Maybe This Time

by Kasie West

  “From pecan pie to the afterlife? That’s quite a jump.”

  “Funerals.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, you believe in an afterlife? Or yes, funerals?”

  “Yes, I believe in an afterlife.” I paused and looked up at the clouds. “I’m not sure exactly what it will consist of, but I believe we all have a soul, something that makes us who we are. When my gran died, I remember looking at her body and knowing something was missing, that she was no longer her.” I gave him a sideways glance. “What about you?”

  “I agree.”

  “Wow, something we agree on,” I said.

  “I know, weird.” He tapped his foot a few times on a nail that was jutting out of the wooden railing around the porch. “Is that why you got upset today? Because this reminded you of your grandmother’s funeral?”

  “There it is,” I said. “I knew you couldn’t resist analyzing me.”

  “I just need this last little puzzle piece and then I’ll have you all figured out.” I could tell he was kidding but I wondered for a small moment if there was a hint of truth in there—if he really did think he’d figured me all out. Maybe he could provide me with a list because I was feeling a bit undefined lately.

  “Let’s find Micah so we can leave,” I said.

  “Something else we can agree on.” Andrew took one more bite of food and we stood. He dumped his plate in a metal trash can by the back door and we went inside. The cool air-conditioning immediately brought relief, but the noise level inside was intense. We stayed together, searching the living room, the halls, the bedrooms. I even knocked on the bathroom door, but it was not Micah who responded.

  “I left my phone in the van,” I said to Andrew. “Do you have yours?”

  “I left mine in the van too, since at the cemetery you told us that was the polite thing to do.”

  I sighed. “I did, didn’t I? I guess I am your etiquette coach.”

  “Country-living etiquette. I’ll return the favor if you ever come to New York.”

  I clenched my jaw and headed for the front door. I didn’t need a lesson on city etiquette. I had common sense, unlike him.

  I’d parked down the street so I hurried there ahead of Andrew. I noticed Kyle’s car before I saw him in it. The Mustang was parked behind the flower van and I saw some movement inside. The engine was running. Was he waiting for me?

  But when I approached the passenger side, it was apparent that Kyle wasn’t in there alone. Jodi was in the passenger seat, and they were kissing. I gasped just as Andrew came up beside me.

  Kyle must’ve heard or sensed something because he stopped kissing Jodi. He looked over, saw me, and gave a head nod. I didn’t wait to see what came after that head nod. Jodi was already starting to turn around. With my cheeks flushed, I fled up the road, past the flower van, car keys clutched tightly in my hand.

  Andrew caught up with me. “Hey, you okay?”

  “What? Why wouldn’t I be?” I didn’t mean to snap at him, but I did.

  “That was Kyle. I thought you and he … ?”

  “What? Yeah, no, it doesn’t matter. We weren’t … I didn’t even …” Like him was how I was going to finish that sentence. And I knew that was true, but it didn’t mean I wasn’t hurt and that was hard to explain. I didn’t want to explain. “It’s a funeral” was how I finished instead.

  “People mourn differently?” Andrew offered, repeating Micah’s sentiment.

  There was a neighborhood park at the end of the street and I cut right, heading across the grass toward the big slide tower. I climbed the steps and sat at the very top, leaning my back against the blue metal bars. Andrew followed and sat opposite me, our legs stretched out alongside each other. The platform was smaller than I’d anticipated.

  “I forgot to get my phone,” I said.

  “Me too.”

  I slipped off my shoes and pressed my toes into the bars next to him.

  “So,” Andrew said, “you’re definitely moving Kyle to the undatable column of Micah’s spreadsheet, right?”

  I laughed a little and rolled my eyes. “You think I’m upset. You think I had something with Kyle?”

  “I think you did.”

  “We didn’t. Not really,” I said. “And there is no actual spreadsheet, you know that, right?” I blew out a breath between my lips. “It honestly doesn’t matter. We start school in a couple of weeks. It’s senior year and then as soon as that’s done, I’m leaving.”

