I’m not interested in small talk. I just wanna pack and get out of here.”

  “Reggie, this is dumb. So what if I’m Aubrey? It’s just a pen name. I’m still Elise. I’m the same girl who was your roommate and friend. That hasn’t changed.”

  “Oh, really?” She slammed the suitcase shut. “A friend doesn’t lie to your face. A friend doesn’t spend night after night listening to you talk about your favorite books and not even mention she was the one who wrote them.”

  “I know,” I said. “And I’m sorry. It was me being stupid and insecure. Please tell me how I can make this better.”

  “You can’t.”

  She hauled her suitcase off the bed and the floor vibrated beneath me as it made contact. Something blinked behind her and she turned from me to answer the beckoning phone.

  Her back went rigid and her shoulders tensed. Then she dropped the phone. It shattered on the floor, the back disappearing somewhere beneath her bed. She didn’t move.

  “Reggie?” I stood and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

  She turned to me, her eyes filled with tears. “That was Clint’s mom.”

  My body grew cold. “Oh my God. What happened?”

  “She . . . she said he was in an accident.”

  My stomach turned to acid and the bitter taste coursed up my throat. “Is he okay?”

  “She doesn’t know. They’re already at the airport waiting for a flight. I . . . I have to get to the hospital.”

  “Of course.” I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She trembled against me. Her face was a scary shade of white. “I’ll drive you.”

  Reggie didn’t even protest as I led her out of the dorm and to my car. She spoke only when I asked what hospital he was at. I glanced at her every so often as we drove. Her hands wrung together in her lap, not even bothering to wipe at the tears that doused her cheeks.

  When we got to the hospital, I led her to a row of seats and went to the front desk. The stern woman in reception told me only family was allowed to inquire about Clint’s condition. I argued with her and told her his parents called us, but she wouldn’t back down. I gritted my teeth in frustration and hurled myself into one of the plastic chairs. Google informed me a flight from Chicago to Ohio took about an hour, but who knew how long Clint’s parents would have to wait to get through security, actually get on a plane, then grab a cab to the hospital. It wasn’t fair that our friend had to be alone until then. Stupid hospital.

  My roommate sat like a zombie beside me for the next couple of hours, her face barely registering the green walls and too-bright fluorescent lighting. The stinging scent of disinfectant assaulted my nostrils and I wrinkled my nose. I wriggled in my seat to bring feeling back into my bottom.

  My phone vibrated against my leg and I told Reggie I’d be back. She didn’t respond. I wandered around a corner and pulled my phone from my pocket, hoping maybe it was a text from Clint telling me this was all some sort of stupid joke. That he was actually back in our dorm room waiting to greet us with his usual hugs. The name glowing on the screen almost took my breath away. Gavin.

  I opened his message.

  GAVIN: Can I see you now? We need to talk.

  I frowned and the image of him kissing Leila flashed through my mind.

  ME: Can’t. At the hospital. Clint was in an accident.

  GAVIN: Oh my God. I’m sorry. Is he okay?

  A couple rushed past me, almost knocking me over, and I bit my lip to keep from cursing at them. No one needed to be yelled at in this place. My fingers worked the keyboard on my phone.

  ME: Dunno. They won’t tell us anything ’cause we’re not family. We’ve been waiting forever. Reggie’s freaking out. She looks like a coma patient.

  GAVIN: What hospital you at?

  I told him but explained, again, it was not the time for us to talk. I assured him I’d update him when we had news. Pocketing my phone, I tried once again with Nurse Ratched and took my seat as she blew me off one more time. Reggie’s head was bowed, her eyes never wavering from the ivory floor.

  I took her hand in mine. Her fingers were cold as ice and I wrapped my other hand around hers, trying to bring some of her warmth back.

  “You know he’s gonna be okay, right?” I said. “It’s Clint. He’s a giant cowboy. Of course he’s going to be fine.”

  She turned to me, her eyes wide and red-rimmed. “How do you know?”

  “I just do. Clint isn’t the kind of guy to leave a girl like you. He’s more of a gentleman than that.”

  Her chest heaved with a sob and she buried her face in my shoulder. I lifted my arm and pulled her into a sideways hug, letting her rest her head on my sternum. Her body shuddered be
side me, and I clutched her for so long, my arm began to go numb.

