by Tracey Ward
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He steps in closer. He smells like a candle. Like Makena’s Tahitian Sunrise soap that’s apricots and oranges. “Your cheek looks kind of red. Did it graze you?”
I’m definitely blushing. I’m always blushing.
Slowly, the déjà vu feeling that I’ve had since I first saw him starts to fade. It’s like the two worlds I was living in for a second are lining up and everything isn’t so underwater blurry anymore. I’m not seeing double. I’m seeing him and me and the way the light plays in his dark hair like moonlight chasing shadows.
“No. It didn’t hit me. I think I’m—.”
“Freaked out?”
I smile at his intuition. “Probably.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying that,” I chuckle. “It’s not like you were actually trying to kill me.”
He grins playfully. “Not that you know of.”
“I wouldn’t doubt how much knowledge I have on you. It’s pretty extensive.”
“Really?” He crosses his arms over his chest, settling back on his heels. “What have you got?”
“You’re Kyle Rixton. You’re from Florida. You play basketball, though I hope you’re better with your hands than you are with your feet.”
“I am,” he laughs.
“Your mom wants you to play for the NBA, but not until you go to Florida State where she went,” I tell him with certainty. Makena must have told me that, though I don’t remember when. “But you don’t want to go there. You’d rather go West Coast.”
He’s smiling, unruffled by my insights. “What else do you know?”
I frown, shaking my head slowly. “I don’t know. Nothing.”
It’s a lie. I know more. A lot more. It comes rushing at me like a wall of water to shore in a tsunami.
I know his favorite color (yellow) and his favorite movie (Super Troopers). I know his house has a pool in the backyard where he likes to dive for weighted rings to keep his lungs strong. I know his dad has PTSD from his military service. I know his mom is a good cook but a terrible driver.
I know his room is blue and his sheets are gray.
“That’s it?” he challenges playfully. “That’s what you call ‘pretty extensive’?”
“Um, yeah,” I laugh at myself. I have to force it. I’m more confused than amused. “It’s more than you’ve got on me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Really? What do you know?”
“Your name is Sarah Underguard. You have three brothers, one cat, and two dogs. Both huskies.”
“This is all completely wrong, but keep it coming,” I insist, feeling oddly relieved that he doesn’t know as much about me as I know about him.
“You’re a Libra, you can’t swim, and you had French toast for breakfast, when what you really wanted was waffles.” He smiles. It’s as arrogant as his stance. “How’d I do?”
“Terrible.”
“Seriously?”
“Just about all of it was way off.”
“I didn’t get one thing right? That dog thing felt real. You look like a husky girl.”
“I’m going to ignore how insulting that sounds and give you credit for the one correct guess you made.”
His eyebrows rise excitedly. “What was it? Sarah? Underguard? French toast?”
I smile, shaking my head. “I’ll never tell.”
“Oh, come on! You have to.”
“You tried to kill me,” I remind him. “I don’t owe you anything.”
Kyle laughs, giving up. “Okay, yeah. But will you tell me one thing? As a favor? I’ll owe you.”
“Are we talking cash?”
“Whatever you want.”
“That’s a big debt. What if I have expensive tastes?”
“You don’t look like the type.”
“Again,” I laugh, “I’m moving past how insulting that sounds.”
“Thank you.”
“Hit me with it. What do you want to know?”
“What’s your name?”
“Sarah Underguard.”
“Nah, for real,” he laughs. “What’s your name?”
“Grace Murray,” I relent.
Kyle offers me his hand. “I’m sorry I almost killed you, Grace Murray.”
I smile, pressing my palm into his. “I’m not, Kyle Rixton.”
His grin widens. His hand holds mine a second too long, but not nearly long enough.
“Murray!” Coach Biggs shouts across the echoing room. “Quit flirting with the new kid and get in the locker room! Three laps warm up before volleyball! Go!”
And, I’m mortified.
chapter seventeen
Kyle’s truck is warm. His smile is even warmer.
He saved me from walking home in the snow. Just as it was starting to fall, he pulled up by the sidewalk where I was trudging home and offered me a ride. I didn’t hesitate to say yes, but I didn’t expect the ride to turn into an hour-long conversation in his car. I’m glad it did, though. Makena will be proud of all the things I’m learning about Kyle, even though it all feels like a confirmation instead of a lesson. It’s the weirdest thing. It’s like everything he says is something I was expecting. Like déjà vu on steroids.
“You suck,” I laugh at him.
“I do,” he agrees. “Sorry.”
“You’re not sorry.”
“No. But ask me what Utah has that Florida doesn’t.”
“Me,” I say, cutting to the chase because I just know that’s what he’s going to say.
“You,” he agrees seriously. His face is earnest and unafraid. His eyes hold solidly to mine in this hypnotic way.
“I knew you were going to say that.”
“It’s not a move,” he insists. “It’s the truth.”
“It’s so a move, but it’s a good one. I like it. You’re in the clear. Unless,” I put my hand on his arm, drawing his eyes to mine. “Have you already used it on other girls? I wasn’t the first, was I?”
He chuckles, looking away. “Never mind.”
