I nod slowly.
“You’re f-fifteen and you want to date me.” I chuckle at the way she’s talking to herself, trying to figure it all out. “Because I’m cute.”
I take her hand in mine, squeezing it. “I want to date you for a lot of reasons. I like you, Opal. I think you’re smart and funny. You’ve got a good heart, and care about everyone else’s happiness. And, yeah, I think you’re cute. Especially when you get nervous and start babbling. That’s adorable.”
Her face turns redder.
I thread our fingers together. “Question is, do you want to date me?”
Her eyes lock with our hands. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re my best friend, Bash. Having you in my life is important to me.”
“I’ll always be in your life, Freckles.” I flick her nose where a group of tiny brown dots are spread across her skin.
She giggles, causing my grin to spread.
“Yes, Bash Everly,” she finally says. “I’d like to date you.”
A timid smile plays on her lips like she’s soaking in what she just said.
“You know,” I tease, “you’re going to have to tell me all the reasons you want to date me. It’ll even the playing field.”
Mortification pinches her face, like the thought terrifies her. I laugh. Her skin tone should permanently be a rosy red around me, and I can’t help but tease her more.
“Like that I’m hot,” I add, winking. “Or that I’m an amazing basketball player. And that you secretly love when I talk about the constellations with you.”
She playfully shoves my shoulder. “Stop trying to embarrass me,” she replies, hiding her face. “And you’re only okay at basketball. Do you even want to be on the team?”
We’re walking side by side, our hands locked together. Our steps are smaller, slower. I think about my answer, already knowing what it is. I just don’t think she’ll get it.
“Not really,” I admit, shrugging. “But I need to do something. The guys told me that the basketball team gets invited out a lot. Plus, it’d be cool going to away games.”
She frowns. “But you like Clinton.”
I nod. “Yeah, but I want to travel. This could get me to do some. Plus, it’d look good on my transcript for college applications.”
She presses her lips together, meaning she has something to say but doesn’t want to say it. There are little signs that give her away—habits that I’ve learned to read on her by now.
“What?” I press knowingly.
She glances at me. “What about music? You love music. I know you don’t like talking about your dad, but he taught you to play the guitar. You’re good, Bash. Really good. And I know how much playing makes you happy.”
“I’m not that good,” I murmur. Dad barely taught me two songs. The rest I’ve tried learning on my own.
“You could practice,” she argues. “There are music clubs. Band. Choir. I know you don’t like singing, but don’t you think you should do something you love? Don’t join the basketball team just because your friends want you to. You need to be happy doing it.”
When we get to her house, she lets go of my hand. She’s right, and we both know it. Basketball would be a fun past time, but not something I want to dedicate every afternoon to.
I nod. “You’ve got a point. But I’m not joining band. They don’t have any room for guitar players.”
“Start one.”
Her words surprise me. “A band?”
She shrugs. “The music teacher, Mrs. Warren, would probably let you practice in her room after school. And if you wanted to start a band, you could all meet there. I’ve heard that one guy, Ian, mention that he wants to be a singer someday. You guys could make it work. And I’m sure Mrs. Warren could help you.”
This girl. I beam at her, and she looks at me like I’m crazy. She understands me better than any of my other so-called friends. They all think I live and breathe basketball like them. Besides Ian Wells, who used to be the town noob before I moved here. Nobody understands what I really love. Music.
And Opal gets that passion. The hunger that consumes me when I pick up my father’s old acoustic guitar, or the feeling that takes over when I brush against his worn pic.
“You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”
She rolls her eyes in disbelief. “I just know you, Bash. Anyone who hangs around you as much as I do would.”
But nobody else does.
We smile at each other for a long moment before we’re broken apart from her mother’s call.
“Opal, it’s time to come inside.” We turn to see her mother standing at the open door. I give her a small smile and wave, which she doesn’t return.
“Hi, Mrs. Anderson,” I greet.
She flattens her hands against her dress. “Hello Sebastian. Opal has chores to do, so she needs to come in.”
Opal nudges the ground with the tip of her shoe. “I need to go. See you tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
She starts to walk toward her house but stops. Turning around, she gives me a sad smile. “I think we should keep us quiet for now. You know, not let anyone know.”
My brows shoot up, but I find myself nodding. What I really want to ask is why, but she’s already inside before I can. Based on the way her mother looks at me as she closes the door, I feel like I already know the answer.
***
Starting a band became an obsession, one that took over my every thought since Opal had mentioned it. Even when Coach Adams came up and said I’d made the basketball team, all I could think about was going to the music room and talking to Mrs. Warren.
Drew talked my head off about upcoming basketball practice and the new jersey’s the school ordered for games, but half the stuff he said went in one ear and out the other. As we walked from homeroom, I finally had enough of his yammering and waved him off as he went to history class.
Thankfully our schedules aren’t similar, so the only times I really see the guys on the team are homeroom, lunch, art, and study hall.
