“Ohmigosh, it’s a new Camero, like, totally loaded. It’s super cool.” Dr. Mase smiles at me, satisfied, as he turns to Bendi.
“So how did the recital go, Bendi?” She takes a deep breath before beginning, or maybe continuing, since I interrupted by being late.
“I could feel the anxiety as every person went ahead of me, but I practiced my breathing exercises like we do in my private session, and before I knew it, I was centered, and it was my turn. And I nailed it. I regretted feeling so weak before because it was simple and easy once I got on stage. I didn’t think about the two hundred people who were in the theater; it was just me and my cello.”
“The regret is going to be there, but you have to learn to forgive yourself. Only then can you begin to rebuild your lives. Things in the past can’t be changed. They are there forever. We either learn from our mistakes or repeat them. To learn from them, you must understand and acknowledge those emotions. Does that make sense?” We all nod at Dr. Mase. It does make sense, and I wish it were as easy as he just explained it.
“But the guilt sneaks up on you, and there you are again, saying what if I’d succeeded in my suicide attempt? Would my family be better off? Or what if I hadn’t started cutting to begin with? My parents wouldn’t fight all the time, and my sister wouldn’t carry this guilt that weighs her down and holds her back from getting close to others,” I blurt out, and I can’t stop the tear from trickling down my cheek.
“Lana, is that the guilt you are carrying? Those are things that just happen, yeah, maybe a result of your actions, but you can’t carry their burdens as yours. My focus is your health and well-being. You can’t work through their emotions for them; they have to do that. Would you like me to speak to your mother about maybe having a family session?” I’m torn. On the one hand, I do, but on the other, we are all hiding secrets from each other. What if they all come out? I shrug. I don’t really believe my mom will go for it, or my dad really for that matter, so what would it hurt for Dr. Mase to ask? He makes notes in his notebook before returning to the group and shifting the focus to Will. I sink low into my chair and zone out for the rest of group.
The drive home is quiet too. I stare out the window, and the lights race across my face. My dad has tried to converse with me, but after five one-word answers, he’s given up on me. He hums quietly, solemnly with the music. And I’m struck by how similar he is to Lacey. My day began with happy cheery humming in the car and ends with humming that makes me sad. I close my eyes, heaviness on my chest as a tear traces out of the corner of my eye and lands on the new leather.
Lacey
On Friday, I left Chase’s house and went directly to Tasha’s for our sleepover. The girls were very low key. I didn’t tell them my news; instead, I texted with Chase all night, reveling as I allowed him to tell things he apparently had wanted to tell me for a long time and didn’t have the nerve to say face-to-face. Jade and Tasha talked about their relationships with each other as we watched Can’t Hardly Wait while I sat in my own little corner, in my own little world with Chase. Soon enough, I was sure, the whole world would know about our relationship, but now it was ours alone. On Saturday morning, I couldn’t help it. I got up early, making up a lie about having to work early. Granted, I did have to work, but not until ten a.m. I had planned on going to work from Tasha’s originally, so I went ahead and got ready. I arrived at Chase’s house promptly at seven a.m., driving down the driveway to park beside his yellow Mercury Cougar. I slid into the unlocked sliding door silently and into his bedroom. He never locked that door. I slipped under the covers beside him as he slept deeply. I shift delicately, so as not to ruffle my outfit too much. He stirred long enough to wrap his arms around me. I snuggled in and fell fast asleep. I awoke to his butterfly kisses against my cheek.
“Good morning,” I whispered, still wondering when I’d wake up from this dream to the braces and glasses, still in tenth grade, still awkward.
“You were a pleasant surprise this morning,” he said, his breath suspiciously minty fresh and his hair tousled like normal, not bed-headed.
“I couldn’t help it; I can’t stay away from you,” I replied honestly. That is the one thing we’ve always had, honesty. And suddenly I felt like I could be completely honest with him, trusting him inside and out.
“You’ve just made my day, week, month. . . maybe year,” he said, leaning on his elbow sideways and rubbing the stubble on his chin like an old man.
