by Katie Nelson
Holding my hands up in surrender, I backed out of the office. “Hey, whatever. I’m just passing it on.”
“Yeah. Right.”
Rick went back to the desk and re-adjusted his headset. I hurried through the doors and chose not to think about everyone back in the dorm.
The night was clear. Anything could happen.
I climbed into my truck and peeled out of the parking lot.
I’d been wandering around the Duke’s house for half an hour, looking for Kelsey. The night was cool and the wind blew erratically, gusting with a jealous force that scattered cups and overturned chairs. So, even though the Duke had hauled a bunch of portable heaters onto the deck, the house was crowded, people crammed into the media room and game room, clustered in the kitchen and even seated on the stairs.
Toward the back, several bedroom doors were locked and I told myself Kelsey wasn’t in any of them. I pushed on, determined to find her. I thought I’d seen every inch of the house, but I found another door I’d never tried, down the hall from the study. It was unlocked, so I opened it and stepped inside.
The room was dark, but once inside, the thump of the stereo in the hall was eclipsed by the tinkling of a grand piano, bathed in the moonlight by a wall of windows that overlooked the ocean.
I paused, not sure if she’d seen me come in, and watched as Kelsey’s face moved in and out of the light, her whole body an extension of the fingers that moved across the keys. The notes got louder, faster, and more urgent, like a wave about to crash against the rocks, and then her hands came down, digging in as the final three chords hovered in the room.
The piece over, she raised her head and saw me standing just inside the room, and a small smile spread across her face.
I clapped and walked over to the piano. “Beethoven?”
She shook her head. “Chopin. Don’t you know anything about classical music?”
“Not a thing. But you? Wow. You’re good. Really good.”
She shrugged. “Ought to be. I practice enough.” Fingers curled loosely, she reached across to the end of the keyboard, dragging her thumbnail down each key, slurring the notes. “But I can’t just be good. Good doesn’t win pageants.”
“You’re doing it?” I asked. “Miss California Teen Something-or-other?”
She laughed, but it sounded more like a sigh. “I have to win Miss Napa Valley first. But, yeah. My parents have decided.”
“But you don’t want to.”
“It doesn’t matter what I want.” She ducked her head and started to play “Chopsticks,” her fingers punching the keys as her hands moved up and down the keyboard.
“Now that’s more like it. You should play that for the talent portion. It’s way more you.”
Kelsey scooted over a little, patting the bench next to her. I sat down, our shoulders touching, my knee bumping against hers. She began turning the pages of a thick book of piano solos. “When did you become an expert on what is and isn’t me?”
I leaned in, trying to read the titles of the songs as she turned the pages. “I know more than you think.”
She slowed, and I wondered if she believed me—that I saw things in her that the other guys didn’t. But she didn’t acknowledge my comment, her eyes scanning the pages instead. “How old do you think these songs are? I’ve never heard of any of them.” Her fingers found the keys and she played an unfamiliar melody. After a few seconds, she stopped. “Ew. No. I don’t like that one.”
She turned the page and tried the next one. The accompaniment was simple, and as she played, I squinted and tried to read the lyrics.
“It’s a love song,” she said, her fingers repeating the same chords, while I continued to read. The music was old and yellowed and I had to squint to make out the lyrics written between the bars.
“And you think I don’t know you,” I said, leaning into her with my shoulder. “This is totally your song. He’s talking about a girl who listens to him when he talks, even about stupid stuff. That’s textbook Kelsey. You have an opinion about everything—” She opened her mouth to argue, but I kept going. “Then he admits that he might be wrong, and that they might argue, but at the end of it all, she’ll understand him. I’d sing it for you, but you’ve already had to suffer through that once.”
“Ugh. I remember that. It was awful.”
She played a little slower, the notes repeating and running into each other through the final chorus. Her eyes stayed focused on the music in front of her, but her hands moved up and down the keyboard. She made it look effortless. As easy as breathing.
