by Sara Hubbard
“It’s dark, and you’re walking alone.”
“Not sure if it’s preferable to accept help from a stranger.”
He nods, chuckling. “You got me there. But still…I’d like to walk you home.”
“I have mace in my purse,” I lie, the words falling out of my mouth quickly.
He smiles and his amusement makes his face brighten in the dim light. He raises his hands. “There you go. I fall out of line and you can mace me. So you have to trust me.”
“I’ll do it,” I say, inflecting seriousness in my tone.
“I don’t doubt it.”
“Okay. I’m Abby, by the way.”
“Dean Howard.”
I glance down at his t-shirt. He’s wearing a Chemical Meltdown shirt, one of my favourite rock bands. “Nice shirt.”
He shrugs. “It was a present.” He starts strolling ahead and stops to look over his shoulder. “Coming?”
I consider his offer a moment. I’m so tired, and all I want is to crawl into bed. I shove my hand in my purse, hoping he’ll believe me about the mace. His eyes lower to my hand but his eyebrows reach for the sky. That’s right. Step out of line, mister, and your eyes will sting like a mother trucker for a week.
“So you don’t like the band?” he asks.
“What?”
He points to his t-shirt.
“Oh, Chemical Meltdown? Sure.”
I quietly start singing a tune from their latest song to myself. “Ten ways to say I’m over it. I’m over you.”
“It’s a good song,” he says.
“They don’t do slow songs much. But that one is definitely good. Probably my favourite song ever.”
“If you want, I have an autographed CD at my cabin,” he says, glancing down at me. “If we meet up again, you can have it.”
I stop dead in my tracks. “Why would you do that?”
“Why not?”
“No. I couldn’t.” I’m not in the habit of accepting gifts from strangers.
“It’s not a big deal. Trust me.”
“I could pay you for it?” If I sell my firstborn…
He laughs. “No. You can have it. Seriously, I have a couple.”
Wow. I’m almost tempted to take him up on his offer but I'd feel bad. He could probably sell it on eBay for a crazy amount of money.
“So how come a nice girl like yourself is out alone at night?"”
“Oh.” I bat away a mosquito noisily buzzing by my ear. “I went down to the Cave with friends, but I don’t know…they know a lot of people and they’ve spent a lot of time here and I just…I don’t know.”
“Didn’t feel like you fit in?”
I chuckle without humour. “Yeah. I guess so. I’m not really social. I mean, I have friends, but I just…I spend a lot of time with my family and for the longest time, I focussed on school.”
“Must be nice.”
“What must be?”
“To have such a close family.” He digs his hands in his jean pockets and his shoulders rise as he straightens his arms.
“They’re everything to me.”
“Hmm.”
Our pace slows as we settle into a nice conversation. My nerves get the better of me and I end up talking a mile a minute. Why do I always do that? Dean is nice—really nice. And I like talking to him. But more than that, it's the way he looks at me, with a shy smile before dipping his head and rounding his shoulders; I might just be smitten. He’s exactly the kind of guy I'd like if I wanted to date someone. And he might just be the perfect distraction from Sullivan, who creeps into my thoughts more often than I’d like.
When we reach my cabin, I slow to a stop and he turns to face me.
“This is me,” I say.
“It’s big.”
“There are sixteen of us that live here.”
“Good thing it’s big then, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. But I don’t mind sharing small spaces. I mean, I have three brothers and for my whole life we’ve all lived in a four-bedroom ranch house with one bathroom. My brothers can primp like divas and I had to fight for every minute I had in the bathroom.”
“Sounds nice. I have sisters but they live with their mothers.”
“Their mothers?”
He clears his throat and scratches his chin. "Three sisters and we all have different mothers. I probably have more siblings out there I don’t know about, too.”
“That sounds…complicated.”
“You don’t know the half to it.”
“Well, I suppose I should go in. It was really nice meeting you, Dean. Thanks for not murdering me.”
He offers a small shrug. “Anytime.”
I head for the cabin and linger at the door. When I turn he’s on the road, still staring at me.
