by Amber Garza
“All of that isn’t bad,” she says. “It’s hanging out with my family that ruins it.”
“Hey.” I halt facing her. “If it’s really that bad, then don’t go.”
She gives me an exasperated look. “I have to. My parents are paying for my schooling and part of the deal is that I go home for every holiday and break.”
“But I hate the idea of you having to go there if it makes you miserable.”
“Life isn’t always fun,” she says matter of factly. This bothers me more than the rest of the conversation had. Lola doesn’t normally admit defeat like this.
“Then let me go with you,” I offer. “I’ll pay for my own ticket.”
“I can’t let you. It wouldn’t be fair for your mom to be alone on Christmas.”
“She’d understand.” I swipe my finger over her cheek.
She shifts her gaze away. “No. It’s not a good idea.” Before I can protest, she turns away from me. “I have to go. I’m gonna be late for class. I’ll see you later, Ryker.” She hurries away from me as if she can’t get away fast enough.
Lola and I find a seat toward the back of the theatre. I hold a giant tub of buttered popcorn in my hand, and Lola carries the large fountain soda in hers. My stomach drops when I think about how much money I spent on these two items. We sit down, and I balance the popcorn container in my lap. Lola sets down the soda and then finds my hand, closing her fingers around it. The lights dim.
I lean over and whisper in her ear, “I gotta tell you, I was not expecting you to choose a shoot ‘em up action movie.”
“Really? Why not? Do I strike you as the mushy romantic type?”
“No. But when you said movies were your way of escaping and finding peace, I kind of thought the movie would be…I don’t know…peaceful.”
Lola nudges my ribs with her elbow. “What fun would that be?”
“Seriously, you are every guy’s fantasy, you know that?”
“Am I?” She smiles.
“You’re a gorgeous girl who likes action films, and would rather go to a club than a fancy restaurant. Yeah, I’d say so.”
The previews start and a hush falls over the room. Lola squeezes my hand, and I squeeze hers back. When I peer over at her face, her lips are curled upward, her eyes wide. At this moment, I don’t care how much money I had to spend on this movie. It’s worth it to see her happy.
The movie is two hours of fight sequences, blood and shouting. It’s awesome. The kind of movie I normally go to with the guys. In fact, when the lights come back on I notice that Lola is one of the only girls in here. I release her hand, grab the empty popcorn container and stand up, working out the kinks in my legs.
“So, was it everything you’d hoped?” I ask.
She stands too, stretching her arms up above her head. “Yep. Thanks for taking me.”
“Any time.”
“I just might take you up on that.” She kisses me on the cheek. Then a couple that was further down our row comes up behind us.
Lola leans down, picking up her soda and then exits the aisle. I follow behind her. Once we get into the lobby we toss our empty containers and then link hands again. Our arms swing between us. A family with several rowdy children walks toward us, and we move over a bit to allow them room.
“Are you all ready for your trip?” I ask.
“You know me.” She flashes me a wry grin. “I’ve been packed for days.”
“Are you sure you don’t need me to drive you to the airport in the morning?” I push open the glass doors of the movie theatre and step outside, the sun blinding my vision.
“Nah, it’s just easier for me to drive us there. Besides, my parents don’t mind paying for me to leave my car there.”
I’m astounded at how easily her parents throw money around. They thought nothing of paying for her college, buying her a new car when she got here, and purchasing plane tickets every month for her to go home. From what Lola says, her parents are pretty distant in their behavior, but from what I can see they sure make up for it in the money they spend on her. The minute the thought enters my mind I feel a little guilty. I wouldn’t give up my mom’s attention and love for money. Sure, money’s nice, but it’s not everything.
15
Lola
“Nolan is coming to our Christmas eve party,” Mom says to me as we sit in the living room drinking hot tea together. “He was quite taken with you at Thanksgiving.”
My stomach tightens. I squirm in my seat. “Um…Mom…about that.” I set my teacup down on the coffee table.
