White Girl Problems

by Tara Brown

  Carter flashed me a cute smile. “Where’d the ring come from?”

  I looked down at my finger. “An antique shop in Nova Scotia.”

  He wrinkled his forehead. “Where?”

  “It’s in Canada, just above Boston. Same accent almost. I got it at a shop there.”

  He folded his beefy arms. “So not from a guy, then?”

  I folded my arms too. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I was just wondering if you happened to meet a dude.”

  I winked. “I’ll never tell.”

  He laughed. “Oh, I know that about you, Fin.”

  We climbed out and he got me some dry clothes, since mine were soaked. He passed me a letter when we were alone in his kitchen. “This came for you by courier today. The guy made me describe you and the incident with the rose bush before I could sign for it for you.”

  I took the envelope and opened it.

  Finley,

  I can’t believe you left and I can’t believe I behaved the way I did. I’m sorry, and I know words won’t make up for the way I acted. I was a jerk. Millie had literally just told me about her illness when you knocked on the door. I didn't know what to say or do. I was devastated. I am so sorry.

  When Hattie brought your journal I was crushed because I had assumed the worst. I was an idiot. I thought I had foolishly put myself out there and you had rejected me. When I saw the ring, I can’t tell you how happy I was about it. Seeing it on your finger makes me feel like the whole country between us is nothing but hallway.

  I have something I really, desperately want to tell you. I’ll be there shortly. It has to be face to face, but I can’t leave while Millie is this sick. She sends her love by the by.

  As does Jack.

  As do I.

  Yours,

  A

  I ran my fingers over the writing. He always pressed so hard.

  “So the guy, what’s his name?”

  I looked up at Carter. “Why would he bring it here?”

  “Courier said he couldn’t take it to your house in case your stepmother burned it.”

  I nodded. “That’s legit. She would.”

  “Name of dude?”

  I looked down at the letter again. “Aiden. Aiden Sorenson. He’s English. I think he’s older than us, not sure though.”

  Carter gave me a puzzled look. “He writes you real letters?”

  I beamed back, like a complete moron. “He does.”

  He rolled his eyes. “He’s gay. You chicks are so bad with gaydar.”

  “He is not.”

  Carter passed me a beer from the fridge and walked out to the patio. “He so is.” I looked down at the beer, taking a sip. It made my stomach tingle instantly, like I was making a poor choice. But I couldn’t be scared of liquor for the rest of my life, and besides, I’d been drinking those Tom Collinses with the bridge brigade and never had an issue. I took a huge swig and followed him out. He sat down next to Aaron and Jess and a girl name Jasmine I used to think of as a close friend. Carter announced loudly, “Fin’s in love with a gay dude.”

  My mouth hung open. Jessica shook her head. “I’ve seen him. He’s not gay. He’s sweet.”

  Aaron’s cheeks were burning and his eyes had something lingering in there I didn’t want to see. Carter slapped me on the leg. “He writes her letters, by hand.”

  Aaron held up his drink. “You had me worried someone else was gonna get to that prize of dating you before one of us, but yeah, he’s gay.”

  I drank my beer, feeling my cheeks burning. But Jasmine laughed. “How do you know he hasn’t already?”

  Carter and Aaron both looked at me. I laughed and shook my head. “We are never having this convo, so stop.”

  Jasmine laughed harder. I winked at her. Jess laughed, but I could see she was unsure about laughing about something so private.

  I looked around at the party starting. It was so like the last time I was there, minus Linna though. Girls in bathing suits, twerking like they came on a wrecking ball, like the music video, only they were grinding against each other also.

  They were the same, but I was different. I could see Jess was too. She seemed outraged once the dancing started. She gave me a look. “Can we go?”

  I nodded and went on the hunt for Carter. I found him in the kitchen, telling stories about football camp.

  “I’m outta here. I need to go deal with shit.”

  He nodded. “See ya tomorrow maybe?”

  “Yeah. Thanks for the letter.”

