by Tracey Ward
“Sure.”
Kyle’s dad touches my shoulder gently as he passes. He gives me a quick squeeze of encouragement before disappearing down the hall.
“I’m sorry,” Kyle whispers immediately.
I shake my head, smiling as bright as I can. “For what?”
He doesn’t answer. He gestures for me to follow him to the living room. It’s a big, gray space with very little color. From the looks of the dining room, the whole house is like that. Swathes of gray walls with stark white trim and black picture frames. There’s the occasional palmy, green houseplant, but for the most part the place is very blah. I don’t love the décor in our house but it’s warm. Mom loves browns and reds. Deep greens and blues so dark they’re almost black. Like Kyle’s eyes.
He’s watching me carefully. He’s worried about what I heard but I don’t feel at all comfortable asking about it, so I smile carelessly as I sit on the brilliant white couch farthest from the fire.
“Your house is pretty,” I tell him, even though he doesn’t care.
He nods, sitting down on the couch next to me. He’s closer than I’d like in his parents’ house with them just a room away. “It’s alright. It looks almost exactly like our house in Florida did.”
“What does your room look like?”
“Do you want to see it?”
“No,” I answer immediately. I smile wider. “I mean, I do, but not tonight. Not right now.”
“Dinner will be ready pretty soon. We should probably stay here,” he agrees.
“Okay. Cool.”
“You’re hungry?”
“Yeah. Are you?”
He smiles. “I’m always hungry.”
I smile too. It feels strained. This whole night feels that way.
“This is awkward,” he whispers to me.
My smile loosens with relief. “I was worried it was just me,” I whisper back.
He leans in, shaking his head. His arm goes around the back of the couch behind me. “No. It’s everybody.”
“Your dad is nice.”
“They’re in the middle of a fight.”
“Seriously?”
“It’s a big one.”
“I can’t even tell that he’s angry.”
“That’s how you know it’s a big one,” Kyle explains quietly. He’s not whispering anymore but his voice is low. Muted to keep this just between us. The intimacy of the moment makes me feel more solid, like it’s us and them instead of me out here alone in an uncharted sea by myself. “Their biggest fights are always the ones no one sees.”
“No one but you.”
He frowns. “I see everything.”
“And hear everything?”
His hand shifts on the back of the couch, touching my hair lightly. It sends a shiver down my spine. “I knew you heard us.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“You’re not the one who should be sorry. She should be.”
“It’s not her fault. She’s watching out for you.”
Kyle shakes his head. His eyes are missing mine by about an inch, focused on his hand in my hair. I feel oddly disconnected from him because of it. “She should mind her own business,” he mutters bitterly.
I’ve never heard Kyle talk like that. He’s usually so positive. He reminds me of Makena that way. He rarely has a bad thing to say about anyone. The argument with the outsiders by the lake is the harshest I have ever heard him speak. This tone he’s taking about his mom is surprising.
“She doesn’t need to worry about us,” I tell him lightly, trying to bring him back up with me. “We’ve barely been on one date. It’s not like we’re getting engaged.”
I’m relieved when he smiles. When he swings his eyes around to meet mine. “Not yet.”
“Don’t say things like that,” I laugh. “She’ll hear you and she’ll hate me even more.”
“She doesn’t hate you.”
“She doesn’t like that I’m here, though, does she?”
“No,” he admits reluctantly. “She definitely doesn’t. But it’s not you. She doesn’t want me with anyone.”
“Me either, so we have that in common.”
Kyle smiles, his eyes lighting up at my rare show of possessiveness. He tugs gently at a strand of my hair, like he’s thinking, then he’s leaning in. His lips brush mine, warm and soft and so, so gentle it almost tickles. It makes me giggle girlishly in the back of my throat. He doesn’t touch me with any other part of him, but I feel my body flush excitedly anyway. The heat in the room spikes, threatening to melt my brain, but I don’t pull away. And I can’t stop smiling.
“Dinner is ready,” Mrs. Rixton says sharply.
Kyle pulls away, his head down. His hand is so tight in my hair, it almost hurts. “Alright, Mom. We’ll be right there.”
“Hurry before it gets cold.”
I listen to her leave, wondering how I didn’t hear her come in. “And it’s awkward again,” I whisper, feeling embarrassed.
Kyle nods solemnly. “Definitely awkward again.”
“We should get in there.”
He grins crookedly. “Are you sure you want to? We could run out the door, get in the truck, and hit the Buster Burger on the other side of town instead.”
“They have a bunch of them in Ogden.”
“I could do Ogden.”
“It’s hours away.”
“Even better. Or,” he leans in close again, kissing me softly. Shamelessly. “We could go to California. Get some In and Out.”
“I’ve never had In and Out.”
“It’s good. You’ll love it.”
“I’ll go anywhere with you.”
“Don’t say that unless you mean it.”
I smile, stealing a quick kiss. I feel breathless and loose when I whisper, “I mean it, Kyle.”
chapter eleven
November turns into December. School days turn into holidays. Vacation slips by too quickly, the joy of it fizzling out at the end of Scott Gardner’s New Year’s Eve party like a sparkler that’s lost the last of its spark. We celebrate with a small group of about fifteen people from school, Makena included. She’s here in Scott’s parents’ lake cabin somewhere, but I can’t see her. I don’t see Scott either, and that might be a clue as to where Makena is…
“Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”
The room is chaos. Horns are blowing. People are whistling. Kissing.