“No! Come on. How many?”
“A gentleman never tells.”
“A gentleman doesn’t use the same line on every girl in school!” I laugh at him.
He chuckles. “I haven’t said that to any other girl at school. I promise.”
“For all I know, you’re a psycho. You could be lying about everything, including your name. How good is your word, really?”
“Even better than my jump shot.”
“I’ll have to see you play before I know how good that is.”
“I’m trying out for the team on Friday. You should come watch.”
“I don’t love basketball. I like outdoor sports.”
“Then just come watch me. I’ll make it fun for you.”
“I might have to just to find out how honest you are.” I settle back into my seat so I can look out the windshield instead of at him. He likes it when I’m looking at him. He knows how distracting it is. “Tell me another bad thing about Florida,” I demand lazily.
He laughs quietly. “I can give you more than one.”
“I’ll take one for now and let you know if I need another one later.”
“Alright. Gators.”
“The animals or the football team?”
“Animals. I actually like the Gators.”
“You would.”
“Ouch?” he asks, unsure if that’s an insult or not.
I don’t really know either. I just felt like being mean to him. It feels like more people should be mean to Kyle to keep his ego in check. “You had it coming.”
“For what?” he demands on a laugh.
“For being ridiculously suave. It’s not safe. Now tell me something good about somewhere else.”
He shakes his head stubbornly. “You didn’t say please.”
“I know.”
Kyle chuckles at me. He settles back into his seat with a deep sigh. “Alright. Where do you want to hear about?”<
br />
“Everywhere.”
Kyle tells me about living in Texas. And then Washington state. He talks about tall trees and running rivers, and it sounds a lot like Utah. I demand he switch gears and tell me about the beach again. I want to hear about the texture of the sand and the way it feels when it’s stuck in your shoe. He tells me about bonfires on the beach in Hawaii. He used to surf all day and then sit by the ocean when the sun went down and the air got cold. Not Utah cold, but light jacket kind of cold.
“Are there sharks?” I ask, thinking of Ashley.
“I’ve seen them.”
“Have they ever gotten close?”
“A few times,” he answers evenly. “But I’ve never seen them attack.”
“I’d cry. I’d pee and I’d cry and I’d drown. Probably in that exact order.”
Kyle laughs. “Nah, I doubt that. You’re braver than that.”
“I promise I’m not,” I chuckle. “Pee. Cry. Drown. That’s my motto.”
“I want that on a bumper sticker.”
I smile. “You can’t have it. It’s mine.”
He smiles, giving up. “You’ve got a sister, right?”
“Yeah. Ashley. She’s thirteen. What about you? Do you have any siblings?”
“You don’t know?” he teases. “I thought your knowledge on me was ‘extensive’.”
“It has some gaps. My spies aren’t what they used to be.”
“It’s just me,” he admits. “I’m an only child. It gets lonely. You’re lucky you have Ashley.”
“Yeah, she’s alright,” I say, downplaying how much I seriously do love my sister.
“Mom said she has Autism,” he says delicately. It’s like a question but it’s not. He’s asking permission to ask about it, which is more than most people do. I have been asked point-blank, ‘What’s wrong with her?’ That question makes my stomach clench with rage.
“Yes,” I answer quietly. “She was diagnosed a few years ago. She’s smart as hell but she has trouble with people. And sensory stuff. We had a hot tub for a while but she couldn’t get in it because she felt like it was burning her. She really wanted to get in with us but it kept causing meltdowns so we sold it. I miss it. It was nice to soak in after an entire day of running races on the mountain.”
“That sucks.”
“It’s fine. It was hard for her to see us use it without her.”
“I’m jealous you have a sister to take the focus off you. My mom is obsessed with me. She watches everything I do. She and Dad call my life The Mission. It’s insane.”
“I have the opposite problem. Mom doesn’t even see me. She’s too obsessed with Ashley.”
“I’m sure she sees you.”
“Yeah, when she needs to. I help with Ash a lot. Mom’s lucky she had a kid before Ashley or she’d be screwed trying to do it all alone.” Kyle doesn’t respond and I realize how ugly that sounded. I wince, shaking my head. “Sorry. That was—that’s not how I really feel.”
“It’s okay if it is,” he assures me quietly.
“No. It’s not. Trust me. I just . . . I wish I got more of the attention in the house, you know? I wish I didn’t feel so invisible all the time.”
He looks at me sideways, his face surprisingly earnest. “I see you, Grace.”
I smile at him warmly. “I see you too, Kyle.”
“What are your parents like?” he asks suddenly. “What’d they do for fun before you were born and made them lame?”
I laugh, surprised by the question. “I don’t know. Mom was pretty quiet, I think. Kind of like me.”
“But not your dad?”
“No.” I look him over carefully, appraising him. “I think my dad was more like you. He was sort of a big deal his Senior year. He almost made the Olympic team. It definitely went to his head.”
“I like him already.”
I laugh. “Of course you do. There was one time – you’ll love this.” I shift in my seat to face him. “He was up for a race and he knew he wasn’t going to win. The guy before him blew his record out of the water. He was toast. So instead of taking that loss and getting the best score he could get, he ran the run backwards.”