  His charming smile claimed his face. “Anytime. I got no prob hooking up a gay dude with the girl I want.”

  I shoved him. “You’re an idiot.”

  I turned and left, stumbling upon Aaron dancing with a girl and running his hands up and down her ass. His hands lifted immediately. I shook my head. “I’ll text you tomorrow, okay?”

  He gave me the thumbs-up, but I could tell he was upset. I didn’t know why he thought it was so certain we would hook up. He’d hooked up with Linna. Ho code eliminated him from my options at the dude buffet. There was no way I was dating a guy who had dated my BFF. Even if she was a Mean Girls version of a BFF.

  Jessica and I wandered down the road. She wrapped her arms around herself. “Aaron likes you.”

  “Yeah. Well, he dated Linna so that’s not really an option.”

  “I wonder where she is?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. I’m curious too. She totes owes me a major explanation—major.” Jessica nodded, but she looked lost. In the streetlight, I noticed a funny look on her face. “You okay?”

  She shrugged. “Can you twerk?”

  I laughed. “Yeah, but you gotta practice. Everybody acts like it’s their first time, but all those bitches are practicing.”

  “For real?”

  “Yup.”

  She popped her butt a bit. I laughed harder. “You got typical white-girl ass. You gotta work twice as hard as curvy girls.” I popped it for her.

  “That was pretty good.”

  I felt a bit sad when I said, “Linna and I practiced a lot.” I realized how hurt I was then and there. She had stabbed me in the back for a dude. A dude I didn’t even want.

  I turned toward her house and headed that way. “I’ll meet you at the house.”

  “No way am I walking home alone.”

  I gave her a look. “Be prepared to see a cat fight.”

  She rolled her eyes. We both knew what a wuss I really was.

  When white girls throw down, they pull hair, tear leggings, and throw pumpkin spiced lattes.

  Chapter Nine

  Catfight and a Broken Heart

  September

  My phone buzzed with the notification from Starbucks that the pumpkin spiced lattes were back. September first had hit and I still hadn’t seen Linna. She hadn’t been home any of the dozen times I’d stopped by. Her parents had no idea where she was. I had assumed it meant they were covering for her.

  Skeezy ho was avoiding the scrap we both knew was coming. I was gonna tear out her weave, all Jerry Springer style. Well, that's how it was playing out in my head. In reality, it would probably be me shouting at her and then both of us crying like babies.

  I lay on my bed, staring at the stars my dad had put there when I was little. Half had fallen down, but they still made me smile.

  One of them started moving. I blinked, but it was still moving. “Oh God, she’s drugged me again.” I remembered when Sheila threatened to poison my food with narcotics. I was seeing a moving star on my ceiling… That had to be the first sign. Damn, and there I’d been thinking we had been doing so well. She hadn’t left her room to face me and Jess yet. It had been bliss.

  I sat up, but through the window I could see where the light was coming from. I sighed and got up, stumbling. I opened the window. “Aaron, not funny.”

  “Aaron?” A British voice answered back.

  I froze, leaning out. “Aiden?” Was I high or was he there?

&nbs
p; “Would you prefer it were Aaron?”

  I smiled. ”You have seriously low self-esteem for such a hot guy.”

  He chuckled. “You coming down, then, or shall I come up?”

  “If you climb up, I expect the whole ‘But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun,’ but you have to say Finley, not Juliet, because then you’ll see my low self-esteem.”

  He laughed and I reveled in it. Watching him laugh was bliss. He shook his head, “Well, since I not only have an English accent but also know Romeo and Juliet from start to finish, are you certain that is the scene you would like spouted as a declaration of my most ardent infatuation with you? I feel I would be considerably theatrical with the performance.”

  I sighed and leaned on the railing. “Everything you say is like Shakespeare.”

  “I wish that were true.” His smile faded, and I suddenly had a bad feeling about his being free to come to see me. I turned and ran from the room, hurrying down the stairs and out the front door “Millie?”