Kyle holds me close, his arms around my waist and his head down low, hovering over me. He’s smiling. He’s loose and happy and so handsome it should be illegal. Under the glow of countless white Christmas lights strung from the cabin ceiling, I feel like I’m in another world with him. It’s ethereal and impossible, but it’s sweet and I love it. I’m happy here. I’m his and he is mine, and that is the strangest magic I could ever dream of.
“Happy New Year, Grace,” he tells me quietly.
I smile, hugging his neck tightly. “Happy New Year, Kyle.”
“Did you make a wish?”
“Am I supposed to? I thought that was birthdays.”
“It’s a new year. It’s like a birthday.”
“Okay, hold on.” I make a show of closing my eyes tightly. “I wish, I wish . . . for a New Year’s kiss.”
“It doesn’t have to rhyme,” Kyle chuckles.
“I think it helps if it does,” I argue, opening my eyes reluctantly. “The universe is a poet.”
“Says who?”
“Says sunsets and wildflowers.”
“Okay,” he laughs. “I’ll try to remember that.”
“Can you remember it while you’re kissing me?” I demand impatiently.
He smiles before lowering his head. His kiss is tender. It’s slow and hot in a way that makes my toes curl and my stomach churn. He ties me in knots with the simplest of touches, and I wish I’d made a different wish.
I wish we were alone instead of at this crowded party.
We’re jostled fr
om the side. Kyle breaks the kiss, holding me tight to keep me upright as a herd of people goes rushing by.
“Where is everyone going?” he asks.
“Outside.”
“Why?”
“They’re streaking through the snow,” I reply blandly. “It’s a tradition.”
“I wanna see this.” He takes my hand, pulling me along behind him. “Come on!”
We run out into the cold together. The moon is full. It’s shockingly bright against the thick snow that’s pocked with footprints. Dotted with dark cloth.
“Someone is going to get pneumonia,” I mutter.
Kyle looks down at me, a wicked grin on his lips.
I shake my head hard. “No way. It’s freezing!”
“It’s fun!”
“It’s insane. I’m not getting naked in front of the entire Junior class.”
“No one is naked. They’re wearing their underwear.”
“Oh really? Then why do I see a lot of bras and boxers in the snow?”
“Okay, some of them are naked.”
He takes a step away from me. His hands take hold of the hem of his shirt.
I shake my head harder. “No.”
“Do you care if I do?”
“Do you care if I care?”
“It matters,” he answers vaguely.
I laugh at how many loopholes he’s leaving himself there. “Do whatever you want. It’s your frostbite.”
“Do it with me,” he pleads, pulling his shirt up over his head. Even in the pale moonlight, his skin is perfection. Unblemished and cut tight over the muscles in his chest. His stomach. His arms that make me weak with how strong they are.
“Nope. No thanks.”
“But it’s my wish.”
“Did you make it rhyme? It doesn’t come true if it doesn’t rhyme.”
“I wish, I wish you’d come out here and . . . strish?”
“What the hell is ‘strish’?” I laugh.
“It’s ‘strip’ mixed with ‘wish’. It was the best I could do under pressure.”
“It was pathetic.”
He unbuttons his pants. He kicks them off along with his shoes. “Come on. Do something you’ll regret with me, Grace.”
“Not a chance, but you have fun. Keep your shoes on.”
“That’s not streaking.”
“Neither is keeping your underwear on but you’re doing that.”
“Am I?”
“Aren’t you?” I challenge pointedly.
He grins, snapping the waistband on his black boxers. “I guess I am. Shoes too, huh?”
“Unless you want to lose a toe.” I nod to the group of lunatics running and shrieking through the snow behind him. “No one out there is barefoot. It’s not their first rodeo.”
“And you’re making me go to my first all alone,” he pouts dramatically.
“Sorry, cowboy. It’s not my thing. But I’ll hold your clothes to make sure no one hides them while you’re gone.”
“You’re the best, Grace.”
“I know.”
Kyle kisses me again before darting off into the woods around the cabin. People better be careful. There’s a cliff’s edge straight out from the front of the cabin. There’s no guardrail. Nothing marking the edge. Just a forty-foot drop to the iced over lake below. In the summer you can jump right off into the deep water. There’s a path that leads back up to the cabin but it’s buried in snow this time of year and any attempt to jump in right now would probably break your legs on the ice. It’s thick enough to drive on. It’s definitely thick enough to snap your femur.
I gather Kyle’s clothes off the porch and carefully fold them into a neat stack. The faint scent of orange fills my nose, making me smile. That citrus smell will always remind me of him. Of the way he smells like summertime even in the depths of winter.
Something slips from the pile, making a heavy thunk against the old boards of the porch. It’s Kyle’s phone. It lights up as it lands, showing me he has a new text message. He has it set up to show the first part of his messages without actually unlocking his phone, and I can’t help but see who it’s from.