“I hope I run into you again, Abby.”
My cheeks lift and I feel a flush of heat. I want to say, yeah, I hope so too, but I just duck my head and walk inside before sighing against the door. I’m here one day and I’ve already met two guys. This sucks; I didn’t come here for romance. I especially didn’t need anything to complicate my summer and now it seems it might be too late.
Five
IN NEED OF some grease to cure her nasty hangover, Nicole convinces Ella and me to go to a diner in town the following morning. Apparently they have the best eggs Benedict in the country. I’m keeping an open mind but I doubt they will come close to Candie’s Breakfast Buffet in Granville. My family and I go there every Sunday for breakfast. A ritual. It’s about fifteen minutes outside of Muskrat, and believe me when I say that piling all of my family into a sedan and driving the distance is about as entertaining as chewing tinfoil. Can you say backseat drivers? For some reason, I always get pushed into the driver’s seat—perhaps just so they can bug me about my driving. I follow the speed limit religiously to the point where I’ll cruise control it whenever possible.
“Don’t look now,” Nicole says, her voice almost a growl.
“Shit,” says Ella.
We walk inside, the bell jingling above the door. I see them immediately: Dean and Sullivan. Sullivan has his back to me and Dean greets me with a massive smile, making me return it but with a hell of a lot more color in my cheeks. Sullivan reaches his arm out over the back of the booth and turns—as if he’s interested in who Dean is looking at. His gaze rests firmly on me but then his eyes go round at the sight of Nicole. There’s a story here, one I intend on finding out. I head to their table and stop at the foot of it, Nicole on one side of me and Ella on the other.
“Hello again,” Dean says.
“Hey.”
I swear there’s a bead of sweat on Sullivan’s brow and Nicole glares at him like she wants to go Lorena Bobbitt on him.
“Are you okay, Sullivan?” I ask him, though I have a pretty good idea of why they don’t get along very well.
“You guys know each other?” Dean sits up a little straighter and looks at Sullivan with more than simple curiosity.
“We met on the plane,” I say.
Dean just nods, but his eyes are narrow, like he’s annoyed somehow. I almost wonder if I’ve managed to say something wrong, but I’m certain I couldn’t have managed it in the short time I’ve known him. Then again...
“Sullivan. Hope,” Nicole says.
Sullivan’s Adam’s apple bobs.
“I bet you don’t remember me, do you?” Nicole continues.
Sullivan opens his mouth but then seems to think better of it as he snaps it shut.
“I didn’t think so.” Nicole puts her hand on my shoulder. “Abby, if I were you, I'd steer clear of this douchebag and his asshole friends.”
Dean points to his chest, as if he’s unsure if Nicole is referring to him. “Hey! What did I do?”
This is not going well—and I kind of like Dean. I bite my lip, worried I’ve scared him off. Hell, I’ve probably scared Sullivan off too, and he doesn’t seem like a guy that intimidates easy. Nicole storms off and Ella looks back and forth between
Nicole and me before skipping off after her.
“Well, that was awkward,” I say, tucking my falling bangs behind my ear. “You sleep with her, too?”
He exhales sharply. “Probably.”
Laughing, I shake my head at him. “You’re not a sex addict, are you?”
He gives me an ‘oh, come on look’. “No. I’m not.”
“Okay, then. Dean, it was nice seeing you. Maybe we’ll run into each other again.”
“Maybe on purpose?” Dean says, his face bright and almost hopeful. So maybe he isn’t annoyed with me after all.
“Yeah, maybe,” I say, tipping my head and looking up at him from underneath my long lashes in an attempt at flirtation.
When I return to my friends and slide into the booth with them, Nicole is practically bouncing in her seat, heat steaming from her ears. “Don’t tell me you’re into Sullivan Hope?”
“We’re just friends.”
Ella and Nicole laugh.
“Sullivan wouldn’t even know how to be friends with a girl,” Nicole says. “If he’s being nice to you, it’s because he wants to get you into his bed.”