As I round the corner, I tune out everything around me except for my laser-focus on the music room door. Not paying attention, I crash into something hard and with a squeal, books, pens, and papers go flying to the floor.
“Shit,” I murmur, snapping out of it.
The girl standing in front of me has blonde hair with purple stipes, and barely comes up to my chest she’s so vertically challenged.
“Sorry about that,” I apologize, kneeling to help her collect her things.
“It was on me. I don’t know where I’m going.”
“New?” It was a stupid question, considering I’d never seen her before. It’s rare to get a new person in this small ass town. I’ve been the new kid for practically three years.
She bobs her head, stacking her books into a pile before standing up. I pass her the last one, then stuff my hands in my pockets.
Before I can say anything else, Mrs. Derby, the vice principle comes stalking out of her office. Her hawkish eyes narrow in on me in accusation, and it’s not the first time. She always seems to find me in the halls when I’m not supposed to be. I’m certain she has a radar on me somehow.
“Mr. Everly, shouldn’t you be in class?” she scolds knowingly, crossing her arms on her chest.
New Girl quickly comes to my defense, looping one of her arms around mine. “He was actually showing me around. We were just about to go to—” She looks at her schedule. “—Mr. Wrights English class.”
Thankfully for her, I know exactly where that is since Opal is in it this period.
Derby stares at me trying to decide if she’s going to report me, but then paints a fake smile on her face. “How nice of him,” she tells New Girl. “I’d suggest making better friends if you like keeping your nose out of trouble, young lady. Mr. Everly tends to be places he’s not supposed to.”
New Girl smiles back, with a glean in her eye that screams she’s up to no good. “Unfortunately, Mr. Everly and I are already BFFs.
Can’t trade him in now. But we should really get going, I’d hate to miss Mr. Wren’s class.”
“Wright,” I correct her quietly.
“Pssh. Same difference.” She waves her hand flippantly in the air.
Before Derby can even respond, New Girl tugs us away from her, guiding us down the hall. When we’re out of hearing range, I snicker.
“We’re going the wrong way.”
She unwraps her arm from mine. “Then show me the Wright way.” She snorts at her own pun. “See what I did there?”
I roll my eyes. “What’s your name?”
“Ken.”
One of my brows shoots up. “Like the doll?”
She groans loudly as I redirect her down the side hallway that’ll lead to her class. “It’s actually Kennedy, but I hate it. Most people call me Kenny, even though my Mom doesn’t like it. She’s all like, ‘You’re not a boy, Kennedy, stop trying to name yourself after one.’ It’s kind of fun to piss her off, ya know?” She shrugs. “And you should see her face when we’re at family get-togethers. My cousin’s name is Barbara, but everyone calls her Barbie. So, naturally, there’s a running Barbie and Ken joke in there. Uncle Everett always tries to get a rise out of Mom by pointing out how she must have planned it that way since I’m a few months younger that Barb.”
I just nod along as she talks. And, man, can this girl talk.
She jabs my side with her elbow. “So, Mr. Everly, what’s the first name?”
“Bash. Well, Sebastian.”
“I like it.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
We get to the right room and I gesture toward the door. “This is your class. My friend Opal is in it.” I peer through the window in the door, locating Opal. Luckily, there’s an empty seat right next to her. I point. “That’s her in the front row. Red hair. Kinda shy. What’s your schedule look like?”
She passes it to me.
I glance at the line of classes before giving it back. “Opal and you pretty much have the same schedule, so she can show you around. But I’ll see you in art eighth period. We all have that together.”
She shoves her schedule in her pocket. “So this Opal chick. Is she your best friend?”
I smile. “Yeah.”
She sighs. “My luck. I guess that means we lied to Darby.”
“Derby,” I correct.
She rolls her eyes. “Whoever the bird-lady is. You can only have one best friend.”
My eyes go back to Opal, who seems focused on whatever lesson Wright is teaching. Total nerd.
“Yeah,” I say quietly, smiling to myself.
I guess that means Opal is it for me.
She nudges me again. “Put the goo-goo eyes away, you’re making me want to vomit. Anyway, thanks for helping me find the classroom.”
I peel my eyes away from Opal. “No problem. I should probably be thanking you. Derby would have given me detention if she saw me out during class time.”
“She hates you,” she states.
“Yep,” I say, letting the p make a popping sound.
“You’ll have to make it up to me by telling me why,” she says, backing toward the classroom. “Oh! And with cake.”
My brows pinch. “Cake?”
“Yep.” She tips her head once. “Consider it a ‘Welcome to Highschool Hell’ gift. Being that you’re my welcoming committee and all that. For the record, I like marble cake. Chocolate cake is too rich, but vanilla is too boring. There needs to be a balance of some sort.”
I snort. “Okay.” Did she really think they had marble cake here? The pie the student counsel sold on Pie Day was barely edible.
She waves me off as she enters the classroom. I watch her make her way to the front of the room, saying something to the teacher, before sliding in next to Opal.