I knew I should say something—try to make her laugh—but the moment felt important, and I really, really didn’t want to screw it up. So we sat there, each lost in our own thoughts, listening to the music.
Her fingers held the last chord, and I could feel the sound vibrating up and down my spine, every nerve in tune to those notes. I turned my head. Our faces were inches apart, and my heart raced as I realized: this was the perfect moment. All I had to do was lean in and I could kiss her. I leaned in closer.
The door flew open and the lights flicked on. Squinting against the glare, I couldn’t tell who it was.
“McKay. There you are. Where’s Abby?”
Blake pushed his way into the room, holding a beer in his meaty hand, followed by two other guys in varsity letterman jackets. From the smell of their breath, they’d had a lot to drink.
I hadn’t seen Abby all night, but I knew that if Blake was here looking for her, then there was a good chance she was here, too. I had a split second to decide what to do, and though I’d told myself over and over that I didn’t care, in that moment, I did. So I lied. “She’s not here,” I said, pushing myself up from the bench. “Haven’t you talked to her?”
He stepped closer, his goons right behind him; intimidation was the only language he knew. “I tried. She’s not answering her phone. I heard her earlier this afternoon talking to you about this party.”
I couldn’t look at Kelsey. I didn’t know what she was thinking, or how she’d feel about me covering for the Duke and Abby. Truthfully, I was afraid to find out. I felt like a puppet: pathetic and weak. And I was afraid Kelsey would see that.
I stared straight at Blake, unwilling to break eye contact, knowing that I needed to appear confident to pull this off. “She’s babysitting. My mom had to cover a shift. She was going to come with me, but she called a couple hours ago and cancelled.”
“Why aren’t you watching him? He’s your idiot brother.”
My muscles burned and I clenched my hands into fists at my side. All my life, people had made fun of Sam. It pissed me off more than if he’d insulted me.
Kelsey’s hand was on my forearm, gently squeezing, and I looked over at her on the piano bench. Lips pressed together, she shook her head, ever so slightly.
It was enough.
“Look, Abby’s not here. Are you incapable of being at a party without your girlfriend?”
He glared at me, his mottled skin getting redder and sweatier. Taking a long drink of his beer, he crushed the empty cup and threw it at me, hitting me in the chest. I didn’t budge. “You’d better not be lying to me, McKay.” His buddies grunted in agreement as they left the room. I rolled my eyes and waited until he was gone, then pulled out my phone.
I didn’t know where anything was in Garrett’s car. You’d think for sixty grand, the cruise control wouldn’t keep shutting off. I finally quit trying to use it and hoped that I wouldn’t get a ticket as I sped down the highway, racing to get Abby home before Blake showed up at my house and caught us both in the lie.
“I hate this song,” Abby said, reaching to change the radio station. “Even with satellite radio there’s nothing decent to listen to.” A new song played for a few seconds, then she flipped the station again.
“Leave it,” I said, clenching the steering wheel, my fingers digging into the leather.
“What? You afraid Garrett will be mad that we changed his station? I’
m still surprised he loaned you his car.”
I wasn’t. The Duke had found him and asked for a favor. Garrett had looked like a puppy waiting to have his ears scratched. He’d wanted to drive Abby home himself, but the Duke insisted it be me. Garrett’s car was faster and not blocked in by a dozen others, so I was in his Lexus, and he would be driving my Bronco back to the dorms.
Abby leaned back in her seat, finally settling on a song. I glanced over. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, and though she’d refused to take one of the Duke’s coats as we were leaving, I could tell that she was cold. I reached over and turned on her seat heater.
After a few minutes, she said, “Oh, that’s nice. Did you do that?”
I pointed at the controls on the center console. “Seat heater. You can turn it down if it gets too hot.”
“Of course. Just like my mom’s Hyundai.”
“Yes,” I smiled. “This car is exactly like your 2002 Hyundai.”