“Stop it,” I giggled as I pulled his hand down from his chin. He cuddled me again while I finally looked at his clock and groaned. He jerked up and looked at me, suddenly guarded.
“I have to be at work in twenty minutes,” I frowned, and he relaxed and chuckled.
“I start at noon today. What do you want to do this evening?” he asked.
“It will be our first official date.” I couldn’t stop myself from that stupid giggle. I’m such a dork, but he smiled at me in spite of it.
“What are you talking about? I’ve been dating you for months,” he said smugly as he rolled onto his back. I sat up and turned to face him.
“What are you talking about?”
“Lacey, don’t you understand? It’s only been you, always been you. Every Saturday, I treated our time together as a date and did the things that I wanted to do with you on dates. I’ve been dating you for months.” A blush chased my cheeks as I looked away. I thought about all of our time together, all the special moments. They meant as much to me, I suddenly realized, as they did to him.
“Chase, I—” I began, not knowing what to tell him, but wanting to convey the feelings slamming into my heart. But he silenced me with his finger to my lips and just shook his head.
“Go get ready or you’re going to be late; and be ready this evening at 7.30 when I pick you up.” I obeyed, and as I looked at myself in the mirror while I put on my makeup, I realized I’m the luckiest girl in the world. How many chances did he give me? Too many. I know that much.
I finally left, and made my way to the video store. I floated there. I glided through the door and gracefully put my things away. I clocked in. There’s no way to do that gracefully. The world was brighter, the colors more vivid, and all the people in the world were full of goodness. I hummed “Laced with Lies” as I began checking in the overnight returns.
“Good mood?” Byron asked as he stacked each DVD on a cart after I scanned it. We worked together as an assembly line.
“Great mood,” I smiled. I didn’t notice that Henry was working too. I didn’t notice his glare until Byron laughed as he went out on the floor, but it didn’t change my mood or me. I continued to hum while I finished my task. I hummed throughout the whole shift. When work finished, I went home, showered again, and took extra time getting ready. I wore jeans, a cute silk tank blouse, and a short cardigan with my boots.
Chase arrived promptly and took me to the Italian restaurant that we frequented. I slid into a booth in the dark corner, and he slid in beside me, making the entire restaurant feel intimate, like it was just for us. He held my hand as we ordered, and we whispered our conversation as we waited for our food. I suddenly realized that letting go with him meant so much more than I had originally thought it would.
“I have to tell you something,” I whispered, leaning into his ear. He turned his face so our cheeks touched. “I think. . . that I love you too.” and then totally out of character, feeling bold, maybe even high off this new love, I kissed his ear lobe, grazing my teeth against it. He let out what I can only describe as a growl as his hands moved at lightning speed, dropping the silverware he was playing with and grabbing my face. He kissed me fiercely, like he couldn’t stop himself if he tried. It blew me away.
“Thank you,” he whispered breathily, as he leaned his forehead against mine. I was completely unnerved. Every sensation heightened. I felt alive like I’ve never felt before. This was an amazing kid, and he was m
ine. We ate and when our plates were taken away, we still sat there and talked. As far as our connection and conversation from being just friends, nothing seemed to change. We still could find things to talk about that weren’t cheeky-smiled, mushy-gushy “I love you.” He was still Chase, and I found that comforting.
After dinner we drove to our spot and watched the stars out his back seat window for a while. Then we kissed; months of pent up emotions and hormones unleashed on us as we explored each other’s bodies over our clothes.
“You don’t know how long. . .” Chase began as he trailed kisses down my neck. “I’ve dreamed. . .” His hands roamed all over me causing me to feel like I would go insane. “Of you.” A silent tear streamed down my cheek. I suddenly felt stupid. He looked up at me smiling, then alarmed. “What’s wrong?” He kissed my cheek, and I leaned into him, trying to tell him I was OK.
“No one dreams about me,” I finally said, my voice hoarse. I still didn’t feel like I deserved him. He was hot, popular statewide, and this, as wonderful as it was, didn’t feel real.
