by Amy Sparling
More awkward silent minutes pass, and I start to wonder why he bothered inviting me over if he didn't want to talk. All he's doing is texting. He didn't text at all when we watched a movie together. “You okay?” I ask. “You're being super quiet.”
He shrugs. “I'm fine. I'm just…I don't know.”
I lean forward in my chair. “You might as well let it out. It's not like you have anyone else to talk to.” I glance at the phone in his hand. “Well, anyone who's physically here.”
He turns toward me, studying my face. The muscles in his jaw flex. He slides the phone back in his pocket. “I'm not gonna babble on like some kind of child,” he says, taking a stick and poking at the fire. “But, if you have to know, I guess you could just say I've totally ruined my life. I'm stuck. I don’t know where to go from here.”
“You're eighteen,” I say. “Your life isn't over yet. Just like how I know my life isn't technically over, but it sure feels like it.”
He drops the stick and leans back in his chair. “What's so bad about your life?” he asks in a condescending tone.
“Well for starters I'm stuck here all summer. Do I even need to go on?”
He snorts. “Please do.”
I suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I'm stuck here all summer without my friends, I'm grounded from everything including my phone which is killing me, and my sort of boyfriend just officially became my not-boyfriend.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Sort of boyfriend? How is that a thing? Did he ask you to be his sort of girlfriend?”
I shake my head. “Screw you. I don't want to talk about it.”
His phone beeps again, but he ignores it. “How did you get grounded?”
I cross my arms and stare into the fire. “I don't want to talk about that either.”
“Okay I'll go.” Jace pops the knuckles on his left hand and then his right. “I just lost a two million dollar contract over a fucking girl.”
My mouth falls open. He continues. “I had just signed to ride with a factory sponsorship when I lost it all because I got thrown in jail. My agent says there's no way in hell they will give me the contract again now that I'm out. Apparently motocross is a family sport and they don't think my bad attitude fits in with the family vibe.”
I picture the magazine article in the gas station. I knew he was a big deal if he's in magazines, but I had no idea he was a two million dollar big deal. “Wait,” I say. “How does a girl play into this?”
“I was in jail for four months on an assault charge,” he says somberly, ignoring a phone beep once again.
My heart races as I try to ask the question I'm thinking but no words come out of my mouth. Jace doesn't seem like he's a violent person…but what if he is? “Did you…” I start, unable to make myself finish the sentence. Beat up your girlfriend?
With a sigh, Jace takes out his phone again and skims through all the messages he ignored. My heart aches, wishing I had my own phone back. I have no idea how people survived before phones existed.
“He was a guy I raced with, and he pissed me off. He got what he deserved.”
“Did you hurt him?”
He stares at me, unwilling to answer. “Oh my god,” I say. “What'd you do to him?”
He waves his hand through the air. “He was fine. I just taught him a lesson.” He throws his head back and stares at the night sky. A laugh escapes him. “At least I thought I taught him a lesson. He may have fucked my girlfriend but in the end, I'm the one who got fucked.”
“I'm sorry,” I say, feeling like I'm intruding on his very private emotions. I shouldn't have asked him to talk. He lifts his hands and covers his face, dragging them slowly through his hair. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was holding back tears. “She never should have done that to you.”
I rack my mind for something comforting to say. He looks at me. “No, she shouldn't. But he knew what he was doing. I was his competition, and he got rid of me.” He shrugs his shoulders in defeat. “Smart guy.”
I kick at the small bits of firewood near my feet. “So when you got out of jail you banished yourself to Salt Gap, Texas?”
Jace nods. “I've officially owned the place ever since I turned eighteen. I never came out to see it because I was too busy. I never understood why a man I'd never met would leave me everything he owned…but maybe he knew I'd need it someday.”
He grabs his IPad off the plastic table next to him and searches for a new song to play. “I'm sick of this playlist. I think it's time for some online radio, eh?”
My heart skips a beat. “You have WiFi on that thing?”