Mom: Happy New Year baby! Be safe. Be smart. See y
It cuts off before I can read the rest. I’m tempted to unlock it and see what else she says. Some part of it will probably be about me and making good decisions, like not sleeping with me and letting me and my womb ruin his entire life. That’s a popular narrative with her. Or maybe she’ll make a suggestion about an open relationship the way she did on Christmas Eve. That was fun to hear about. Kyle was pissed when he told me. She almost ruined the holiday by starting that fight with him before we exchanged gifts, and I’m pretty sure that was her plan.
She couldn’t ruin us, though. Not that night. I gave Kyle a snow globe I made for him with an island scene inside it. He gave me a beautiful pink pearl on a silver chain. It even came with paperwork proving it’s from Hawaii. It was like we were promising each other an escape. One we plan on taking together, no matter what or who tries to get in our way.
“Snoop, snoop, snoop,” Marcy sings from the other side of the porch. “That’s not good for a relationship.”
I glance at her in surprise. I didn’t hear her come outside. “I wasn’t snooping. It dropped on the ground. I picked it up.”
She smiles knowingly. “And thought about unlocking it.”
“But I didn’t.”
“Because you don’t know the code.”
“Actually, I do,” I tell her briskly, shoving the phone deep in the pocket of Kyle’s jeans. “I just decided I shouldn’t.”
“Who’s it from?”
“His mom.”
Marcy makes a sour face. She wraps her arms around herself, leaning against a post. “Her. She’s a trip.”
“How do you mean?”
“You definitely know what I mean. If not, you’re blind.”
“How do you even know her? You guys sat together at the tryouts last month. That’s it.”
“My brother is in your sister’s class. They both have music with Melissa.”
I try not to bristle at the fact that Marcy calls Mrs. Rixton by her first name. Of course she does. She’s not dating Kyle. She doesn’t have anything to lose. Marcy could call her every ugly name in the book and it wouldn’t matter.
“Right. I forgot.”
“She’s obsessed with Kyle,” Marcy explains, as if I don’t know. “He’s all she talks about. She brags about him all over town.”
“He hates that.”
“I would too. It’s embarrassing. I wouldn’t stick around if I had to deal with her. I don’t care how hot Kyle is.”
“He’s worth it,” I reply defensively.
“Yeah, to you. You’re all in love with him. To the rest of us he’s a cool guy with a good body. Definitely not worth putting up with his stage mom.”
“She’s not so bad.”
Marcy looks at me hard like she knows I’m lying.
“Fine,” I admit, feeling a weird sense of relief being able to say it. “She’s awful.”
“That’s what I thought,” she laughs.
“She wants us to break up.”
“Well, yeah, because she can’t stand to share her precious baby angel.”
“I think she thinks I’m a low-class whore who’s trying to get knocked up to latch onto her superstar.”
“Are you?”
“Big time. It’s my whole life plan.”
“It’s solid.”
“Thanks.”
“That’s kind of what happened with your mom, right? Your dad was looking at going to the Olympics and she got pregnant with you?”
I glare at her with a cold fire that I feel through the base of my spine.
Marcy straightens up, her face pinching with genuine regret. “No, no, no,” she says hurriedly. “I didn’t mean it like that. I swear. I was just . . . it was a stupid thing to say. I wasn’t calling your mom a whore, I promise. I’m pretty buzzed. I
wasn’t thinking.”
I don’t know if I should believe her. Marcy is usually straightforward. She’s brash but she’s not a monster. And if she said something that she meant to be hurtful, she wouldn’t backpaddle on it. She’d stand her ground and dare you to come at her for it.
“That’s basically what happened, yeah,” I admit carefully.
She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. Seriously.”
“It’s okay.”
“My mom got pregnant her senior year of high school. She never went to college. She basically trapped herself in this town for the rest of her life. I was just saying it’s common here, you know? That’s the story for a lot of women in Jackson. They got knocked up and never got out.”
“My mom is paranoid it’s going to happen to me too. She keeps pushing college down my throat.”
Marcy snorts. “I wish mine would. She talks about me going to work at the lodge with her when I graduate. Like I want to be a waitress my whole life.”
In the woods not far from us, the group is shouting to each other. They’re playing hide and seek like a bunch of toddlers. Laughing. Chasing. Cheating. Lying. I can see Kyle hiding behind a tree, his tall body white as the moon. Shining brilliant as a star.
“What do you want to do?” I ask her quietly, my eyes stuck on Kyle.
“I don’t know. What do you want to do?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
“They say we can be anything but they’re lying,” she mutters bitterly. Her pretty face looks sharp in the dark. Like she’s cut from precious stone. “We can be wives and waitresses. That’s it.”
“I don’t want to be a waitress.”
“Me either.”
“I guess we’ll be wives.”
Marcy shakes her head hard. “Not me. I’m getting out of here. I don’t care what they say.”
“Where are you gonna go?”
“Anywhere but here.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“You want out?” she asks, sounding surprised.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know. You’ve got both parents. A nice house. Money. Your dad will give you his shop someday, right?”
“If I stayed, probably.”
“That’s not enough for you?”
I hesitate, feeling selfish when I say, “No.”