“So did you,” I said, covering her hand with mine.
Her smile dimmed. “I’m still working on it, but hopefully I’ll get there one day.”
“You will, I don’t doubt it for a second.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’m going to help you,” I said, bringing her hand to my lips again. “We’re in this together.”
12 Nola
I stumbled into Powell Library, half-asleep. It was just after seven in the morning, and after working until midnight the night before, I felt barely alive. Instead of spending two hours on the bus, I splurged on a $25 cab ride to campus. The extra hour of sleep was worth every penny.
As I walked through the entrance of the enormous building that looked like something straight out of Hogwarts, I couldn’t believe my weekend of hell was just beginning. I still didn’t know how I was going to pull two back-to-back double shifts at the restaurant and deliver a paper Professor St. James wouldn’t hate, but I had no other option but to try.
After finding a spot and setting up my laptop, I snuck a handful of trail mix and quickly chugged down an extra strength 5-hour Energy Shot. Not quite a breakfast of champions, but it would have to do. I only had four hours to devote to my paper before I had to leave for work, so I needed to make the most of it.
I logged into Google Scholar and started searching for sources for my essay, but I couldn’t focus. My body seemed to trudge along in slow motion, and my brain felt like it was wading through a thick cloud of fog. I struggled to come up with the right combination of keywords for the search, but the only thing that came into sharp focus was Scout.
I had come so close to messing everything up when he dropped me off. I couldn’t help it, though; hearing about his parents broke my heart. I should have known Scout’s story was just as dreadful as mine, but I guess I hoped he had been spared that kind of trauma.
What’s the saying? Like attracts like? I didn’t need any more reminders that I was completely jacked up, but Scout was a beautifully complicated reminder that my life had been a series of terrible events. First, my dad died of a drug overdose, then my mother went crazy and forgot I was even there, and now I was quickly falling for a guy who was the absolute worst for me but somehow made me feel better than I’ve felt in years.
Maybe I’m addicted to Scout.
I mean, how else could I justify my feelings for him despite the very real risk of losing my head and ending up just like Sandy Jane? Falling in love with Scout could lead me down the same jagged path to crazytown my mother had traveled, but no matter how much I tried, I just couldn’t keep Scout from creeping into my mind. Whenever he called or sent texts I felt high, like I was floating on a cloud of sheer happiness; and when I expected to hear from him but didn’t, I felt so damn alone.
I hated that Scout had such an affect on me but I didn’t know how to kick the habit. Growing up, I’d never smoked weed or dropped E like the other kids, even when I wanted nothing more than to escape into something other than my messed up life. But Scout Clayborne was quickly becoming my drug of choice.
“Focus, Nola,” I told myself. I’d wasted a half hour replaying the scene in Scout’s car and kicking myself for not kissing him. I was so close to planting my lips on his and replacing some of his pain with a little pleasure. But I chickened out.
Scout hadn’t tried to kiss me, or even touch anything more than my hand or my leg, and I was starting to get a little worried.
It was stupid, and even though I knew we should just be friends, it bugged me that he hadn’t even tried to make a move. The few guys I had gone out with were usually pawing at me ten minutes into a date, but Scout and I had hung out a few times and he had always kept a respectful distance. It was both admirable and freaking frustrating.
“Dammit,” I muttered, mad at myself for letting my thoughts drift back to Scout again. I grabbed another handful of trail mix and refocused my attention on my laptop, but before I could commit to the task at hand my phone started to buzz. It was him.
I stepped into the hall to answer; aware I was already smiling. Damned addiction.
“Hey Scout. What’s up?”
“Morning beautiful. Just calling to see if you were up yet. What time should I bring over the coffee and croissants?”
“Shit,” I hissed. “I forgot to tell you.”
“Tell me what? Everything okay?”
“Sorta. I have to work a double shift today, so I got an early start. I’m already at the library.”
“Seriously? It’s not even eight. You took the bus?”
“No. I splurged on a cab.” I heard Scout exhale loudly on the other end of the line. “Yeah, exactly. But at least I got to sleep a little longer.”
“Damn, Nola, how come you didn’t call me? I would have given you a ride.”
“At six in the morning, Scout? That would be kinda crazy, don’t you think? Besides, you’ve done way too much for me already and I wasn’t going to interrupt your sleep. I’m barely making it myself,” I chuckled to lighten the mood.
I could tell Scout was annoyed, but I wasn’t sure if it was because he wanted to see me or if he felt slighted because I didn’t ask him for help. Either way, I couldn’t spend all my time with him, or obsessing about him. It would make kicking the habit that much more difficult.
“You’re on campus, right? Which library?”
“Don’t even think about it.”
“C’mon, Nola,” he whined, then dropped his voice to a wanton growl. “You don’t want to see me?” he asked, and I could hear my heart thump-thump-thumping in my ears.
Of course I wanted to see him. If it were possible—and not completely desperate—I’d be with him all the time. And not only that, I longed to be pressed up against him, maybe somewhere in the stacks, his lips devouring mine and my hands running over his taut muscles. I’d had this fantasy about a dozen times since I met Scout. The two of us making out in any number of public spaces—his Mustang, the back room at my job, in the middle of a dance floor, in a hot tub, on a balcony in Jamaica with the stars twinkling overhead. You get the picture.