Mom crosses her legs, and lifts her own teacup to her lips. I notice her hand trembling slightly. Sometimes I don’t notice how much older Mom is getting, but I can see it now in the spidery veins in her arms, the salt and pepper strands woven through her black hair, the wrinkles around her grey eyes. “Yes?”
“I’m not really sure I want to hang out with Nolan this week.” I avert my gaze, staring hard at the carpet near my feet. I swirl my sock clad foot over the thick ivory reeds. I’m glad that neither Dad nor Camille are home right now. Dad’s at work and Camille is at the mall with friends. The only sound in the house is of Consuela, our housekeeper, vacuuming upstairs and the grandfather clock ticking in the corner. Outside the large picture window the wind gently howls, and the trees sway slightly, shedding their leaves.
“Why? He’s such a nice young man and you got along beautifully during the last visit.”
I clear my throat, working up courage. “It’s just that I’m sort of seeing someone in Seattle.” There. I’ve said it. I feel a sense of relief at finally getting the words out.
“Really?” Mom raises her eyebrows and leans forward to put her teacup down on the coffee table. She sets it next to a few magazines and a vanilla candle. Then she straightens and narrows her eyes at me. “Well, tell me about this boy.”
I swallow thickly. “Um…his name is Ryker Collins.”
Mom’s nose scrunches, and it turns my stomach. Her hand finds her neck and she weaves a finger in and out of her strand of pearls. “Interesting name.”
Buying time, I slowly run a hand through my hair. “He’s in his last year of college, and he treats me really well. He’s very sweet.” I’m hoping I don’t have to say anything further.
“What is Ryker studying in school?” She drops the necklace and it falls right above her cream cardigan.
I sigh. “Business, actually.”
“And what does he plan to do with his business degree?” Mom looks down her nose at me.
The scent of lemon spray and bleach fill my nostrils. Mom’s teacup clangs as she picks it back up again.
I shrug. “Um…well…he’s not really sure.” When I see the look of disdain on her face I quickly add, “He’s a musician. He’s really talented.”
“What kind of musician? Is he in the orchestra or something?”
I snort before I can stop myself. The thought of Ryker in the orchestra is funny to me. “No, Mom, he’s in a rockband. He plays electric guitar.” When I picture Ryker on stage, his muscles bulging as his hands fly over his guitar, my insides flip, and for a moment I don’t care what Mom thinks about him.
“That’s great, Lola.” She smiles.
“What?” I sit back against couch cushions, stunned.
“I was in college once too, you know.” Mom lowers the teacup to her lap, resting it in the palm of her hand. “There were boys I dated before your dad. In some ways I think we all need to find our Ryker.”
My insides coil, knowing where she’s going with this. The fact that she’s cheapening what I have with Ryker hurts me more than her just disapproving of the whole thing.
“We all need that boy who’s just a fling. That bad boy who’s all wrong for us.” She leans forward, giving me a conspiratorial look. “I know you went to Seattle to sow your wild oats, Lola, and I’m okay with that. But you and I both know that you don’t have a future with this boy. Your future is with a guy like Nolan.”
; I want to tell her that she’s wrong. I want to tell her that Ryker is a good guy, and we can absolutely have a future together. However, I’m not sure that’s true. I like Ryker. A lot. But I’m not sure it’s smart for me to envision anything long term with him. I mean, do I really want to end up like Dana, living in a tiny little apartment and barely making ends meet? Maybe Mom’s right. Perhaps Ryker is just the guy I have a good time with. The guy I look back on when I’m old and saddled with a bunch of kids and remember fondly. My mind travels to Nolan. He’s smart, driven, and good looking. He’d be a perfect fit for me. The thing is that he doesn’t make my head spin. He doesn’t make my hands clam up and my pulse spike. He doesn’t make me heady with excitement.
Then again, love isn’t supposed to be explosive like that. Love is steady and stable.
“Yeah.” I nod at Mom. “You’re right.”
A large grin spreads across her face and I’m happy to have appeased her. But then Ryker’s face flashes in my mind and my stomach sours. He would be so hurt if he heard what I just said. He wants this relationship to last. He’s serious about us. If I don’t feel the same way about him, then I can’t keep stringing him along. It’s not fair. Feeling sickened at the thought of breaking things off with Ryker, I stand on shaky legs.
