by Lisa Aldin
Blushing, I pull the blanket to my chin and smile. Loch takes the marker from my hand and writes something on my cast. The room is dark, lit momentto-moment by the flickering fireplace. I lean into him and breathe in the scent of cider and vanilla. I wiggle my toes. When he’s finished writing, he sets the marker on the coffee table. As his hand moves to my knee, the fire creaks and moans and pours heat over every inch of me. He leans closer, closer. His rum cider forgotten.
I wonder why the world doesn’t shake from my heartbeat. The pounding behind my curved bones is so freaking loud. Loud enough to send an avalanche racing down the mountain, encasing us in this moment like the lovers of Pompeii. My right foot rubs against his sock as I shift my weight. The promise he made at my father’s grave feels as fragile as the embers rising into the chimney. My head buzzes with lost thoughts and insane possibilities for my path ahead. Our path. I read what he wrote on my cast in his sloppy boy-handwriting: My sincerest apologies.
I look up. Before his lips link with mine, Loch adds, “I have to break the promise I made. About avoiding, you know, change between us?”
Of course I remember the promise. But when he kisses me, I forget everything. I forget lake monsters. I forget names scratched into wooden docks. I forget Winston. I float away.
Loch pulls back, keeping close, and whispers, “Maybe we shouldn’t do this here.”
I mumble something that isn’t a word and study the dark hairs along his movie star chin. Holy crap. I just kissed Loch. I jump up, practically gasping for air. The blanket falls loose from my shoulders.
“I better get to my room,” I blurt. “Goodnight.” As I bolt for the exit, I slam my knee into the coffee table. “Ack!”
Loch stands, concerned. “You okay?” he asks. His dark eyes are so freaking distracting.
I step back, making sure he doesn’t get too close. My knee throbs. “Yep. I’m good. Later.”
“Goodnight, Toni,” he says.
But I don’t look at him. I just give a stupid wave and limp off to my room. My knee seriously hurts. Quickly, I close the door and climb into my bed and pull the covers over my face. Okay, heart. You can calm down any minute now. I lay there for some time, staring at the ceiling. My arm itches beneath my cast. My knee aches. But I don’t care about any of the pain. I just replay the kiss over and over until sleep grabs hold and shoves me under.
twenty-two
THE NEXT MORNING, I WAKE UP to the sound of clanging pans, sizzling eggs, and running water. My head feels like a stone too heavy to lift. But I sit up, groggy, and try to itch underneath my cast. I lift the covers and study my bruised knee. Ouch. Not sure I can handle another injury on this trip. Barefoot, I pad to the kitchen, which is full of busy bodies. I peer into the living room and examine the couch. There it is. The scene of the crime.
Cider.
Warmth.
Fire.
Lips.
Stubble rubbing my cheek.
His hand on my skin.
“Good morning, Tonya,” Mrs. Hamilton shouts over the counter, flipping a pancake. “How you feeling today?”
I groan, suddenly very aware that these people are admiring my bedhead. I shuffle into the kitchen and ask as casually as my voice will allow, “Where’s Micah?”
Mrs. Hamilton flips another pancake. “Shauna took him to the lake to go ice-fishing early this morning.”
My stomach jerks. He’s with Shauna?
“Ben went along with them,” Mrs. Mayhew adds. “No one wanted to wake you. How’s that arm?”
I look at the words on my cast. The shape of each letter. The meaning hidden behind them. My sincerest apologies.
I swallow hard. “Everything’s great. Thank you for asking.”
An hour later, I wait on the couch with my packed duffel bag at my feet. The rest of the luggage rests by the door, along with a nervous Mrs. Mayhew, who keeps glancing out the window.
“They should be back by now,” she says.
“They probably caught a fish,” Mr. Hamilton says, fiddling with his phone. “My Shauna always catches something. We’ll leave as soon as they get back.”
I call my mother to tell her about the slight delay. She takes it surprisingly well. While we wait, I play a game of Go Fish with Shauna’s parents and Mrs. Mayhew, but I can’t concentrate on anything other than the taste of Micah’s mouth. I wonder if Shauna is kissing that mouth right now. Ugh. I slam the cards down.