I shook my head, trying to dislodge the vision of Scout and me from my brain. “That’s not it. I just don’t want to mess up your Saturday.”
“And you won’t. I’m supposed to be helping out, remember? You write the paper, I bring the food?”
“Yeah, but that was before I had to pull a double.”
“That doesn’t change anything on my end. Remember what I said last night?”
How could I forget? Scout told me we were in this together, and the stupid part was, I wanted to believe him.
“Nola,” he said, snapping me out of my thoughts. “You remember, right?”
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “Yes…”
“Good. Now, which library?”
“Powell,” I said, just above a whisper.
“Okay, baby. I’m on the way.”
* * *
Scout
“So let me get this straight. You have to work two double shifts this weekend?”
I couldn’t believe Nola agreed to work 24 hours in a two-day span. She said her boss didn’t give her much of a choice, which pissed me off because it was clear he was taking advantage of her. Desperate people often did desperate things, and from what I could tell Nola was just barely scraping by. Like so many others, she was probably one or two paychecks away from being out on the street, so she put up with her boss’ bullshit. But I vowed to put an end to it. Nola wasn’t going to run herself ragged on my watch, especially when she didn’t even have to.
“Crazy, right?” she said between sips of her coffee. ”I have no idea how I’m going to pull this off, but I don’t have much of a choice.”
“You can always quit,” I said under my breath.
Nola’s head snapped in my direction. “Quit what?”
“Your job. Your manager sounds like an asshole. And he can’t legally make you work two shifts, you
know that right?”
She gave me a little shrug like she knew the situation was fucked up, but was resigned to deal with it. “What option do I have? If I quit I won’t be able to pay my rent or cover my tuition. I’m so close to being done, Scout, I can’t give up now.”
This was insane. Nola was going to work herself into an early grave, and for what? A few hundred dollars a week?
I knew what it felt like to want to make something, anything, out of yourself and bust your ass until it happened, so I sympathized with her. But Nola was brilliant, and beautiful, and big-hearted. She deserved to be as carefree as some of the trust fund babies I saw walking around UCLA like they owned it. And I was prepared to make it happen.
“Look, you’ve barely had any sleep, and now you’re about to spend the next 12 hours on your feet only to get up and do it all over again tomorrow?” I asked. “It’s not healthy, Nola.”
“I’ve done it before,” she said, dismissively. “I’ll be fine, Scout. I just need to get through the next few days and then I can relax.”
“And what if your body gives out before then?”
Nola pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and hunched her shoulders. “I dunno, it doesn’t really matter, does it? No one besides Tara cares anyway and she’s just as busy as me.”
“Bullshit,” I said, but Nola just stared into the distance.
The only emotion I usually let myself feel is anger. Over the years I’d become really good at channeling my pain, humiliation, shame, and uneasiness into pure rage. When I was younger I’d get pissed off without much provocation, and back when I was brawling every day, I relished my ability to knock guys out if they even looked like they were about to talk shit about me.
Hearing Nola say nobody cared about her made me feel sick. I would be fucking gutted if something happened to her; but of course it was way too soon to tell her this. I couldn’t even explain why I felt so protective of her; it was irrational at best and downright crazy at worst. But what I felt for Nola could only be explained in clichés I never believed in before the night we met—kismet, soul mates, fate.
I tried to shift the focus off of my feelings. “I’m sure your mother would be worried sick if something happened to you.”
Nola rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t count on it.”
“You’re kidding, right?” I asked, hoping Nola’s mother was nothing like mine.
“Nope, I’m not. She wasn’t abusive or anything,” she said, taking another sip of her coffee. I relaxed a little, thankful she hadn’t experienced that particular horror. “But after my father died, she seemed to forget I was even there.”
“I’m sure she was just in shock. Losing the love of your life has to be painful.”
“And losing your dad isn’t?” she snapped, tears dotting her eyes. “I was 10, Scout—TEN—and she retreated into herself and left me to fend for myself for three years. Then we picked up and moved over and over again. Can you imagine how that felt?” Nola asked, staring straight into my eyes. “Can you?”
I didn’t know what to say. If my parents had packed up and moved I would have thrown a fucking party; instead they beat me when they were angry, screamed at me when they were coming down from a high, and were missing in action when I needed them most. My parents were nothing short of horrible, but I’d been lucky enough to fall into a group of friends who became my brothers. Apparently, Nola didn’t even have that; she was all on her own.
“At least you learned to fight back,” she said, jarring me back to reality. “Every year there was a new city and new bully waiting to torment me. All I did was pray for the day I could finally get the hell out and live some kind of normal life.” Nola wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Trust me, Scout. My mother doesn’t give a damn about me. Nobody does.”
Her words stabbed at my heart. I wondered what kind of mother could turn her back on a girl like Nola; it was too inconceivable for me to wrap my brain around.
“That’s not true,” I blurted out. “I care about you, Nola,” I reached for her hand, “a lot.”
“Scout,” she sighed, “you haven’t even known me that long.”