“I do,” he admitted, softly burying his face in my neck again, and I was lost in him.
Now, I giggle to myself as I enter school on Monday, reliving every single moment of my weekend with my boyfriend. My. Boyfriend. Chase Livingston. Complete happiness encompassed me. My thoughts summon him. I do have a secret power where Chase is concerned. His hand slides into mine as effortlessly as it always has, but we have our secret, and I bump him with my shoulder as I simply say, “Hi.” But that “hi” told him so much more than it had any other day before.
“Hey, love,” Chase winks at me. I narrow my eyes as I look at him questioningly. “You don’t like it; I’ve been thinking about pet names.” I roll my eyes at him as he laughs.
“Too soon,” I tease as we step up to our locker. He rolls out the combination and lets me switch out my bag for my books first. Just before the bell rings, as I’m getting ready to tell him goodbye, he grabs me around the waist and jerks me to him so fast I drop my books. Then to my horror, he kisses me right there in the hall in front of all the students walking down the halls, in front of all the students at their lockers, in front of all the teachers standing in their doorways. In an act that I can only compare to peeing on me to stake his claim, Chase Livingston kisses me like never before with his hands in my hair, on my face, at my waist, all over me. It’s passionate, intense, mind-numbing, and breath-taking all at once. Even though I’m embarrassed, horrified, and traumatized, I still kiss him back, and though I hate to admit it, I’m a little glad he uses this way to tell the world we are together. Take that, silly girls who text him thinking he’ll take you out on a date. Those dates are all mine from now on. When he finally lets me go, that wicked smile creeps across his face, and I know that I was right in my assumptions. This is him, telling the world that I’m his. I put my hand against my closed locker to steady myself, and he chuckles.
“See you later, love.” He backs away from me and turns corner. I lean my head against my hand, wanting to disappear. The silent hall begins its low mumble again, and I feel like all eyes might be off me now, so I pick up my books and head to class with my head down and avoiding eye contact.
After my first class, I learn that the news of our relationship has spread like wildfire. The proof is, that Tasha and Jade are standing at my locker when I arrive, both girls with crossed arms and tapping feet.
“Hey guys,” I say as coolly as possible.
“Hey guys?” Jade repeats indignantly.
“Hey guys,” Tasha says, trying the statement out on her own tongue. I open my locker and switch books.
“When were you going to tell us?” Tasha demands, still tapping her foot while Jade leans against the locker next to mine and analyzes me intensely.
“Tell you what?” I ask as innocently as I can muster.
“That you and Chase were finally together,” she counters.
“Soon,” I say, closing my locker.
“Well, I had to be told by Stacey Gibson; can you imagine? She said she and her clique saw you two in a major lip-lock, like so hot and heavy she thought Mr. Brewster’s head was going to explode and he was going to drag you two to the office to get you suspended, like hot-hot.” I don’t remember anything inappropriate, well, besides the kissing, but then I think about his hands. They kind of were all over me. A smile creeps into the corners of my lips.
“He’s a really good kisser.” I can’t help but giggle, as I think about him again. I want to be with him right now. I absentmindedly trace my lips as I think about kissing him again.
“She’s of no use to us right now,” Jade states as she leans away from the lockers.
“You should have told us,” Tasha trails off as Jade drags her behind her. So I’m selfish for wanting to live in a bubble with Chase; I’ll admit that. But he is serious about me, wanting everyone to know about us at the first chance he got, and I can’t help it; I feel relieved. Maybe someday I’ll be able to believe that this is really happening.
Lana
Tomas won’t tell me what’s going on with his dad. Maybe his dad won’t tell him what’s going on. All I know is since that Thanksgiving, his dad has kept him busy with chores. On Sunday we texted only a few times; yesterday I only saw him at school, and today there were some errands he had to run with his dad on the east side of Indianapolis. We were supposed to hang out. This weekend I’ve spent a lot of time in my room, and the more I do, the more I’m hating my pink walls. Then I have an idea, so I go to my mom’s bedroom door, and just before I knock, I hear a faint voice. I press my ear to the door, and I hear crying. I quickly step away from the door and just stare at it. I can feel my family literally crumbling around me. I turn to go back to my room, but then I see Lacey’s TV is on. I poke my head into her room, and she’s sitting on the floor by her bed playing a video game.