He nods, his eyes going wide a second later. “Why are you giving me that look?” he asks.
I lean forward in my chair, clasping my hands together in front of my chest. “Do you think…maybe I could… um...?” He rolls his eyes, probably guessing what I'm going to say. “Could I check my Facebook? Please, just real fast?”
He pulls the IPad toward his chest and gives me a condescending glare. “Do you think your mother would approve of that?”
“Come on, Jace, pleeease?” I make my best puppy dog face. He laughs and tosses the IPad to me. I catch it and pull up the Facebook app before he can change his mind. The pretty icon at the top of the screen shows me that I have one new message, hopefully a detailed list from Becca of everything I've missed back at home. I touch it and my heart falls to my stomach.
It's from Ian.
Hey Beautiful. I got your note at work. Your mom the world's biggest bitch, but it's probably a good thing that you aren't here…some stupid shit is going on. I'm not going to get into details because it will probably be over by the time you read this. I know you're grounded, but something tells me you'll find a way to sneak online. Give me a shout when you're back in town. I miss that cute face of yours.
My face flushes red and I glance up, hoping Jace isn't watching me, but he isn't even in his chair. He must have gone in the house while I read Ian's message. I start typing a reply, but then I think better of it. Guys don't want to hear girls whine and complain all the time. I'll play it cool. I mean, I'm supposed to hate him now, right? So why does his stupid message give me butterflies?
I erase my original reply and type something short and cute instead.
Having a blast in Salt Gap, Texas. LOL. See ya.
Warm breath touches my neck and I jump, almost throwing the iPad in the air. “Dammit, Jace you scared me!” I swat at him with my free hand. He laughs. I've been standing here a while, but you were so damn immersed in writing to your boy toy that you didn't notice.”
A lump forms in my throat. “He's not my boy toy,” I murmur under my breath.
Jace falls back into his chair with a sigh. “Whatever you say, Bayleigh. You should forget that dude. You're better than him.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You should forget that girl, then.” He starts to object but I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “You've been texting her all night. So, maybe you shouldn't be the one lecturing.”
He holds up his hands in surrender. “You're right,” he says matter of factly. “I won't text her again. It's not worth it. All we're doing is reminding each other how much we don't get along.”
We share a triumphant smile, both of us happy with our new decision. “I'm glad you're here,” he says, handing me an unopened can of soda. “I came here to take my mind off things but it's hard when I'm all alone.”
“Glad I could be of service,” I say with a wink. Oh gosh. A wink? What is wrong with me?
A chat window pops up in the middle of the screen. It isn't from Facebook—it's from a messages app under Jace's account.
The username is Loren and the avatar is of a beautiful strawberry blonde girl with sun kissed skin. The message says, “I'll do whatever it takes to win you back.”
I glance over at Jace, the beautiful boy who lives next door to me for the summer. His eyes are closed, his neck resting on the back of the chair as he faces the stars. He looks serene, h
appy. Not stressed out like he was earlier.
I delete the message.
Chapter 13
I may or may not spend the entire day peeking through my balcony window, hoping to see Jace outside, wearing those funny-looking dirt bike pants. And I may or may not jump at every single noise, every car passing by, and every grunt of disapproval my grandfather makes at the off chance that it's really the sound of Jace's dirt bike starting up.
I can't exactly call him because I don't have a phone and even if I did, I don't have his number. It's funny that he's so ridiculously close to me, yet so far away. I wonder if Grandma has a carrier pigeon I could send.
Grandma drinks a cup of coffee in the living room, a roll of yarn bobbing along the floor as she crochets. I plop down next to her and watch as her knobby fingers work the metal hook through the yarn, growing her creation more with each stitch.
“That's really cool,” I say after a few minutes. Our house is filled with Grandma's throw blankets and doilies, but I've never put any thought into how they're made. She flexes her fingers, wincing from the arthritis and continues crocheting. It's a labor of love, no doubt.