“Don’t be a sore loser, Toni,” Mrs. Hamilton huffs, gathering up the cards.
Is that what I am? A sore loser? Did I lose him? I pace the room, a bundle of nerves. I shouldn’t care. Micah doesn’t belong to me. He’s still on the job. He’s paid to pretend. Things went too far last night, but it isn’t too late to set things back the way they’ve always been. Kissing ruins friendships.
I can’t afford to lose Micah.
But.
That stubble. That mouth.
Footsteps sound outside the door. It sounds like someone kicking snow off their boots. Seconds later, the door opens, revealing a stunned-looking Micah wrapped tightly in his black jacket and fluffy black scarf. His pink cheeks burst against the white background behind him.
My stomach does this thing I can’t describe. Yep. There he is. Stunning.
“Thank the Lord!” Mrs. Mayhew exclaims, shuffling the deck of cards. “We were about to send out a rescue crew. Where’s Ben? Shauna?”
“Out back.” Micah’s shoulders are stiff. He avoids eye contact with anyone.
Mr. Hamilton claps. “She catch something?”
“Uh. Yeah.” Micah clears his throat. “She caught something. If you can call it catching.”
Mr. Hamilton checks his phone. “We should hit the road. But first I must see what darling Shauna has brought us!”
He exits through the back door, which slams behind him. Mrs. Hamilton sighs and gathers up the cards. Mrs. Mayhew slips on her coat and joins the party around back, giddy to see Shauna’s “catch.” Whatever that means.
Micah hurries over and whispers to me. “You sure that girl’s not a serial killer?”
He’s close. Too close. His fingers brush my elbow, and my elbow ignites. This is enough to drive me insane within a matter of days.
“Huh?” I’m distracted by his rough edges. The fact that he can light me on fire.
When Mrs. Hamilton approaches us, I panic and spin around and pretend to be going somewhere very important, but I end up walking straight into the wall. Boom.
“Oh my God!” Mrs. Hamilton exclaims. “Toni? Are you all right?”
I hold my aching nose. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. I give a stupid smile. “Must be the pain meds,” I say. “Making me kind of loopy.”
Mrs. Hamilton touches my shoulder. “Please be careful.”
She shakes her head and goes outside to join the others. I slide into my coat, wiggling my hurt nose. This is just getting ridiculous. I avoid Micah and hurry to see what the others are doing, but he’s right behind me. I can feel his breath on the back of my head.
“Toni,” he whispers. “Whatever you do back there, don’t look in the red cooler.”
The first thing I want to do is glance inside the red cooler. It rests beside the fire pit, a red dot among the snow. Mr. Hamilton peers inside it, a thrilled expression across his face.
“That’s my daughter,” he says with pride.
Shauna grins. “There it was, crossing the road. I didn’t mean to hit it, of course, but the damage was done at just the right spot. The body’s still in one piece.”
Ben looks at Shauna like she’s some kind of goddess. I shiver several feet away, hands stuffed into the pockets of my coat. Micah stands close enough that I can feel the heat rise from him. Will he try to kiss me again? Not now, of course. But in the future perhaps?
“Darling, we should probably load up the car,” Mrs. Hamilton says.
“I want to skin it first.” Shauna glares at me. “I need to change my shoes. I don’t want to get blood on my boot
s.”
Skin it?
Skin what?
Why is she looking at me like that?
“Do it when we get home.” Mr. Hamilton pats his daughter on the back. “Put plenty of ice in there so that it holds. It’s only a few hours. It should be fine. We need to get going. Tonya’s mother is worried.”
“Come on, Ben. Help us finish loading up the car,” Mrs. Mayhew orders.
The Hamiltons and Mrs. Mayhew go back inside. Before Ben follows his mother, he looks to Shauna and says, “You’re amazing. I always knew you were amazing.” He beams and hurries to the cabin. Micah, eager to leave, starts to follow, but Shauna stops him.
“Let’s talk business,” she says, pulling out a hunting knife.
Holy crap.
My gaze moves to the cooler.
I can’t stop staring at it.
Have I entered into a real-life horror movie?
Micah sighs and shoves his hands into his coat pockets. “Make this quick, Shauna.”
Oh my God. I totally have.