“What are you doing?” I ask, leaning on her door frame.
“Playing Capital Warfare,” she answers, not looking at me.
“Can I ask a favor?” I ask.
“Sure,” she says as she chases a guy into what looks like the White House, but it’s been bombed.
“Can I borrow like twenty dollars; I want to repaint my room,” she pauses the game and looks at me.
“You want to paint your room?” she asks, confused.
“Yeah, it’s not really me anymore.”
“Sure, OK.” She rises and goes into her closet. She comes out with a few twenties. She looks at me for a long second and then asks, “Do you need a ride to the paint store?” I nod. She knows I need a ride, and I can’t help but smile at her.
“I’ll pay you back; I promise,” I say, following her down the stairs. We bundle up because the Chevelle will be cold. Hats, scarfs, fingerless gloves under regular gloves ensure that we will be warm until the heater starts blowing, hot air; usually when that happens, it’s a race to get out of the hot, smothering layers.
“I know.” We drive the short trip to the paint store.
“Do you know what color you want?” she asks, as she surveys the wall of colors.
“Not pink,” I say, straying from all the reds and pinks.
“Can I help you guys?” a college age guy asks as he walks up to us. His name tag says Liam. He’s cute and tan, with blond hair, dark blue eyes, and a white smile with perfect teeth. He’s looking right at Lacey. She looks around to see who he’s looking at, but we’re the only ones in the store.
“We’re repainting her bedroom,” she says, directing the attention to me. Gee thanks; I don’t think I’m the one he wants to talk to.
“What color were you thinking about?” he asks as he glances at me quickly before returning his gaze to her again.
“This sea foam blue is pretty,” she says, pulling a swatch, and I can see her neck getting red. She’s not at all used to attention from boys. That might be the
other reason it took her so long to let Chase in. I look at the paint swatch, and I like it, but it’s too light.
“I want something darker,” I say, scanning the lower colors of the palette.
“While she looks, do you have paint brushes?” he asks her, leading her away from the wall-o-color. They discuss brushes as he sneaks in questions like, “Are you from around here?” He only just moved here this year. He goes to Purdue and is studying computer technology. He commutes; it’s a forty-five minute drive, but he was a late admission, and they didn’t have housing for him, so he and two other guys rent an apartment. TMI Dude. “Are you in college?” She simply shakes her head. “Are you a senior at Brownsburg High?” she laughs and tells him she’s a junior. He moves on to the rollers and pans. He talks her into liners and trimmers before they pick out tarps to cover my furniture and tape for the trim. I wasn’t aware so much equipment was involved in painting a room. I pick a color and we meet at the counter. I only hold the swatch while her arms are full of stuff. I show them the swatch, and Lacey smiles approving. Liam gets the paint can and begins mixing it. Once it’s in the loud shaker thingy, he begins checking us out. He asks for her name, address, and phone number. So invasive.
“We like to keep track of your purchases in case you need an extra can,” he says, turning red. We both smile like “yeah right,” which makes his blush darken. He grabs a bag and begins putting the things in it. When the paint is mixed, she pays, forty-five freakin’ dollars. I’ll owe her forever. He carries our stuff out to the car, and his eyebrows raise as she unlocks the trunk.
“Nice car.” She’s so used to people gawking at her car. She only halfway smiles when she says “Thanks.” He sets the things in it and stands there awkwardly as she closes the trunk. We both go around to our sides of the car and look at him.
“I don’t usually do this.” Yeah, right. I roll my eyes at her, but Lacey ignores me and turns to look at him. “But would you may be like to go out sometime?” Lacey drops her keys, surprised. She picks them up and looks at him confused that he just asked her out.
Mia Castile - [The Butterfly Chronicles 02] Page 17