I take a breath and frown at her. “I’m well aware of what Sullivan is like. I’m under no illusions; trust me. And he knows that I know. So I asked him if we could be friends and he seemed like he was alright with it.”
Nicole leans back in her seat, looking sceptical.
Ella just frowns at me before saying, “You know, people can change.” I’m not sure if she’s trying to convince me or her.
Nicole clucks her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “No. People don’t change, especially jerks like Sullivan Hope.”
I wonder why Nicole hates Sullivan so much? I’m about to ask before Ella fills me in.
“Nicole had a major crush on Sullivan the first summer she came here. He totally romanced her one night at a bonfire by Goose Waterfall.”
Nicole leans in, propping her elbows on the table and taking over the conversation. “He screwed me, took my number and never called, and whenever I saw him and tried to talk to him, he brushed me off."
“Oh. I’m sorry, Nicole.”
“Whatever. I’m over it. I just don’t want to see you get hurt too. Guys like Sullivan don’t respect women. They use them and abuse them. You’ll see if you spend any time around him. So don’t think you’ll have some storybook romance with him because it’s never going to happen.”
“Well, to be honest, I’m not into him. I mean, he’s hot, don’t get me wrong, but…he’s just not my type.”
“Sullivan is everyone’s type,” Ella says.
“Yeah, before they know what he’s like,” Nicole adds.
“But his friend, Dean…” With my head, I motion every so slightly to the table where Dean and Sullivan sit at. “I met him last night and he walked me home from the Cave. I don’t know. I think we kind of hit it off.”
“Dean Howard?” Nicole says. She leans back and folds her arms across her chest, scrutinizing me from behind her narrowed eyelids.
“Yeah.”
“Now Dean…Dean’s a different story,” Ella says. Her words are low and come out almost like a sigh.
I must look confused because Nicole jumps in. “Dean usually only comes here for a week or so and I’ve never seen him with a girl, but he’s nice to them. He held Amy Allen’s hair back last year at a rave in Canmore. He’s beyond loaded and his father is some famous singer in some rock band.”
I swallow a lump in my throat. Howard. Shit. “Chemical Meltdown?”
Ella’s face lights up as she points to me. “That’s it!”
Well crap. Don’t I feel like an idiot. Here I was, gushing over his father’s band last night. I probably sounded like some crazy fan girl. How unattractive did I look to him? And he held some girl’s hair? Walking me home probably meant nothing to him at all. He was just being nice. But he definitely gave me the impression he’d like to see me, maybe as more than a friend.
“Abby, if you’re looking for a quick romance then maybe he’s your guy, but…he won’t be here long. He never is.”
“Yeah.” I pick up the menu, my eyes travelling down the list. “I just think he’s nice. It’s not like I’m going to do anything about it.” And I won’t. I’ve never pursued a guy and I’m not about to start now. Having Ella and Nicole put things in perspective also reminds my why I’m here: to work and not to date. He would be a distraction. Yes. A big one.
We order our food and while we wait for it to arrive, Nicole complains about how shitty she feels.
“I drank way too much last night,” she says after a yawn.
“What happened to you, anyway?” I ask her. “I thought you and your boyfriend were fighting?”
“What? Because of the phone call?” She swipes her hand through the air. “Bitch, please. That’s all we manage to do…well that…and…” A grin claims her face.
I put up my hand. “Never mind. I don’t need details.”
Our food arrives and we all dig in, but as I inhale mine, Nicole and Ella simply pick at theirs. “So this thing you have with Taylor…it’s not serious then?”
She shrugs. “Who knows? He drives me crazy—in more ways then one—but I don’t know…I can see us lasting the summer. He’s as crazy as I am and that’s got to count for something, right?”
“Absolutely,” Ella says. She wipes off some ketchup that falls from her home fries onto her chin.