“I could teach you,” she says, continuing to loop and hook the yarn while she looks at me.
“I don't know, that looks really hard.” Maybe something hard is what I need right now, to take my mind off the boredom.
Grandma shakes her head. “It only looks hard. I could have you making granny squares in ten minutes.”
“Granny squares?” I laugh. “That sounds lame. Do you have any teenager squares you could teach me?”
Grandma playfully slaps me in the arm and then hands me a pink metal hook and a ball of multicolored yarn.
It took way longer than ten minutes, but I finally got the hang of this granny square thing. It's essentially the same few stitches over and over, and the yarn I'm using cycles between pinks, purples and blues that look pretty on the finished piece. Technically, the squares are supposed to be a few inches wide and then you make a bunch of them and stich them together to make a blanket. But I opt to just keep going around and around, making my square as big as it can be.
A few hours and several soap operas later, I have a mini lap blanket and my mind is completely off thinking about Jace.
Well, you know…mostly.
The doorbell rings, a loud ding dong that thunders throughout the whole house, making me jump. Grandma pats my leg as if to comfort me, and gets up to see who's at the door. It's probably one of their old people friends, so I keep working on my crochet. I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm loving making this blanket. It's cool to see something productive come out of my time that would otherwise be wasted.
“Oh, hello.” Grandma's startled voice makes me look up. I can't see who's on the other side of the door. What if it's a robber or a scam artist or someone who preys on elderly people? I pull the yarn off my dull crochet hook, gripping it tightly in my hand as I stand, my heart racing. I'm not equipped to fight off an intruder, but neither is Grandma. She closes the door and calls for my Grandpa. She looks concerned, but she doesn't lock the door.
“Who is it?” I whisper. She waves a hand for me to sit down. Grandpa emerges from the kitchen holding a steaming cup of coffee.
“There's someone here to see you,” Grandma says, nodding toward the door.
Grandpa pulls open the door with a friendly smile on his face. I can't see who's on the other side.
“Good afternoon, sir.”
Grandpa's smile fades into a hard glare. I still can't see who the visitor is, but my stomach twists into knots as I recognize the voice. Jace must have a death wish.
Grandpa slips through the front door and closes it behind him, leaving him and Jace on the front porch. I notice Grandma peering at me over the top of her glasses and she walks back to the couch and sits down. I let out a casual sigh and pretend I'm not at all freaking out about why Jace is here. Whatever the reason, it can't possibly be good.
Chapter 14
Five decades seem to pass in the thirty minutes that follow. My crochet loops don't make sense anymore, because all I can concentrate on are the two men on the porch who are talking about things I can't hear. Grandma doesn't appear concerned, but she doesn't know what I know.
What if he found that I deleted his ex-girlfriend's iPad message? What if he's ratting me out for using his phone and internet? As much as I like Jace, I don't exactly know him that well. He may not be on my side at all.
The door opens and Grandpa comes inside, alone. I try catching a glimpse through the open door but I don't see Jace. “What was that about?” I ask, trying to sound casual. Grandpa isn't fuming mad—or at least he doesn’t look like it.
He takes a seat in his recliner across from where Grandma sits on the couch. “That boy next door sure had a lot to say,” he tells her, glancing at me for a split second before returning his gaze to Grandma.
“Did he?” she asks, sounding unconcerned as she continues her crochet. The anticipation nearly kills me, but I can't exactly beg for him to talk faster. I stare at my yarn ball until the fibers get blurry.
“He came over to apologize for being a reckless heathen who disregarded Richard's property.”
I lift an eyebrow and peek at him. He watches me as he continues, “Well, those weren't exactly his words, but that's the gist of it.”
Grandma smiles. “That's wonderful news, honey. Maybe he won't make your blood pressure go up so much now.”
Grandpa snorts and takes a sip of his coffee. “He said he never knew his grandfather and he invited me to come over and take any of Richard's belongings that might have some importance to me. I told him that was awfully kind of him, and that Richard had some fishing poles that were sentimental to me. I'm going over there this afternoon.”