  Over an hour later, someone tapped me and I looked up, hoping the nurse had come to her senses. My eyes widened as they met Gavin’s furled eyebrows.

  “Hey,” he said. “You okay?”

  I shook my head. “They won’t tell us anything. We just want to know what’s going on.”

  “Hang on.”

  He squeezed my shoulder and stepped toward the reception area. I hugged Reggie tightly as he bent over the desk and smiled at the nurse. He said something, but she flicked him away with a wave of her wrist, focused solely on her computer. Gavin bent lower and spoke again. I angled myself to try to get a better view of his lips, but he had turned too far from me.

  The nurse finally looked up from her work and her eyes widened so much, I became concerned they were going to pop right out of her head. Her face took on a deep crimson color, and her mouth formed only what appeared to be stammers. Gavin ran his fingers through his hair and she fanned her hand in front of her face like she might faint right there. Then she nodded and blurted out something about “down the hall.”

  She handed Gavin a pen and paper. He signed the sheet and slid it across the desk as she whipped a phone from her ample bosom. Gavin leaned over and she snapped a picture as he pressed against her cheek. I would’ve rolled my eyes if I weren’t so concerned for Clint and too busy rocking the shaking Reggie.

  Gavin sauntered back over to us.

  “Come on,” he said, grabbing Reggie’s other arm so we could pull her out of the chair. “It’s this way.”

  We followed him down a white corridor, and I focused only on the back of his head, as opposed to the people occupying beds in the rooms to either side of me. Seeing this place brought back too many memories of the months I’d spent in the hospital all those years ago.

  “Does stuff like that happen all the time?” I asked.

  Gavin looked over his shoulder. “Like what?”

  “You flash a smile and get whatever you want?”

  His jaw tensed as he scanned my body. I shifted under his scrutiny. “I don’t always get what I want, Elise.”

  “Right.”

  Gavin followed a sign to the right and led us into a room a few shades greener than the emergency area we’d spent the last few hours in. A middle-aged couple stood in the center of the room, clinging to one another like they would fall over if they let go. I instantly recognized them from earlier. The couple who’d bumped into me when I’d been texting Gavin. Now I knew why they’d been in such a hurry. I breathed a sigh of relief that I hadn’t told them off.

  The man was easily identifiable as Clint’s dad. He had the same tall frame and crystal-blue eyes. His face was still boyish, save for a few lines around his eyes and mouth. The woman, who I assumed to be Clint’s mother, was much shorter than her husband. Her hair was the same sandy-brown as Clint’s, but that was about the only thing I could find similar between the two of them.

  The couple looked up at us, surprise and panic on their faces as we entered. I looked to Reggie to see if she’d ever met them in person, but she still clung to my shoulder so tightly, I was pretty sure I’d have marks the next day.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Harrison, we’re friends of Clint’s.” I left Reggie leaning on Gavin and held out my hand. Clint’s mother’s grip was so weak, I dared not squeeze her hand too hard for fear of crushing her fingers. “I’m Elise. I’m in American Lit with your son. And this is Reggie. She’s . . . uh . . .”

  “The girlfriend!” Clint’s father finished for me. He grabbed Reggie and pulled her into a hug. This seemed to break her out of her trance and she wrapped her arms around him.

  “Clint told us so much about you over the holidays,” Mrs. Harrison said to Reggie’s back. “He’s really taken with you, honey. And if our son loves you, we love you, too.”

  I raised my eyebrows at Gavin.

  Love? I signed.

  Gavin shrugged.

  Clint’s father released my roommate and held out a palm to Gavin. “And who might you be? Do you also go to school with our boy?”

  I clenched my jaw to stop a spontaneous laugh from spurting into the melancholy room. How was it possible there were still people who didn’t know who Gavin Hartley was? Did Clint’s family live in a parallel universe where anyone could be a cowboy and famous actors were normal members of society? Gavin took Mr. Harrison’s hand and shook his head.

  “I’m just a friend, sir.”

  “John,” the older man said. “Please, all of you, call me John. And this is my wife, Tina. Come, let’s sit down. We aren’t doing anyone any good standing around.”

  “Have you heard anything?” I asked as I took a seat. The chairs in this room were padded with faded brown corduroy, but were slightly more comfortable than the plastic chairs of evil in the emergency room.

  I sat across from Reggie, Tina, and John so I could easily see what they had to say. Gavin plopped down beside me and tried to take my hand. I grabbed my fingers back and sat on them. He cocked his head at me but said nothing.