We finish up and pile into Nicole’s car. She’s going to spend the day with her boyfriend so she drops us off at the cabin. I’m totally jealous of her car. She drove here from home and I wish I could have done the same. Having a car sure does make you feel a little more independent. Instead, I’m kind of stuck here at the resort. If I wanted to go and do anything, I'd have to take a cab or ask for a ride, or maybe just tag along. I hate that I just can’t take off and spend some time by myself.
Back in my room, I Skype with my brothers and my dad. They’re all over at his house watching a football game on satellite. The TV is loud in the background and I notice the house is still tidy—or at least the living room is. Dad must have cleaned up because my brothers sure as hell don’t clean. Not a single trinket is out of place. The upper right hand side of the computer screen shows the fireplace and, in particular, a framed photo of my dad, my brothers, my mom and me. It makes me frown. Seeing her still makes me clutch at my chest, like I have a wound there, still raw, still burning with pain.
Dad and my brothers are distracted. They kind of set the computer up behind them, facing the TV, and I see the backs of their heads. Dylan and Michael have their standard military cuts, still square and perfectly tapered in the back. They must have just got it cut. Clay’s is messy and hidden under his Oilers hat.
I don't really watch the game. I minimize the screen and open another window for the Internet. While I surf I just kind of listen to them talk infrequently and yell at the TV. It’s kind of like I’m right there with them. After the game’s over I say good-bye and sit in my room, staring at the wall. It’s quiet in the cabin today. Everyone is down at the lake. I can see them down there, tanning. I could go… That’s where Ella went with a few of the other girls in the cabin, but I’m just not feeling it. I’m kind of home sick and need a few minutes to myself, but eventually, sitting in my room makes me feel claustrophobic so I grab a book and start walking.
I find a duck pond not far from the cabins with a fountain in the centre and nearby I lay a blanket on the ground by a tree. With my back against it, I start to read, and pretty soon the warm sun makes me feel sleepy. When I wake, my stomach is growling and the temperature has dropped, making my bare arms prickle with goose bumps. I fold my blanket and stuff it under my arm before making my way back to the cabin where Ella and the other girls are dressed for clubbing in short dresses and barely-there skirts. Their hair and makeup are flawless, like a makeup artist did it. Putting makeup on was never a skill I learned. I was young when Mom died and my dad and my brothers wer
en’t exactly subject matter experts.
“Wow,” I say, “You guys look amazing.”
“We’re going to the ranch. It’s a country bar and Chelsea Finnigan is playing tonight! You in?” Ella asks.
I have no idea who that is, although I’m sure she’s great whoever she is.
I glance down to find each of them wear cowboy boots in place of heels.
“I don’t want to hold you up. Look at me.” I pick at my tank top and baggy capris. “I’m hardly dressed for clubbing.” I don’t really want to go, though I still have the rest of today and tomorrow before I start my placement, and if I don’t find something to occupy my time then I’m going to go cuckoo.
“We’re having a few drinks here first. So go shower! We’ll wait.”
Hanging out at a bar with new friends or reading a book alone in my room…hmm…what would be better? It’s actually a toss up, but in the end, I choose the bar, my father’s words ringing over and over in my ears. Live a little. You know what? I should. Maybe I’ll find something I was missing.
“Go! Now!” Ella slaps me on the butt and I rub it after. She’s got a hard hand. But she gives me the push I need to get myself in gear. Within twenty minutes I’m showered, my long hair is pulled back into a braid and I’m in some cut off jeans, a tank and flip flops.
I walk downstairs and all eyes are on me. Ella smiles at me while the other girls just kind of stare.
“What?” I ask. I put my hands up and glance down at my clothes and my blue green flip flops.
“Nothing,” Ella says. “You look great.”
But somehow I don’t think she means it. She’s smiling but it’s insincere. In comparison, I’m dressed pretty casually and I don’t own a hat or boots. Country just isn’t my thing. Neither is getting all dolled up. I don’t have a stitch of makeup on and unlike my new friends, I haven’t curled my hair or spent an hour ironing it poker straight. I don’t live up to their appearances but I wouldn’t be comfortable in my own skin if I did. I would feel like I’m trying too hard. But that’s just me.