  We sat in silence for a few minutes. I wiped at some flakes of blue paint that were chipping off the metal bars, trying to act like I was perfectly fine. Because I really wanted to be. I should be. I was.

  “You’re not going to miss it here?” Andrew finally asked.

  I brushed my hands together. “I’ll miss Micah. But she wants to stay, work with her dad. I’ll come back and visit tons. My brother lives here.”

  “And your mom.”

  “Right … and her.”

  “You won’t miss her?”

  “I love my mom.”

  Andrew nodded. “Your mom’s not so bad.”

  “We’re just very different.”

  “True.” He smiled at me. “So … senior year.”

  “I know. Yours too. But … how is that when you do independent study? Are you still as excited?”

  “For school to be over? Yes.”

  “I guess that’s true. But I don’t know, there’s something about being on a school campus and being the oldest and … I don’t know.”

  “I get it. It’s a rite of passage. One I’ll miss.” He was quiet for a minute, then said, “I’ve thought about going back to school for my senior year.”

  “But … ?”

  “But then we move.”

  “Right.”

  “Right.” He bumped his knee into mine and, for the second time in the conversation, changed the subject. “Do you realize I’ve only ever seen you wear skirts? Do you own a pair of jeans?”

  “You only ever see me at events.”

  “There was that one time Micah and I saw you at the movies.”

  I nodded, remembering our brief interaction; I’d been taking Gunnar to see the latest superhero flick and had bumped into Micah and Andrew in the lobby.

  “Was I wearing a skirt?” I asked.

  “You were.”

  “Huh. Good thing I have killer legs,” I said, lifting one up.

  “You do.” His eyes went to my foot and narrowed in on something there. “It made a pretty good scar.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He grabbed my foot and ran a finger along the middle. “The glass.”

  I pulled my foot away as a zing went up my leg. “You’ve touched my feet entirely more than anyone should have to.”

  “Very true.”

  “Hello! Are you guys over here?” Micah yelled out. She was standing at the entrance to the parking lot, waving. “Let’s go home!”

  I reached forward to grab my shoes and Andrew must’ve leaned forward to stand up because suddenly we were shoulder to shoulder, his face inches from mine.

  “Sorry,” he breathed. “Go ahead.”

  I stood quickly. “We’re up here!”

  Micah ran up the stairs to the slide, then plopped down between us, pulling us both back down to sitting with her. There definitely wasn’t room for all three of us.

  “What have you been up to?” Andrew asked in a teasing voice.

  “Oh, you know …” Micah said. “I ran into Joseph.”

  “Joseph?” I asked in surprise. “Andrew said you were talking to Lance.”

  “I was, but then Joseph came and we had a nice talk.”

  I sighed in frustration. “You just need to give Lance another chance already,” I said.

  Micah’s brows dipped down. “What? Why would I do that? We’re not … I’m not … Lance wants to go away to college,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “And?” I asked.

  “And long-distance relationships ne
ver work.” She looked between Andrew and me as if that statement was for us. She really was delusional if she thought that applied to us. “What have you guys been doing?” she asked.

  Andrew looked at me, a challenge in his eyes. He probably wanted me to tell Micah what had just happened with Kyle and Jodi. But I didn’t want to talk about it anymore than I already had. It was over.

  “Sophie needs to bare her soul,” Andrew said.

  “I do not.” I didn’t appreciate his prying. I met his challenging glare, grabbed hold of the bar above the twirly slide, and sent myself sliding down.

  Micah laughed and followed after me. Andrew took the stairs. Micah hooked one arm in Andrew’s elbow and one in mine as we headed back toward the van.

  “I didn’t get to try your dad’s salad today,” Micah told Andrew. “It was gone by the time I went to get a plate.”

  “It’s a good salad,” Andrew responded.

  “Plus, like four people brought hash-brown casserole,” I said. “So there wasn’t much variety.”

