Living Backwards

by Tracy Sweeney

  “I have to go,” I blurted out nervously.

  I couldn’t look at him. My pulse was racing and my voice was shaky. I wasn’t hiding my nerves very well. For someone who was allegedly closed off, I wasn’t doing a good job at shutting out how much I wanted to stay.

  I turned and grabbed my door handle and felt a soft tug on my arm. His hand felt warm against my skin. I couldn’t focus on anything else. He didn’t say anything right away when I turned back to face him.

  “What’s wrong with you?” he finally asked, searching my face again.

  “Nothing,” I lied, pulling away slowly. “It’s just been a long day.”

  I pulled the car door open and climbed in quickly. Fumbling for my keys, I started the car and rolled down the window. Luke was still standing next to my car, his hands back in his pockets and his head tilted down.

  “Thank you for today,” I said, hoping he understood I wasn’t talking about the ID.

  “Anytime, Cross,” he replied. His smile was tight-lipped and forced.

  As I drove off, I watched him in the rear view mirror, standing in the middle of the empty school parking lot. I hoped that leaving him standing there was the right thing to do.

  When I walked into my room I collapsed on my bed, feeling emotionally spent. Too much had gone on and I needed to regroup. As I leaned back to relax, I noticed the glint of pink rhinestones out of the corner of my eye. There, on my desk, was Joan. The same Joan who I never left the house without. The same Joan who made living in the past bearable. The same Joan who I thought I needed in order to survive the car ride with Luke. Joan sat on my desk at home all day and I hadn’t even realized it.

  No matter how hard I tried to remain detached, Luke was turning my world upside down. While I could easily say that my behavior was due to my circumstances, I knew better. It wasn’t where I was or what year it was. It wasn’t what I was drinking or what I was wearing. It was who I was with.

  There was one thing I was becoming more aware of when it came to me and Luke. There was no turning back.

  CHAPTER 10

  Luke

  In the sixth grade, Becky Peterson let me grab her boobs on the beat-up couch in her parents’ basement. The place smelled like mold and mothballs, but for me it was easily one of the greatest afternoons of my life.

  During a pep rally freshman year, Laura Nichols pulled me under the bleachers and my dick out of my pants with the skilled precision of a junior who had clocked her fair share of time on her knees. It was the best “Welcome to High School” I could have ever imagined.

  Sophomore year while I was visiting Jonas in Seattle, his new waitress Dana asked me to bring some boxes out to the storage room. When I found her waiting for me, undressed and uninhibited, I wanted to write a thank you note to Carter for sending me to Seattle in the first place. It would have been inappropriate, but if he had seen Dana, he would have understood why.

  I didn’t have a Little Black Book. I didn’t have a long list of conquests. Now, thanks to Jillian Cross, I didn’t have any balls either. When did I become the guy who couldn’t kiss the girl?

  Raking my hands over my face, I stared up at the ceiling. I couldn’t drag myself out of bed. I just replayed the scene in my head over and over trying to figure out where I went wrong. I had never been with anyone as difficult as Jillian. She’d continually draw me in only to back off at the last minute. I was getting seriously pissed off. And she had the nerve to call me moody. She’d be moody too if she had to deal with this mountain of mixed signals I was buried under. The worst part was that when it came down to it, as easy as it was with Becky, Laura, Dana or any of the other girls I’d been with, I never wanted them the way I wanted Jillian. And that pissed me off the most.

  Looking at my alarm clock, I groaned realizing that I’d have to get up soon. At least it was Sunday, and I wouldn’t need to worry about dealing with Jillian until tomorrow. Today I needed to focus on finals and stop dissecting everything that she said while we were in Tacoma. What kind of word is ‘swoon-worthy’ anyway?

  I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat there, scrunching up fibers of the shaggy carpet with my toes. The scent of cinnamon filled the air, and I knew Grace was downstairs cooking. For once, her third degree was going to be a welcomed distraction.

  I found her dicing chicken on the butcher block, and had to check the clock again. It was ten o’clock in the morning, right?