  “All we know is they had to take him to emergency surgery,” John said. “They haven’t told us anything else.”

  “Do you know what happened?” I asked.

  Tina dabbed at her eye with a ratted Kleenex. “They told us when he was driving back to school from the airport, he stopped to help a woman on the side of the road with a flat tire.”

  “That sounds like Clint,” I mumbled. Gavin placed a hand on my knee and I crossed my legs. His palm slipped off my jeans.

  “Apparently, when he was at the side of the road, a car came out of nowhere and—”

  Clint’s mother buried her face in her hands and Reggie wrapped an arm around her. The two sobbed against each other.

  I clutched my stomach as my body shuddered with the exertion of trying to hold in all my emotions. A strong arm wrapped around my shoulders. This time, I didn’t shrug Gavin away.

  It felt like days, but was actually only hours, before a doctor came in to update us on Clint’s condition.

  “He’s stable,” the doctor said. “He’ll live. But he’s going to have to do some rehab, and some big changes are going to have to happen . . .”

  I closed my eyes and shut out the man in white so I could search for my own breath and tell my shuddering heart to slow down.

  After I felt somewhat calm, I focused on the doctor. He informed us Clint was sleeping and would remain out of it for a couple of days. But we could go see him quickly. His parents went first.

  When they came back, their faces were red and splotchy.

  I turned to Reggie. “You want to go alone? I can stay out here.”

  She looked at me with her face tilted, then shook her head. “No, I want you to come with me. I could use a friend.”

  The lower half of my body had grown numb after hours in the chair, and I crinkled my toes in my shoes to wake them up before taking Reggie’s hand and heading down the hall. When we got to Clint’s door, we both stopped.

  Reggie’s hair poked out of her ponytail in every direction. Her cheeks were tinged pink and her eyes were wide.

  “I’m scared,” she said.

  “It’s okay. I’m here. You can do this.”

  The room smelled like disinfectant and lemon Pledge, making my eyes water. Clint shared the space with an elderly gentleman who slept with his mouth open. The rise and fall of the senior’s chest and the blinking machines around him were the only indication he was still alive.

  Clint lay beyond a yellow curtain that hung from the center of the room, and my body tensed as we passed it. My hand tightened around Reggie’s when I saw him. Reggie released my fingers and grabbed me by the waist, burying her face into my chest. Her sobs rocked us both.

  I stared at Clint, trying to understand what had done this to my friend. Tubes sprou
ted from his mouth and nose. An IV snaked up one arm. And the other arm . . .

  The other arm was missing a hand. Bandages covered the stump, already tinged with red. Similar bandages wrapped around part of his face. Purple lined his eyes and etched along the one cheek left uncovered. His face had swelled to twice its size.

  “No,” I whispered. “They said he was fine.”

  The doctor came around the curtain and I jumped at the sudden appearance of his body next to mine. “He is fine. He’ll make a full recovery.”

  “He’s missing a hand,” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “And his face is cut up.”

  “Sure. But he’s alive. And there’s nothing saying he can’t live a normal life, despite this.”

  Reggie unlocked herself from my waist and stepped cautiously toward the bed. She looked back at us.

  “Can I hold his hand?” She swallowed. “His . . . his good hand?”

  “Of course,” the doctor said. “But you only have five minutes. Then you need to go. You can come back tomorrow.”

  I tapped Reggie’s shoulder. “I’m gonna give you some privacy, okay? You come get me when you’re ready to leave.”

  She nodded and sank into a chair beside the bed, clutching Clint’s undamaged wrist in her hand.

  I slipped out of the room with the doctor, letting Reggie have some time with her boyfriend. Gavin leaned against the wall, his hands plunged into the pockets of what had to be designer black jeans.

  “How is he?”

  I shook my head. “He lost a hand, and he’s pretty banged up.”

  “Oh God.” Gavin touched my waist. I tried not to notice that he wore a purple button-down shirt that highlighted every muscle of his upper body. “Is there anything I can do?”

  I shook my head and pulled out of his grasp. “Thank you for coming down here and getting us back to see him, but I think you should go.”

  “Elise, I know this isn’t the time, but I needed you to know I’m not mad anymore. I thought about it, and I realize now you were scared and you made a mistake. I forgive you.”

 

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