“Baby you can’t put a time limit on what’s meant to be.”
“Oh, God.” Nola laughed, but not a happy one. Instead it came tumbling out like she’d heard a stupid joke and was playing along out of sympathy. “Please tell me you don’t believe in happily ever after, soul mates, and true love.”
Her burst of cynicism caught me off guard, but I tried to brush it off. “Would it be such a bad thing if I did?”
Her smile disappeared. “Yeah, actually, it would.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because love is dangerous. I saw what it did to my mother and I told myself that would never happen to me.”
“Never?” I asked, taking Nola’s words as a challenge I was determined to beat.
“Never,” she said again, her curly hair swaying back and forth.
Game on.
13 Nola
“Midnight, right?” Scout asked.
We were sitting in his Mustang and I was trying to convince myself that the next 12 hours wouldn’t be so bad. I was doing a horrible job, though. I knew it would be hell.
“Yeah, midnight,” I said, not bothering to try to talk Scout out of picking me up this time. I would probably never admit it, but the truth was, I was looking forward to it.
“You can still back out, you know,” he said, stroking my hand. I caught him staring at my lips and for a millisecond I thought he might kiss me.
“And do what? Run away? Become a hobo? Join the circus?” I chuckled. I was already sleepy, slightly delusional, and was starting to sound like a crazy person. Maybe my mother and I weren’t so different after all. When I was little, she’d ask what I wanted to be when I grew up, suggesting all manner of ridiculous jobs.
“You can be a magician, or a folk singer, or an acrobat!” she said once. “You’re already flexible, Nola darling. Maybe you can be all three.”
I giggled at Sandy Jane’s absurd ideas before turning somber. “I just want a regular job, mommy. You know like a nurse or a banker.”
“Why? Regular jobs are nothing but traps that suck the life right out of you. Don’t you want to see the world? Do something crazy? Have some fun?” my mother asked.
“Yeah, I guess,” I said, thinking about how much I adored our trips to Saint Ann’s Parish. “But not all the time, mommy.”
My mother patted my head and sighed. “Such a serious little girl. You need to live a little. You’ll see.”
And I did. I saw how my parents’ fast living left my father dead and my mother a hollowed-out shell of her former self, so concerned with dulling her own pain she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, acknowledge mine. I saw how “living” quickly dissolved my quirky, but amazing childhood that was once full of adventure, love, and laughter, into an extended nightmare I was still trying to wake up from. I saw it all, and it was way too much to handle.
If that was living, I told myself, I wanted none of it.
“You can call in sick and we can ride up the coast, get some seafood in Santa Barbara and just hang out,” Scout said, his eyes pleading. I knew that look. It was the same one I’d give my mom when I begged her to spend time with me. I’d ask if she wanted to go to the movies or get ice cream or have a picnic in the park. Each time I got the same answer, “Maybe tomorrow, Nola darling. Mommy doesn’t feel like going out today.” I kept asking, every weekend for two years straight, until I realized my mother just didn’t feel like going out with me.
I touched the side of Scout’s smooth face; he’d shaved the hint of beard that sprouted up on his chin. His skin felt soft beneath my palm and I could smell the remnants of his cologne. It seemed impossible, but I’d stumbled on a great guy, perhaps the last one in L.A. I could feel the tug of my heart whenever I looked into Scout’s deep brown eyes or each time his hand touched mine, but I refused to give in.
“That sounds g
reat, but—“
He cut me off. “Don’t even think about it, let’s just go.”
“Scout—“
“Come on, Nola. Live a little.”
I took my hand away; Scout echoed my mother’s dangerous advice. She wanted me to live, like her and my father had, and I couldn’t chance it. Look what happened to them.
“I can’t, Scout.” I grabbed my things and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Sorry.”
I ran up the stairs leading to the restaurant and didn’t look back. Normally I would’ve stolen a glace at him or given Scout a quick wave, but I didn’t have the energy, or the resolve to deal with my unwelcomed feelings. It would help if he were an asshole or a jerk—that would make cutting Scout out of my life easy. But he was so thoughtful and attentive, and downright gorgeous, I wasn’t actually sure I’d be able to let him go.
I dragged into Pink Taco and headed straight for the back room. I plopped down on a bench, put my head in my hands, and said a little prayer.
“Please God let this day go by fast,” I whispered. “Or send a flock of locust into the restaurant, whatever’s easier. Amen.”
“Nola, we’re totally breaking up!” Tara said as soon as she walked in the room. “How come you didn’t tell me?”
“Tell you what?” I asked, throwing my things into the locker and grabbing another 5-hour Energy Shot.
“That you’re seeing someone! I saw you guys in his car. At first I thought he was just an Uber driver or something, but then you kissed him!”
“Who got kissed?” Roxy asked when she strolled in the room.
“Nola!” Tara said with her arms crossed.
“About damn time,” Roxy said, chuckling. “I was beginning to think you were some kind of asexual freak.”
“What?” I gasped.
“Yeah. I mean, at first I thought you were a lesbian—“
“WHAT?” I looked between Tara and Roxy. “I’m sorry, is this the Twilight Zone? What the hell are you even talking about? A lesbian?”
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