  He nodded, looking down. “I’m afraid she has passed.”

  My lower lip popped out. “She has? So Jack is all alone?”

  He smiled. “Of course not. It would not be much like Jack to linger without her. He passed the morning after. I have no doubt he had an arrangement worked out with someone.”

  I ran to him, wrapping my arms around him. “I’m so sorry.”

  He shook his head. “Jack was nothing without Millie. They are together. I cannot be sad about that.” He sounded sad, incredibly sad. I was too. My heart hurt for him and for Jack and Millie. I wasn't sure I believed in an afterlife so there was a distinct possibility they were just gone, separated from one another forever. The thought made me grip Aiden firmer.

  “You have to know, when you came with your sister—”

  I shook my head. “I got your note. I’m so sorry I got mad. I acted like a dick. You just are so built up in my head.”

  “As you are in mine.” He kissed the top of my head, pausing there.

  I looked up. “What are you doing?”

  “Breathing you in. I’ve been missing you.” He was possibly the sweetest person I had ever met. He looked down on me, tilting up my chin. “I have something I really have to tell you.”

  I shook my head. “I can see some kind of bad juju going on, on your face. I don't want to know whatever it is. Let’s just go take a walk and you can tell me how you and Jack are related.”

  He looked down, shocked. “Hattie?”

  “Yeah, she told me he was your uncle, which makes sense. When I met you, I thought you worked at Lakeside.”

  “Worked there? I played cards and visited with the patients. Not a very good worker.” His eyes lit up.

  “Well, you’re charming. In my world, that is considered work. We all go to a great private school and get the best education, of course we… what is that word?”

  “Squander?”

  I laughed. “Yeah, that's the one. We squander it and then our parents have to use their connections and influence to get us into college because we’ve basically got a tenth-grade education. But the thing that we have is charm, most of us. We have the ability to talk and avoid work, or seduce and avoid obligation. My friends know every teacher’s coffee order and which bakery is their favorite. We have expectations for the life we will have and the people we will marry and know all the easiest ways to get them.”

  His arm slipped from my shoulders and his hand slid around mine. “Then we have the same life, only in a different place.”

  “Your parents have expectations for you too?”

  He squeezed my hand. “You know what? You were right. Let’s not speak of this now.”

  I shrugged. “Whatever.” I gave him a smile. “Sorry about the whole journal thing.”

  He laughed. “Yes, I meant to ask, are you in therapy?”

  “So mean.” I shoved him a little. He laughed harder. “The reason I ask is that you clearly have some odd feelings about men in top hats.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You know what? It scared me. I thought I might be going to some weirdo circus act. Shit, that’s not my thing.”

  “Your letter was more like a journal entry. You realize that, right? You do understand the basic concept in a letter—convey a message, not every feeling and thought you have all at once.”

  I shrugged. “Whatevs. I wrote you back. Be grateful.”

  He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it. “I am.”

  I shoved him again. “Don’t say that. I was kidding.”

  He spun me around and looked down on me through his inky lashes. “I am grateful.”

  I lifted his hand to my lips and kissed the back. “Me too.” I looked down on his hand and laughed at the shiny lip-gloss coating it. “Sorry. Just rub it in. It’s moisturizing and plumping.”

  “Plumping?” He grimaced. “Looks like I was kissed by a slug.”

  I winked. “I do believe slug slime is in the ingredients list. It’s where they get the shine from.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t doubt it.” He lifted his hands to my face, cupping it like it was the most precious thing he’d ever held before lowering his lips onto mine. The kiss was again soft and delicate, but it was like a war. I grabbed at his face, trying to kiss harder, but he pulled back and only allowed a soft brush of our lips.

  He pulled back completely, making a growling noise almost. “God, I want you, Finley. I want all of you. I want you to come to my school and live in my house and be by my side at all times.” I cocked an eyebrow, but he laughed. “If you only knew how much less creepy I meant that to sound.”