“Excuse me, I just have to use the restroom,” I say politely before escaping down the hall. The minute I reach the downstairs bathroom I fling myself inside and lock the door. Sinking to my knees, I lunge over the toilet seat. The relief comes almost immediately as the contents of my stomach make their way out of my throat and into the toilet. I didn’t even have to gag myself this time. Breathing deeply, I sit back and run a hand through my hair. I’m ashamed at what I just did, but I also feel a little better somehow. Forcing my unsteady legs to stand up, I press down on the toilet handle and wonder how I’ll survive an entire week here.
“Can I get you a drink?” Nolan sidles up next to me. He wears a collared shirt and khaki pants. I try to imagine Ryker in this get up and almost burst into a fit of giggles. If only he could be here with me. This party is so stuffy and boring. Then again, it’s not like I expected anything different. Every Christmas Eve is the same. Mom and Dad host a huge party with friends and family. It’s catered with food like shrimp cocktail, crab cakes, lobster and steak. Mom hires a piano player, and the music is so boring and mellow I want to take a nap. Everyone is so dressed up and formal, that I have the strange urge to jump up on the table and start dancing just to get a rise out of them.
One year my parents allowed me to spend Christmas Eve with Star’s family. Now that was a fun night. We watched Christmas movies and stuffed ourselves with popcorn and candy. I bet Star is enjoying herself tonight. Although I know she’s missing Beckett. Man, those two have sure moved fast. They started dating right after Thanksgiving and have been glued to each other’s side ever since.
“Sure,” I answer Nolan.
“Be right back.”
I sigh as he walks away. He’s a nice guy and he’s pretty good looking too, but he’s no Ryker. I groan, thinking about Ryker’s words about ruining me for all other guys. Is it true? Will I spend the rest of my life comparing every guy I meet to him? Catching my mom’s eye from across the room, I squirm. Her hair is pinned up with a few sparkly clips, and she wears a fire engine red dress. Her nails and shoes match it perfectly. Dad stands next to her in a suit, his arm draped over her shoulder. Only he’s not paying attention to her at all. He’s talking to some guy I don’t recognize. It seems that Mom is just an extension of him, like another limb, as she stands beside him stock still. Do I want to end up like Mom? Throwing stuffy parties and attending lunches at the country club every day? A woman who is nothing more than an extension of her rich husband?
My cell buzzes in my pocket, cutting into my internal thoughts. I glance down at it.
Miss u.
No sarcastic remark. No joke. Just two simple words, but they melt my heart. I start to type a biting response about him really just wanting my lipstick, but then I quickly erase it. I miss u 2. So much. My fingers hover over the send button for a moment.
“Here you go.” Nolan returns with a flute of champagne. I may not be of age, but my parents have never cared if I drink at our parties. I close my fingers around the stem of the glass, while using my other hand to shove my phone back in my pocket.
“Thanks.”
Nolan grins, holding up his glass. “Cheers, Lola.”
“Cheers.” I answer, clinking the side of my glass against his.
The rest of the night flies by in a flurry of champagne, presents, Christmas carols and food. It’s not until all the guests leave and I head upstairs to my room that I remember that I never sent that text to Ryker.
16
Ryker
I try not to let it bother me that Lola never returned the text I sent her on Christmas Eve. When I sent the text I didn’t really expect her to admit that she missed me, but I did expect her to say something. Anything.
Even though she finally did text me on Christmas Day, it wasn’t until late in the evening and all it said was “Merry Christmas”. Merry Christmas? Really? That’s it? Merry Christmas is what you send to your acquaintances, people you can easily discard. It’s not the thing you send to your boyfriend. It’s not what you text to the guy who loves you so much it hurts. Yes, I love Lola. I’ve known it for awhile. However, I haven’t told her yet. I don’t want to scare her away. But more than that, I don’t want to be hurt if she can’t say it back.