“Seriously?” Kyle chuckles.
“Dead serious. He didn’t want to lose so he basically forfeited in the weirdest way possible.”
“That’s crazy.”
“I think he used to be pretty crazy.”
Kyle’s eyes dance as he smiles at me. “What about you? Do you ever get crazy?”
“Oh, all the time.”
“Really?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “No. Never. I’m totally boring.”
“No, you’re not. You’re funny.” He grins. “I like funny.”
“Well thank God, because that’s all I’ve got.”
“Are you as good a skier as your dad was?”
“Not even close.”
“Can I come watch?”
“Watch me be mediocre? Sure. Bring everybody. Make a party of it.”
“I’m serious, Grace. I’d like to watch you compete. I bet you’re beautiful up there.”
I blush hard, turning my face away to hide it.
Kyle is kind of cocky, but I like it. It makes me feel arrogant too, like the fact that he’s not ashamed of anything means I don’t have to be either. It’s liberating in a way that makes me feel both wild and wary. Arrogance is confusing. It can be abrasive and annoying or it can be charming, like Kyle. That’s when it gets really dangerous. When it has a pretty face and a voice deep and rich as dark chocolate behind it.
“The season starts in December,” I tell him casually. “Mark your calendar.”
“I will,” he promises. “What day do you compete?”
“Saturdays.”
“Cool. I don’t usually have games on Saturdays.”
A blue SUV pulls slowly down the street ahead of us. Kyle makes a weird sort of grunt/groan sound in the back of his throat.
“That’s my mom,” he grumbles. He sounds seriously disappointed and I’m not sure if it’s because he needs to leave or because he doesn’t want to see her.
I glance at the clock. It’s almost four-thirty. “I can’t believe it’s that late. I should go.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. My mom will be home soon too. I’ll have to help with dinner.” I smile wryly. “We have to make two because Ash doesn’t eat anything that we do.”
“What does she like?”
“Mini-corndogs and ramen noodles. That’s her go-to but she’ll eat other stuff like chicken nuggets and French fries or hot dogs and Mac ‘n Cheese. Nothing Mom wants to make for the rest of us, though.”
“I like her taste. I’d kill for some mac with hot dogs cut up in it.”
“You’ll have to come eat dinner with her sometime.”
“Just tell me when.”
My smile falters. It stretches so thin I worry it will snap and shatter at my feet. “I’ll keep you posted.” I gather my bag off the floor that’s damp with the ice that’s melted off my shoes.
“Do you want help with your tire?” he asks quickly.
“No. Thanks. My dad will help me. He’s probably awake by now and wondering where I am.”
“You better get inside.”
“And you better get home. Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”
“Maybe we’ll have more classes together.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“I’ll see you later, Grace,” he says. He’s smiling.
I blush. “Bye, Kyle.”
I fall out into the snow. It crunches under my feet; the jagged ice hidden just under the fresh, soft surface. The heat from Kyle’s car hugs my body under my clothes. My nose is still filled with the scent of his soap and the air freshener that hung in the shape of a shaggy coconut from the mirror. It makes me feel light as air as I walk up the path to the house.
I hear his tires crunching up the road behind me. He’s pulling into our drivewa
y to turn around, heading back toward his house. I debate whether I should turn and wave to him. Should I smile one last goodbye at the hot guy with the beautiful eyes and the cocky smile? Or should I play it cool and act like he doesn’t matter?
Cool. I should play it cool.
But I’ve never been terribly good at that, and when I step on the porch, I can’t stop myself from turning to smile at him. Just once more.
Only, there’s no one there.
I pause, staring at nothing where a very large, white, warm something should be. The air is silent around me. His driveway is as empty as ours. There’s no sight or sound of him up the street either. And when I look at the snow-covered pathway leading up to the house, there’s not a single footprint to be seen.
Not even my own.
chapter eighteen
“Dinner in thirty, Ash!” Mom shouts after her as she disappears up the stairs.
“Okay!”
I look at Mom impatiently over the island. “How come you guys get to yell and I can’t?”
“Because if I chased her everywhere she went, I’d die,” she sighs, sounding exhausted. “She has way too much energy.”
“So if I’m more inconvenient, I’ll get away with more?”
“Don’t start, please. I’m too tired, Grace.”
“What am I starting?”
Dad puts his hand on my shoulder as he squeezes past me to the refrigerator. “Just let it go. Your mom’s had a long day.”
“So have I,” I remind him impatiently. “My keys disappeared, I had to walk to school—”
Mom frowns. “You walked to school? Why? We found your keys in the car before I left.”
“Yeah, but the tire was flat. I didn’t have time to fix it so I walked.”
“I wish I’d known. I would have driven you. It’s too cold to be walking. Was it snowing when you walked home?”
“Barely.”
“And she didn’t walk home,” Dad tells Mom in a teasing voice that’s meant for me. “She got a ride with the boy next door.”
“Across the street, not next door, and it was no big deal,” I remind him vehemently.
Mom smiles for the first time since she got home. “Really? Kyle?”