  “Grace, please tell me that chicken isn’t part of whatever you’re making for breakfast.” If she said yes, this would be the morning I finally poured myself a bowl of Cheerios.

  “Don’t be silly,” she replied with an eye roll. “There are cinnamon rolls warming in the oven. I’m making chicken salad for your uncle. Well, I was making chicken salad for your uncle. He’s stuck at the hospital because of some disaster training, and I was going to bring him lunch, but my editor is going to call me back around one and I need to put some finishing touches on this section of the book before I go over it with her. There’s just no way I’ll be able to make it to the hospital in time,” she rambled, dicing harder and harder with her frustration.

  I opened the oven and the smell of cinnamon filled the air once again. I was starving. Grabbing one off of the cooking sheet, I winced at the burn on my fingers, the sticky residue covering them in the process.

  “I can bring it to him if you want,” I offered, biting off a chunk.

  “Are you really talking to me with a mouthful of food?” she asked, cocking her brow.

  “It’s not my fault that you’re a culinary genius, Grace,” I replied innocently. “I just get carried away.”

  I heard her mutter something about being fresh under her breath, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “Jonas called,” she said suddenly. “He wanted to know when you’re bringing your things by. I told him that I assumed you’d be moving into the apartment on Sunday.” She didn’t look up, but there was a wistful tone in her voice. “I can’t believe this is your last Sunday here.”

  It occurred to me that I hadn’t thought of my countdown in days. Now suddenly, I was leaving in a week. Something felt off though.

  “He said to call him at the bar when you can,” she added.

  “Don’t worry about Carter. I’ll stop by the hospital this afternoon,” I offered, needing to change the subject. I just didn’t want to think about Seattle anymore, and I’d probably need a study break by then anyway.

  After inhaling three of Grace’s gooey cinnamon rolls, I headed back upstairs to go over the review sheet that Mrs. Jacobs handed out for the trig final. I quickly found that I couldn’t concentrate on trig because I’d associate Mrs. Jacobs with Joan. Then I would get pissed that I was calling Jillian’s flask by name—like I was as crazy as she was. Her brand of crazy was probably contagious.

  Frustrated, I tried moving on to chemistry, but was once again reminded of my conversation with Josh about the prom and the report I reread ten times in detention as I plotted Joan’s rescue. I threw the book across the room when I found myself calling the stupid thing Joan again.

  It was twelve-thirty and I hadn’t accomplished much, but I figured some fresh air might help clear my mind. Grabbing the brown bag Grace left in the refrigerator and my coat, I headed off to see Carter.

  I tried to ignore the stares of the young girls at the front desk as I walked to the switchboard to request that Carter be paged. I paced the lobby distracted, pushing the thoughts of tattoos and pale skin out of my mind. He seemed to be taking forever, and I grew increasingly uncomfortable listening to giggling behind me. Frustrated by my inability to get an ounce of peace and quiet, I moved out of the lobby and began wandering the corridor. A fire alarm mocked me from its spot next to me on the wall. There was just no escaping her.

  The chime of the elevator snapped me out of my haze. When the doors opened, I almost dropped Carter’s lunch on the floor in front of me. Jillian stepped out of the elevator wearing the most sinfully tight bl
ack top I’d ever seen. The corners of her mouth turned up when she saw me.

  “Luke,” she greeted me. The tension from the prior day seemed to be a memory.

  “What are you doing here, Cross?” I asked, unable to hold back my grin. “Trying to score some rubbing alcohol? I thought we got you an ID so you wouldn’t have to resort to this.”

  As she shifted her weight onto one foot, a sliver of skin along the waist of her jeans grabbed my attention.

  “I may be an emotionally unavailable, future alcoholic, Luke, but I do have my standards,” she retorted, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

  Oh, God, not that. Do not look at her boobs. Do not look at her boobs.

  “I was having lunch with my mom,” she added as my eyes naturally flashed to her boobs. “She’s an x-ray tech.”