When I got Lola’s Merry Christmas text I didn’t even respond. I couldn’t. I was too angry. So I shoved my phone back in my pocket and pretended that she never texted at all. It was the last text she sent me.
Until today. This morning I woke up to this: I’m back.
I lie in bed staring it, wondering what I’m supposed to make of it. Does this mean she wants to see me? Or is she just informing me of her whereabouts?
Ok. It’s the only thing I can force my fingers to type. I want to text her back and ask what the hell her problem is. I want to ask her how she could go an entire week without talking to me; without having a conversation. I know that Beckett and Star spoke. Apparently she doesn’t forget about him when she goes back home, and they’ve been dating less time than Lola and I. A red flag pops up in my mind, and I wonder again if I’m fooling myself when it comes to this girl. Do I just want her so badly that it’s clouding my judgment?
The cell buzzes in my palm, skittering across my hand like an insect. Open your door.
I should be excited that she’s here, but instead I feel annoyed. Throwing off my covers, I fling my legs off the bed. Without bothering to get dressed, I head out into the hallway in my boxers. Pierce had an early shift at the coffee shop so he’s already left for work. After running a hand through my messy hair, I toss open the door.
Lola’s gaze lands on my bare chest and her mouth drops open. “Merry Christmas to me,” she says, her voice throaty and seductive.
Despite how angry I am, it still turns me on. She looks gorgeous in tight jeans and boots, her black hair sleek against her pale face. Her heart shaped lips are painted their usual bright red. However, I stay rooted in place. I make no move toward her. It’s her turn to come to me.
“Hi, Lola,” I finally say, my voice tight.
Her eyebrows knit together in a confused look. “Well, that’s an interesting way to greet me. What happened to the guy I’m dating? Can you find him?” She winks.
I lean against the doorframe. “Oh? Do you miss him, Lola?”
She steps back as if reeling from my words. Clearly she’s caught their double meaning. “Look, I’m sorry. When you texted I was just really busy. But I texted you on Christmas.”
I shake my head and step away from the door. If she chooses to follow that’s her deal. I’m not inviting her in. Let her come to me just this one time. Let her make the first move. I’m tired of it. Sinking down on the couch, I rest my head in my hands and groan in frus
tration.
The couch cushions slope from her weight when she joins me. Her sweet coconut scent winds around me. When her hand lights on my shoulder I flinch, and she pulls back.
“What’s going on?”
I glance up at her. “You tell me, Lola. It seems that you’re calling the shots here.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Anger explodes inside of me. “I send you a text saying that I miss you and you send me a text saying Merry Christmas? What’s that about?”
She wrings her hands in her lap, a conflicted look passing over her features. “What do you want from me?”
I shrug, pushing up off the couch. “I’m done telling you what I want, Lola. I think I’ve made my intentions pretty clear. It’s all up to you now.” Without looking at her again, I walk into my room and slam the door. Once inside, I lean against the wall and blow out a breath. I hear Lola’s footsteps, and I’m sure she’s leaving about now. A part of me wants to race out there and sweep her up into my arms, but I know I can’t do that. If she doesn’t want to be with me then I need to let her go. I’m already in too deep. I don’t need to sink any further if she’s not serious about us.
The door next to my head opens slowly. Lola’s head peeks in. I freeze, rolling my head to look at her.
“Ryker.” Her voice is barely above a whisper as she walks into my room. “I’m sorry.”
I don’t move from the wall. Instead I just study her from where I stand. She moves closer to me. With a trembling hand she reaches out and touches my chest. I fight to keep my breathing even as her fingers dance up my chest and rest at my neck. She slides her hands all the way up until they are framing my face. Her eyes collide with mine and I see sadness in hers. There’s no teasing gleam, no hint of joking. It causes my stomach to clench, and I wonder if this is when she’s going to say goodbye. But I stay still. I told her it was up to her now, and I meant it.
She steps forward until her chest is flush against mine. Her hands frame my face and she gently covers my lips with hers. My mouth responds to hers, betraying how desperately I want her. But I keep my arms pinned to my sides, despite how much they want to hold her.