“In case you didn’t notice, Toni Valentine, Ben loves me,” Shauna says. She takes a step forward. Snow crunches. “A lot. He loves me more than ever. And it’s all your fault.”
“You’re not making any sense,” I say, shaking my head. “Could be the pain medication. Could be the fact that you’re just not making sense.”
“Let me remind you.” Shauna brushes a curl from her eye with the tip of the knife. “You. Micah. The couch. A cozy fire. Last night. Kissing. Ring any bells, Toni?”
I look at her. Oh. That.
“Ben saw you,” Shauna continues. “And he knows the truth now, thanks to Micah.”
“He thought I was cheating on her,” Micah explains, wiping his head. “He wanted to kick my ass. He needed the truth or he would’ve ended up with a broken arm, too. Safety first.”
Shauna sharpens the knife on a nearby rock.
“Okay.” I raise my hands, trembling. “Can we just talk about this? No one needs to get hurt.”
“You completely humiliated me, Toni!” Shauna slides the knife into a leather case and sets it beside the cooler. I breathe a little easier. “If you hadn’t insisted on coming along, this could’ve worked out perfectly! Ben thinks I hired a guy to pretend to like me, and now he’s more persistent than ever. He says he’ll love me forever, and I don’t have to pay him a cent blah blah blah. God, do you have any idea how this feels? I feel like the biggest loser in Vermont!”
“Just tell Ben that it’s not true,” I say, sighing. “Tell him no, Shauna.”
She grumbles and tightens her yellow scarf. “He doesn’t want to hear it. And now he thinks I made up Ryan, too. Thanks, Toni. Really. Why can’t you two stop looking at each other like that, huh? Why can’t you pretend for one weekend not to be crazy in love with each other? Is that too much to ask?”
At the same time, Micah and I reply, “We’re not crazy in love with each other.”
A pause.
We both point to each other and shout, “JINX!”
I laugh. I can’t help it. Micah breaks into an adorable grin. Shauna just stares at us for a few moments. Shocked.
“I want my deposit back,” she says. She picks up the red cooler. “All of it.”
“Oh, come on,” I beg. The morning sunlight slips through leafless branches, momentarily blinding me. “Micah did what he was hired to do. He gave up his weekend, his job, for you. He hugged you. He let you lick his ear. He earned that money.”
“Micah blew the cover.” Shauna shakes her head. “Which means he did not do what I paid for him to do. I want my deposit back. Every cent. I will call the police.”
“The police?” I spit. “Are you serious?”
She lowers her voice. “I’ll tell them all about your human-trafficking operation.”
“Wait,” Micah interrupts as my fingers curl into a fist. He looks to Shauna. “Forget it, okay? Have your money back. I don’t want it anyway.” He digs into his coat for his wallet and hands over the bundle of bills still wrapped in a pretty pink ribbon. I hate that she wrapped her money up like that. “Take it,” he tells her. “It’s all there.”
“Micah.” I touch his shoulder. No. You need that money. “I’ll work this out.”
Shauna snatches the cash from Micah’s glove. “You’re finished, Toni Valentine.”
So the drive home is awkward. Shauna’s parents pull into my driveway and bid Micah and I farewell. Shauna hops out and throws our bags in the snow. She doesn’t look at either one of us as she climbs back into the car. I watch the SUV drive off, glad to be rid of her, but pissed that we had to return the money.
What a waste of a weekend. Worst of all, Micah quit his job for it. I feel so guilty for getting him involved with someone like that.
Micah hands me my bag. I take it, and my fingers graze his and my body warms. “Thanks,” I say, blushing. “I’m sorry. I’ll try and get the money back. At least some of it.”
He scratches his scruff. “This whole thing might be too good to be true.”
“Shauna Hamilton doesn’t matter.” I groan. “Screw her. She’s crazy. I’ll still make you a lot of money. Promise.”
Promise. The word pulls me back to last night. The promise he broke. The kiss. Here we are now, alone in my driveway. No one around. He could kiss me again. He could kiss me again. My heart pounds.
“I’m thinking the business isn’t a good idea,” he says, swinging his bag onto his shoulder. “People are emotional, unpredictable creatures when it comes to relationships.”
“I’ve got it under control.” Don’t leave this. Please.