  Hearing someone call my name, I was shaken from my breast-induced trance. From the look on his face, it was apparent that Carter had caught me red-handed.

  “Hey,” he said, looking at Jillian. “Pad Thai!”

  “Hey, osso bucco!” she replied, smiling.

  “Hey…you two know each other?” I asked suspiciously. My heart was hammering in my chest. What the hell was going on?

  “Yes, we met at the grocery store last week when I stopped off to get some things for Grace,” he explained. “I’m Carter Chambers, Luke’s uncle.”

  “Jillian Cross,” she began, extending her hand to him. “Luke and I go to school together.” I watched as Carter’s eyes darted curiously from Jillian’s to mine.

  “Carter’s a head shrinker,” I explained. “Comes in handy when I meet people who act a little…off.”

  “You’re funny, Luke,” she replied, rolling her eyes.

  “Well, it’s nice running into you again, Jillian,” Carter added, looking more at me than at her. Wonderful. I was staring at her boobs and now he wants answers. “So how did that Pad Thai turn out?”

  “You were right,” she laughed. “I definitely needed the dry tofu. My friends are practically promising me their first borns to make it again.”

  “I was telling my wife about our meeting and apparently I was supposed to recommend a certain brand. I wish I could remember…” He trailed off as I looked dumbfounded at the two of them as they talked like old friends. “Why don’t you walk back to the office with us and I can call her. She’s probably prepping for veal saltimbocca night,” he added.

  Jillian pivoted on her heel with her fists planted on her hips, full of righteous indignation.

  “God, Luke! How can you hang your head and sulk all day when you have this glorious woman at home cooking you osso bucco and veal saltimbocca?” she fumed.

  “And scones,” Carter the traitor added. Jillian’s eyes grew wide. She reached up and shoved me.

  “Scones!” she exclaimed. “And veal saltimbocca is my favorite. That’s it. I’m officially adopting Auntie Grace as my own. You do not appreciate her.”

  Carter was enjoying Jillian’s outburst just a little too much as he practically doubled over laughing.

  “You know, Jillian,” he began. “Tonight is actually a sort of goodbye dinner for Luke. It’ll be our last big Sunday dinner together.”

  “Oh right,” she replied understanding. “Seattle.”

  His eyes flashed over to mine again. “Oh, he’s told you,” he said, clearly surprised. It was like he couldn’t believe that I talked to a girl. Trust me, Carter. I’ve talked to girls before. If you need to see my resume, we’ll discuss it later.

  “Yes, I’m sure hearts will be breaking all over Reynolds when Luke rolls out of town next week.” She glanced over at me with a playful spark in her eyes as she joked with him.

  “You should come by for dinner, Jillian,” Carter suggested.

  Wait. What? He was acting like we invited strange girls over to the house for family dinners all the time. If this was his idea of a going away gift, it wasn’t cool.

  “Grace would welcome the chance to tell you everything you’d ever want to know about Pad Thai. Plus, how can you pass up your favorite dish? Right, Luke?”

  I had never been at such a loss for words in my life. If I agreed, then I’d be subjected to a night of terror as Grace and Carter started mentally planning our wedding. If I said no, I’d look like a dick.

  “Luke?” Both Carter and Jillian were staring at me. This was a disaster.

  “Right,” I replied. Maybe if I pissed her off, she’d decline. “Come by for dinner, Jillian,” I offered, exaggerating the angelic charm in my tone. “It’ll be swell.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me and turned back to Carter.

  “I would love to come to Luke’s goodbye dinner. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “Excellent! Why don’t you come by around five-thirty? I’m sure Luke can give you directions,” he added, winking at me. Maybe I’d inherited winking from him.

  “I’m assuming this,” he added, pointing at the brown paper sack, “is my chicken salad.” Grabbing the bag, he glanced at his watch. “I have to get back to my meeting, but I will see you tonight, Jillian.”

  He waved, walking off with his lunch in hand, already unwrapping the sandwich before he turned the corner.

  “So, you’re really coming by for dinner tonight?” I mean, she couldn’t be serious. You’re supposed to avoid situations like this, not embrace them.