“Remember the time we got stuck? When you convinced my mom to cut through the field because we were going to be late to that hobbit movie?”
I laughed. “Never did get the mud stains out of those jeans. My mom was furious. And I had to wait another two weeks to see the movie.”
Abby punched my shoulder. “That must have been the longest two weeks of your nerdy little life.”
“Remind me what happened to that car again? Oh right. You snuck out freshman year and wrecked it. And I’ve had to drive you around ever since.”
“Who knew the state of California would be so unforgiving?” She shrugged. “Besides, what kind of social life would you have if you weren’t driving me places?”
I rolled my eyes. It was the same pointless argument we always had. For a while, neither of us spoke. We were climbing the foothills now, the city lights getting dimmer as we got closer to home.
“Ugh. This town. I can’t wait to get out of here.”
Leaving was something we’d talked about a lot growing up. I had my future planned for years—college, law school, job in DC—but Abby never seemed to settle on anything. For a while she wanted to be an actress, a model, lead singer in a band, but I think she knew, even then, how unlikely it was that those would work out. Abby was smart, but she had no interest in college. She didn’t know what she wanted. She just knew it wasn’t here.
Sitting across from Abby, with a piece of her strawberry gum in my mouth, the same gas stations that I’d seen my entire life passing outside my window, it was easy to forget. It was easy to pretend that we were still kids arguing about what kind of pizza to order and what TV show to watch, certain we’d have each other’s backs any time it mattered.
Then Abby’s phone beeped, and as she picked it up and read the text, I knew we’d changed. Both of us. And I wondered if I felt as much like a stranger to her as she seemed to me right then.
She typed a reply and then set her phone down in her lap.
“Blake?” I asked.
She nodded.
“What did he want?”
“The usual. Where am I and what am I doing.”
Her phone beeped again. She took longer this time, her fingers tapping out her reply or explanation or excuse. I shook my head.
“I don’t get it. Why do you let him treat you like that?”
She didn’t look up. “I know you don’t like him. But you’re not dating him, Tanner. I am.”
“But you’re dating the Duke, too!”
She shrugged. “We’re not dating. We just like to hang out. We have fun together.”
I slowed as we approached town. It was late, and the roads were pretty empty, but we still waited at the first intersection for a red light. As the SUV idled, I turned and looked at Abby. “That’s it? You hang out at his house and let him take you out. But you’re not dating. Admit it. You’re using him.”
“And you’re not? You’re getting everything you ever wanted—winning tournaments and celebrating like you’re some kind of rock star. Quit the charade, Tanner. You’re not any better than I am.”
I barely slowed as I turned the corner, and Abby’s shoulder slammed into the passenger door. I felt a little bit of satisfaction.
“It’s not the same thing. He doesn’t expect anything from me. I know him. He likes you. A lot. And he wants more from you.”
“You know him? You don’t know anything about him. You know what he wants you to know.”
I slowed and pulled into Abby’s driveway, shifting into park while she gathered her stuff. I wasn’t going to win this one. I never did with Abby. I didn’t know why I’d even brought it up.
“Look,” I said, as she opened her door. She paused, glaring at me. “Be careful, okay. I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”
Abby rolled her eyes and stepped out of the car. “Relax. I know what I’m doing.”
I doubted that.
Before closing the door, she leaned in and said, “Thanks for the ride.”
The door slammed shut before I could respond.
CHAPTER TWELVE
DESPITE THE RIDICULOUS AMOUNT OF noise that Huang made the next morning, I stayed in bed until 11:00. I woke to find Garrett dangling my keys in my face.
“How did you get in?” I asked, wiping the drool off my cheek with the back of my hand.
“Door was open,” Garrett replied. That explained all the noise from the hall. Typical Huang.
I sat up and yawned. “I guess you want your keys.”
“Yeah. That beast barely made it home. I don’t know how you keep it running.”