  A sleek black car that had become familiar to me by now screeched around the corner and stopped next to us on the street. Jett Hart climbed out of it and slammed the door behind him, fire in his eyes.

  Where is your phone?” was the first thing Jett barked at Andrew.

  Andrew pointed to the flower van. “I left it in there.”

  “I asked you to deliver a dish and our sympathy, not to stay and hang with the locals.”

  Micah and I exchanged a glance.

  “I’m sorry, I thought I should attend the funeral,” Andrew said in a quiet voice.

  “Of a stranger?” Jett snapped.

  “He wasn’t exactly—” Andrew started but was interrupted by the more powerful voice of his father.

  “I have been trying to get ahold of you for over an hour. This total lack of regard for anyone but yourself is wearing on me, Andrew.”

  “He just told you he went to a funeral. How is that selfish?” Once it was out of my mouth, I realized I should’ve kept it in there. This was not my battle, not anywhere close to it, but suddenly I’d just made it that.

  Jett’s angry eyes turned on me. “Did I ask for your opinion?”

  “When I see someone in the wrong, I give my opinion without it being asked for.” Great, there was no controlling my tongue now; it had a mind of its own. Micah nudged me.

  “Andrew,” Jett said, obviously choosing to ignore me and my unasked-for opinion. “Gather your things and be home in thirty minutes.” With that, Jett got into the car and drove off.

  I wasn’t sure why Jett had left without Andrew. Maybe my pushback threw him off. Maybe he didn’t want to ride in the same car as his now-seething son.

  Silence stretched between the three of us until finally Andrew said, “Why did you do that?”

  “Me?” I asked, when I realized I was the only person he could be talking to. Micah had remained silent through the whole encounter.

  I looked at Andrew. I’d thought he was angry at his dad. But he was angry at me? “Because you weren’t saying anything. You were just letting him walk all over you, like normal.”

  A muscle jumped in Andrew’s cheek. “I can handle my father.”

  “It didn’t look like it.”

  He faced me full-on. “You don’t know everything, Sophie, even when you act like you do,” he said.

  “Ditto,” I shot back.

  Then just like his dad, Andrew stormed off.

  “Seriously?” I turned toward Micah, confused. “They’re both jerks.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Soph, come on. You did kind of overstep some boundaries there.”

  “You heard his dad. He was treating him like dirt.”

  “His dad was angry because he couldn’t get ahold of Andrew. You know how parents are.”

  “He was degrading him like he always does. Like he does everyone.”

  Micah sighed. “Well, you better go find Andrew and say you’re sorry.”

  “You want me to apologize? I did nothing wrong.”

  “Soph, just swallow your pride and apologize so we can leave?”

  I whirled around. Why was everyone being so annoying today? And why was I having to search everyone out? I just wanted to go to a flippin’ funeral in peace. I had a mind to walk straight to the flower van and drive away. But I didn’t. Instead I circled Mrs. Lawson’s house angrily. Andrew wasn’t inside. I pushed through the back door, walked the porch, then the yard, and finally found him leaning against a shed.

  “I’m sorry,” I spit out.

  Andrew avoided my gaze. “Do you know what those words mean? Because you used them all wrong.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “Can we just go?”

  “Go ahead. I didn’t ask you to wait for me.”

  “We drove here together.”

  He was silent, his head down.

  So stubborn.

  “Am I that bad?” I asked, stepping closer to him. “I’m the only person in your life who’s ever told you that your dad is a jerk? I find that really hard to believe.”

  He finally looked up at me. “It is none of your business. That’s the point.”

  “Oh, but who Kyle kisses and how that relates to me is your business?”

  “That’s not even close to the same thing.”

  I stepped closer again and jabbed his chest with my finger. “It’s exactly the same thing. And if someone—even your dad—is talking to you like that when you don’t deserve it, then I’m going to call them out on it.”

  Andrew grabbed my wrist, pulling my hand away from his chest. “And if you’re just going to pretend you’re perfectly okay when it’s obvious you’re not, then I’m going to call you out on it.”