I can't help but smile. When I first told Jace that my grandpa didn't like him, I expected Jace to be angry about it. Instead, he came over to apologize. I can't picture Ian doing the same thing, were he in Jace's position.
“What ya smiling for, girl?” Grandpa peers at me over his cup of coffee.
I shrug. “No reason. That was just nice of Jace to do that. He never meant to piss you off in the first place.”
“Ladies don't use words like that,” Grandma chides me.
“Sorry,” I say, trying not to laugh. She'd die if she heard the words I used that are way worse than piss. Grandpa must know what I'm thinking because he winks at me.
“That boy is fond of you,” Grandpa says. I almost choke on my own spit.
“What do you mean by that?” I stammer.
He shrugs. “He asked permission to take you to the county fair tonight. Seems he probably likes you a lot if he had the guts to ask me.” He leans back in his chair while I turn a deep shade of red. “But what do I know? I'm just an old man.”
Jace climbs out of his soccer mom rental car and holds the door open for me. I roll my eyes and slip into the passenger seat. “What's with all the formality?” I ask, poking him in the arm when he gets in the car next to me. “You don't strike me as a gentleman.”
“Hey now, jerk,” Jace laughs. “I may not be a gentleman, but I know better than to show my true colors when a girl's grandfather is watching me through the window.”
“What!” I look toward the house, and sure enough, two fingers pull down the blinds in the front window, watching our every move. “I'm sorry about that,” I say.
Jace smiles and backs out of the driveway. “If I had a daughter, I wouldn't let her go at all.”
“Are you saying you're a bad influence?” I ask him playfully.
“Yep.” He reaches over and squeezes my knee. Unlike Ian, Jace doesn't let his hand rise up any further than that. “I am the worst kind of influence. Especially when it comes to all the junk food we're gonna eat tonight.”
The county fair is exactly what I expected, despite having never been here before. The fairgrounds share land with the county rodeo, so the air reeks of horse poop and hay bales mixed wi
th the scent of kettle corn and sausages on a stick.
Jace buys two tickets and we get our hands stamped by an elderly woman in a wheelchair. The stamp is shaped like the state of Texas, with a blue dot over where Salt Gap would be. We walk through a barn that's been converted into several vender booths, selling things from handmade cowhide purses to paintings of Indian chiefs to body jewelry. For once, I don't care that I don't have any money. There's nothing worth buying here.
Jace and I walk shoulder to shoulder through the crowds of people who all seem to have their own agenda: the children ride the rides, the men drink beer and stare at the women, the women flirt and laugh and find ways to eat cotton candy seductively. I think I'm the only girl here who isn't wearing cut off jean shorts and some kind of plaid pearl snap shirt.
I glance at Jace in his dark wash jeans and black T-shirt with a fox head logo on it. “I'm surprised they let us in,” I say. “We're not exactly the type of people who come here.”
Jace takes my hand and pulls me around a blue plastic trashcan that's overflowing with paper food wrappers and beer cans. “Speak for yourself. I'm wearing my genuine leather chaps under these jeans.”
I look at his legs. “Really?”
He laughs and leads me toward the carnival game booths. “Better watch out, your gullible is showing.”
Jace buys us several rounds of carnival games, despite me telling him they're totally rigged. He throws a dozen baseballs at a triangle of stacked bottles and doesn't hit them once. I lose count of how many rings I throw at a painted red tube, but none of them go over it.
The carnie at the balloon booth calls us over. “Stop lettin' Kevin rip ya off,” he shouts over the carnival music. “I'll give ya five darts for a dollar. That way you can win somethin' for yer sweetie.”
“I ain't ripping nobody off!” says the carnie at the ball booth as he pockets another twenty dollar bill from Jace. Jace looks at me and gives me devilish smile. “What do you say…sweetie? Want me to win you something?”