I found my jeans on the floor and pulled Garrett’s keys out of the pocket. He took them from me, then asked, “You hungry? A bunch of us are going to brunch.”
“Brunch?” I ran my hands through my hair. “I don’t know. Sounds a little too country club for me.”
Garrett grabbed my towel off the rack and threw it at me. “Get in the shower. You’ve got ten minutes.”
It turned out that brunch was at an actual country club.
This time, the Duke wasn’t the one that got us in; it was Garrett. And since they didn’t have cash registers—just member accounts to charge expenses to—the whole meal was on him, too. I couldn’t have been happier.
I’d come back from the buffet with my third plate to find Tomas and Kelsey arguing about immigration.
“Look, even if I agreed with you, which I don’t,” Kelsey said, her voice rising as she leaned across the table, wagging her fork at Tomas, “you’re never going to be able to keep everyone out. Instead of criminalizing it, why not make the citizenship process a little easier? Especially for people who have families and jobs here. Then when they’re legal American citizens, they’ll buy houses and pay more taxes and contribute to their communities. Immigrants are the hardest working people in our country. They aren’t now, and never have been, the drain on society that you seem to think they are.”
“You two need to get a room?” the Duke asked. Garrett and Jason laughed. Peyton smirked. Tomas wagged his eyebrows, but Kelsey threw the crust of her toast at him. “Yeah, Because the only reason a woman would have an opinion about current events is so she can get a guy in bed.”
Tomas shrugged. “You said it, Cinco, not me.”
Kelsey was so mad that she had little red splotches on her neck. So I said the first thing that popped into my mind. “You know what this french toast reminds me of? Did you guys ever have those french toast sticks in elementary school? With the sausage patties?”
The Duke grinned. “Yes! With those little syrup cups that you dunked them in?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded. “I used to love those. For the longest time, Wednesday was my favorite day. I was never late on Wednesdays.”
Garrett started talking about the school lunches at his private school, and the attention of the group shifted, but I kept staring at the Duke, oblivious to what the rest of the group was saying. I remembered sitting on those long benches every morning, eating as fast as I cou
ld, so I could get out of the cafeteria before my friends got to school and saw me. By about second grade it was obvious: the only kids that ate breakfast at school were the poor ones who got free breakfast and lunch. I looked across the table at the Duke.
“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” I asked him.
“We don’t have enough time off for me to fly to England. I’m staying here. Work on my tan.”
“So, what? You’re going to sit around in your boxers, eating Thai, while you watch TV all day?”
The Duke shrugged. “Something like that.”
“Dude, that’s pathetic. You can come to my house. My mom collects weirdos like some people collect stray cats. Nobody will even notice an extra person.”
The Duke smiled, flipping his head to get his hair out of his eyes. “Are you calling me a weirdo or a stray cat?”
“Maybe both.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Fair enough. I’ll think about it. Thanks.”
He turned back to the conversation at the other end of the table. Peyton was having trouble grasping the concept of a vegan Thanksgiving, and Jason was trying to explain it. “But how do they make the tofu taste like turkey?” she asked for the third time.
My phone rang and I pulled it out of my pocket. Sam on FaceTime. I wasn’t doing that here. I ignored the call and turned my phone over, face down on the table.
A couple of minutes later, when the guys were looking up the score of a college football game, Kelsey leaned in. “Was that your brother?”
“Yeah. I’ll call him when we get back.”
“I’ll bet he’s excited to see you.”
“I don’t know that he misses me,” I said. “I’m sure he misses having a chauffeur.”
Kelsey laughed. “You guys hang out a lot?”
I shrugged. “Depends. He’s actually got a bunch of friends from school. But he’s on the hunt for a babe.”
She shook her head. “A babe? Like a girlfriend?”
“Yep.” I had my fork in my hand, and I was drumming it on the table. I hadn’t even realized I was doing it. I set the utensil down and put my hands in my lap. “But he’d settle for just a date. As I’m sure you can imagine, those are hard to come by for him.”