  “Fine!”

  “Fine,” he said.

  My eyes shot down to his hand holding my wrist then back up to his face. His blue eyes were intense, his lips slightly parted from the sharp breaths he was taking. And suddenly my body seemed to be on autopilot. I leaned forward and pressed an angry kiss to his lips.

  He froze, and then so did I, our lips pressed together. Then all at once his free hand moved to the back of my neck. His hand still gripping my wrist pulled me closer, bringing my hand around his back. He tilted his head, deepening our kiss. I took a quick breath in through my nose as a jolt of electricity surged through my body. I wrapped my arms around him, my body against his. He rotated 180 degrees and pressed me against the shed, his mouth still on mine. This wasn’t allowed to feel so good. No. This couldn’t feel so good.

  I wedged my hands between our bodies and shoved him away. He dropped his arms to his sides and stared at me for a moment. Then he twisted until his back was against the shed next to me. I tried to even out my breaths and I could hear him doing the same.

  “Why did you do that?” I asked.

  “You did it,” he said, and he was right. “You did it because you felt sorry for me.”

  My brows shot down. “Don’t tell me why I did something.”

  “Even if it’s true?”

  “Especially if it’s true.”

  He chuckled a little.

  “Maybe you felt sorry for me,” I said.

  “I didn’t.”

  “Good.”

  “Good,” he repeated.

  “We should go,” I said, not moving.

  “We should definitely go,” he said, not moving.

  “Are you worried?” I asked.

  “About you attacking me again? Yes, very.”

  I smiled and a slight breeze picked up, providing some much-needed relief from the heat. The leaves in the tree across the yard rustled.

  “About going home,” I said.

  “See, I knew you did it because you felt sorry for me.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. “I did it because everybody mourns differently.”

  He laughed. “It’s not a bad way to mourn.”

  “I’m beginning to see the merits,” I said, wishing that I wasn
’t suddenly blushing.

  “So you admit that I’m a good kisser?”

  He was an amazing kisser. “I will never admit that,” I said.

  He turned, one shoulder and the side of his head pressed against the shed. “My dad’s all I have. At the end of the day, it’s just me and him. I can’t afford to lose that.”

  “He’s your dad. It’s not like he’ll stop being your dad if you say how you feel.” The second I said it, I realized that his mom had left for stupid reasons. That my dad had left, maybe not for stupid reasons but for reasons that I couldn’t control. Maybe blood wasn’t always the strongest bond. “I’m sorry I stood up for you …” I started to say. “Well, no, I’m not sorry I stood up for you. I’m sorry I upset you.”

  “Which time?” he asked, his eyes sparkling.

  “Just this one. The other times you totally deserved it.” I reached out and grabbed his hand, lacing our fingers together. “Today is all about one-time things.” I met his eyes, wondering if he understood what I was saying. That I wouldn’t yell at his dad again. And that regardless of how good it felt to kiss Andrew Hart, we couldn’t do it again. We were far from compatible. We’d proven that time after time.

  He gave me a single nod.

  “What are the odds that your dad would give me a referral after I just told him off like that?” I wondered out loud.

  “A referral for what?”

  “I don’t know. Nothing.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You think my dad can somehow give you an in to the fashion industry?”

  “He knows more people than I do. I thought that maybe …”

  He raised our linked hands. “Is that why … ?”

  I let go of his hand. “No! If I wanted to use you, wouldn’t I have started a long time ago?”

  He ran both hands through his hair. “I don’t know, Sophie. I told you I’ve never had real friends before. It’s hard for me to know if I do now.”

  “You do, Andrew.” And I meant it. “We’re … friends.” How had that happened? It seemed even more surprising than our kiss, somehow.

  Andrew nodded slowly. “Can you come to the benefit in Birmingham in a few weeks? The one Mr. Williams is catering?”

  I shook my head. “Every Occasion isn’t doing flowers for it. They hired someone closer.”