  “Why? You don’t want me to come over and meet the family?” she teased. I rolled my eyes at how blasé she was acting. It was as if we hadn’t had the most uncomfortable car ride in the history of car rides less than twenty-four hours ago.

  “I just hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

  “Are there some strange Chambers family rituals I need to know about?” she asked skeptically.

  “So you really didn’t get what was going on there just now?”

  “Apparently not. I thought I got invited to dinner by a charming gentleman with a rather socially inept nephew.”

  “Carter thinks you’re my girlfriend or at least he suspects you are.” Now if that doesn’t scare her away, nothing will.

  “Why would he think that?” she asked, furrowing her eyebrows. Because he caught me staring at your boobs and blushing like a schoolgirl.

  “I don’t know, Jillian, but trust me he does. So, you’re really subjecting yourself to a meet-the-parents dinner,” I explained, proud that I was pulling this out of my ass so quickly. “I’ll tell Carter that you forgot you had something to do at home. He’ll get over it.”

  “No, Luke,” she replied firmly. “I’m not going to cancel on your uncle. It was very sweet of him to invite me. Just relax,” she added as the corners of her lips turned upward again. “I won’t start talking china patterns with your auntie yet.”

  “It’s just Grace. Her name is Grace,” I corrected. Auntie, my ass.

  “So, how do I get to Casa Chambers?” she asked, flashing me a shit-eating grin. I’m glad she found this funny. I was going to have to show her how funny it could be.

  After giving Jillian directions, I high-tailed it out of the hospital and back home. I needed to finish studying for finals. I hadn’t begun to pack anything and now I had to get ready for our impromptu dinner guest. Just what I needed. Was she completely oblivious? I know I hadn’t imagined the tension between us yesterday, and today she was acting as if none of it happened. I was so distracted that I spent the afternoon staring at the ceiling instead of tackling any of the things I needed to do.

  By five, I was ready to murder Carter for trying to ruin my life. Grace was fluttering around the kitchen frantically like we were expecting Martha Stewart for dinner. She was even wearing a dress.

  “Luke,” she exclaimed, looking up, “why haven’t you changed?”

  “Change? Why?” I asked, looking down at my gray t-shirt and jeans.

  “Luke, come on,” she replied shaking her head. “Go put on a nice shirt. You’re having a guest for dinner.”

  “No,” I corrected. �
�You’re having a guest for dinner. I have no part in this.”

  “Don’t be difficult,” she sighed as she set the plates on the table.

  This was all Jillian’s fault. She didn’t seem concerned that Carter thought we were together. She didn’t think the car ride home was the most uncomfortable hour of her life, and she didn’t see that it was just weird for her to come over. She was assaulting my dreams every night and taunting me with her tight shirts every day. She was driving me insane, and I was done. It was time to take control of this situation.

  “Grace, I’m sure Jillian isn’t concerned with my wardrobe choices,” I replied, trying to appeal to her rational side. She seemed to think about it for a minute before a soft smile brightened her face.

  “All right. You win. Here,” she added, handing me a long loaf of bread. “Can you slice the bread for me?”

  I grabbed the cutting board and started slicing away until the chime of the doorbell broke the silence. Okay, Jillian, let’s see if you still think this is a good idea.

  I opened the door to find her standing in the entryway wearing the black shirt from earlier and holding what looked like a cheesecake with strawberries on top.

  “I made dessert,” she announced as she handed me the plate. It was time to show her who she was dealing with.

  “Strawberries. Just what I’ve been craving lately.” I pulled a large, juicy berry off the top of the cake, closed my eyes and took a sloppy bite. I darted my tongue out to collect the juices dripping along the corners of my mouth. When I opened my eyes, I felt the rush of victory. Jillian’s lips were parted and her eyes were trained on my mouth. That’s right. I’m not the only one with a wandering eye.

  “Luke,” I turned to see that Grace had entered the room. “Are you eating the dessert that Jillian brought already?”