  “It did sound a little creepy, a little ‘it puts the lotion on,’ ya know?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so. No.”

  I slapped his chest lightly. “You know, he lowers the lotion into the hole in the ground? You don’t know Joe Dirt?” I could see he didn’t.

  He was the one with the cocked eyebrow and puzzled look. “Joe who?” I squeezed his hand as we walked down the road and filled him in on all he had been missing. “So Americans ‘movie talk.’ This means we always use movie lines to add funny things to the conversation. Joe Dirt is amazeballs. So there was a kid named Joe and his family went to the Grand Canyon…”

  Two hours later, after a lot of confused faces and laughs that I was fairly sure were forced, we were in my room with Joe Dirt playing on my laptop. It was the scene with the serial killer and Aiden was laughing so hard I thought he might pee my bed. I loved watching him laugh and smile. It was genuine and sort of funny how he lost all of the composure he worked so hard to maintain. Hattie called it his stiff upper lip.

  He saw me watching him and stopped laughing. The tension and seriousness in his eyes became horrifically apparent, even in the glow of the movie. He shoved the laptop to the side and swept me into him in one fast movement. His arm encircled me, pressing me into him as he hovered over me. He swept my hair from my face, running his fingertip down my jawline.

  My lips were parted, ready, but he never moved. He stared. It was awkward the way he sat, frozen and conflicted about something. I reached up, running my hands up his broad shoulders to his neck and pulling him down on me.

  The kiss wasn’t the same as before. Our mouths collided in passion. Our lips moved against each other in sync. We both wanted it to go further than it should. His hands ran down my back to my ass, cupping it and grinding my body against his as his tongue slid against mine. My plumper was the lube we used to rub and massage each other’s lips.

  I moaned into the kiss as his hands kneaded my ass. He pulled away suddenly, out of breath and looking wild. “I’m so sorry.”

  I looked around. “What?”

  “To kiss you like that. I don’t think you’re like that.”

  I laughed. “I’m not. I like you, so what’s the problem?”

  He sighed. “I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

  The annoyance of breaking o
ff the best kiss I ever had mixed with the thick feeling of rejection I was drinking down. It made a bad combination in my stomach. “I think I’m confused about what the hell we are.”

  He nodded. “I am sorry.” He got up and left my room. When he closed the door, hot tears splashed down my cheeks. I buried my face in my pillow. What had we done that was wrong? It felt like I was having a heart attack. It burned like I’d eaten spicy food.

  I didn’t understand anything that was happening.

  I fell asleep clutching my pillow and I woke in the same position. Jess was smacking me on the butt. “First day of school. Get up.”

  I pried my welded eyelids open and glanced at her standing next to my bed. “What?”

  She nudged me again. “School today. Get up.”

  I moaned. “Why does God hate me, Jess?”

  She shook her head. “You don’t believe in God.” She turned and walked out of the room.

  When I saw what I looked like, I winced. I needed plastic surgery to look normal. I jumped in the shower and did the hot-and-cold rotation until I felt close to normal and then washed my hair.

  What had happened the night before? Why had he stopped kissing? Was he a virgin? That would be weird, but I was too, so who cared? I needed to talk to him and find out what his deal was.

  I pulled my school uniform out and grimaced recalling last year and the way it ended with me getting sent to Canada. Thinking about Canada warmed my heart a tiny bit as I got dressed and finished my makeup. I looked normal after about two hours of effort. When I got downstairs, Sheila was in the kitchen. Her eyes flashed on me, but she never spoke. I cocked an eyebrow. “Out of the cave of shame already, Sheila?”

  She put out a hand. “Truce?”

  I narrowed my gaze. “I paid the maid to record you at all times. I knew eventually the truth would come out.”

  Her jaw dropped. “It wasn’t Jess?”

  I shook my head. “Still want that truce?”

  She pulled her hand back and placed it on the counter. “You set up the blog and the hacked my Facebook and Twitter?”

  I nodded. “I did.”