Loch rubs the back of his neck. “That’s the thing, Toni. You can make all the profiles and charts and schedules that you want, but you’ll never be completely in control. There’s an uncontrollable human element to this.”
My heart drops. “Are you saying you want out like Cowboy?”
He hesitates. “I’m going to beg for my job at the Teddy Bear Factory back. If they take me, that job is my priority. This is just too risky for me right now.”
I take a step back and nod. He looks at me, opens his mouth, and closes it again. He wants to say something else, I can feel it. And I want to say something else. I want to bring up the kiss, but I don’t know how without sounding like an idiot. Gently, Micah touches the tip of my nose and says, “Later, Toni. No more walking into walls today, okay?”
As he steps away, I call out, “Hey, Micah?”
He stops, turns, and waits. For a second, I see hope in his eyes, but I’m pretty sure the pain medication is screwing with my head. Still. I should say something. Anything.
I ask, “What was in the cooler?”
He makes a gross-out face. “A dead rabbit.”
I shudder and watch as he hurries up the walkway leading to his front door. He looks like he’s running away from a bad date, and I guess he kind of is. Between Shauna nibbling on his ear and his lips crashing into mine, this was probably the worst weekend of his life.
I go inside and pretend the tears streaming down my cheeks are tears of joy to be home. Mom embraces me. She examines my arm, but I don’t tell her about my other injuries. My bruised knee. My throbbing nose. My aching heart. Just when I think I might be able to forget him for a few seconds, Mom pulls out the pumpkin pie.
twenty-three
EMMA AND I TRUDGE THROUGH the parking lot on Monday morning, fighting the bitter winds. I wrap my scarf around my face and hope that she doesn’t ask what happened over the weekend. I’d prefer to silently obsess about it until I develop an ulcer, but Emma grabs my elbow and whispers in my ear, “What happened this weekend?”
My thoughts aren’t working properly because Micah inhabits them. He twists the words in my head and blurs my focus. I can’t think of a lie. I don’t want to lie. I mumble something in response and unwrap the scarf as we step inside Winston. A lost piece of paper sticks to my sneaker, but I kick it aside and move along.
After several mi
nutes of silence, Emma yanks me into the bathroom and corners me by the sink. She folds her arms over her chest and demands, “Talk.”
I can’t help it. I tell her everything. I need to tell someone. When I get to the part about The Kiss, I nearly choke on the story. I attempt to retell the tale as casually as I can, mentioning more than once how The Kiss was no big deal. I want someone to tell me it was no big deal.
When I’m done, Emma blinks a few times and pulls out her lip gloss. She rubs the stick against her lips and hands me the tube. I’ve become oddly accustomed to sharing these types of girlie things with her but decline, my lips naked.
I swear I can still taste the cider from Micah’s mouth.
Emma rubs her lips together and says, “That’s a lot of information to process.”
I pick at my thumbnail. Maybe she can give me some perspective. “You wanted to know what happened,” I say.
Emma sighs. “Did you really pole dance?”
I blush. “It was more of a walking-stick dance.”
She fidgets with her silver stud earrings. “This is serious trouble.”
I groan and lean against the sink, a bit dizzy. “I knew it was a bad idea. Loch and I are friends. We shouldn’t be kissing.” I pause and take a deep breath. “We shouldn’t start anything. I don’t think we’ll even be in the same state next year.”
“Eh?” Emma blinks a few times.
“I would be choosing UVM for Loch, not for me,” I say.
“So where do you wanna go?” Emma smiles. “Take Loch out of the equation.”
I hesitate, my gut jerking. I know the answer. I think I’ve known since the day I got my acceptance letter, but I didn’t want to admit it. Going out of state means growing apart from the guys. Now I know that’s inevitable. “Purdue,” I say with a nod. “I want to go where my dad went.”
“Then that you shall, Toni Valentine,” Emma says, resting her hand on my shoulder. I smile, relieved to make a decision, to take a leap, however terrifying. But an unsettled feeling rests in my gut. How will I tell Loch?
“Now,” Emma continues, frowning. “Back to business. This is strike two against us. Shauna won’t be quiet about her dissatisfaction. She’s not as forgiving as Carrie.” She pauses. “Does Micah want out?”