Kennedy reaches her hand out to Opal, and she must say something, because Opal’s expression looks stunned as she nods slowly.
I’ll have to make a mental note to see what Kennedy told her.
As I turn around, Mrs. Derby is standing at the end of the hall, tapping her penny loafers impatiently against the grubby floor. I make my way to her since my math class is at the end of the hall and shoot her my best smile.
“You’ll be happy to know that Kennedy is in her class and learning all about Jane Austen as a symbolic figure of the eighteenth-century.”
She doesn’t look impressed.
I gesture toward my class. “So, if you don’t mind, it’s time I learn how algebra is going to help me exceed in life. Because I’m sure I’ll use it loads of times as an adult.”
Her beady eyes narrow again. “Just go to class, Mr. Everly.”
I salute her before slipping inside.
It’s been two days since my talk with Bash, and my mind still hasn’t recovered. When I got back, I’d replayed every word he spoke, dissecting every detail, every syllable.
Six years ago, I would have felt relieved that he told me he cared. That he was sorry.
Sorry. For such a small word, it made a big impact. Those five letters had the power to make or break a person—they were the difference between hatred and forgiveness.
I believed him, felt his sincerity. If we had split up with no other complications woven into our history, I would have forgiven him a long time ago. He was my first love, and he’d always have a place in my heart.
With Addy involved it was different. I wasn’t just forgiving him for breaking me. I’d be forgiving him for walking out of the promises he made about our future.
And our future was Addy.
But he doesn’t know that.
When I got home, I took Addy upstairs and watched her run around with Bash’s shining eyes and blinding smile. She was always so happy, so full of life. She could breathe air into something on the verge of death, bringing it back into life.
She brought me back to life.
We spent the night playing dolls and tea party, just enjoying each other’s company. When she went to bed, I curled up behind her until she fell asleep listening to me read her favorite book Goodnight, Moon.
Noah had called to tell me his trip was being extended another day—a good thing, he insisted. I guess the deal was in his favor, and they wanted to cement the details then and there rather than over the phone at a later date. I was happy for him, knowing this is what he wanted.
But my happiness faded when Addy woke up yesterday morning sick. She had a raspy cough and running nose and her normally tired smile was filled with ache and exhaustion.
And I had to work.
There were days when I wondered if I was doing this whole parent thing right. I had to work to support Addy and me, so I couldn’t leave her alone. Even though Kennedy came over as soon as I called, and even stayed the night to watch over her today, it didn’t make me feel any better about abandoning my baby.
In fact, it made me remember all the times that Mom would call in reinforcements when I got sick as a kid. Despite her unemployment, she couldn’t handle my sickness enough to stay.
Was I any better than her?
It was a bitter thought that I forced away before it sunk in any deeper. Every decision I made over the past six years was the exact opposite of what my parents would have done.
Thankfully, my thoughts are broken by a familiar chipper voice as the door opens.
“Hey, Opal!” Tessa Williams greets as she walks in, her usual bubbly personality lighting up the room. I don’t think she even knows she’s capable of it, but anytime she’s around everything seems happier.
Her parents have lived in town their whole lives, like my own. Even though Tessa technically lives with her boyfriend Will in the town over, she visits at least once a week.
My eyes go to her shirt knowing that there’s some random saying on it. Every time she stops in for something to drink she wears a new one. It’s become a welcome distraction to laugh over whatever is scrawled across her chest.
Today, she’s wearing a long-sleeved white shirt that says,
I’m not clumsy. Everything else just gets in my way.
“Same as usual?” I ask, grabbing a large to-go cup for her hot chocolate.
She nods, knotting her brown hair back into a ponytail. “I’ll need a coffee, too, for Will. Six milks, no sugar. He’s waiting outside, trying to calm Ollie down.”
We both look out the window to see her boyfriend standing there … with their cat on a leash.
I make a face. “Um … you’re walking your cat?”
She sighs. “Yep. Ollie hates it. Most of the time he just goes limp and makes us drag him until Will caves and picks him up.” She looks back at me and puts her hand at the side of her mouth like she’s about to share a secret. “He says he doesn’t like Ollie all that much, but between you and me, he babies that cat more than I do.”
She rolls her eyes and I giggle. “I haven’t seen you around lately.”
When there’s silence in return, I look over my shoulder at her. She’s nibbling her lip and avoiding my eyes, guilt sweeping across her soft features.
I pass her Will’s coffee first. “What?”
It isn’t exactly like we’re best friends. She was a year younger than me in school, so we barely ever shared classes. But we tended to hang with the same crowd back then, and I remember Bash teasing Will about her before they ever started dating.
She relents, shoulders slumping. “We’re in town visiting Bash. He kept inviting us over to see his new house, but we haven’t had a lot of time to. So …”
I put the top on her hot chocolate and pass it to her. “You don’t have to pretend you’re not friends with him.”
Everyone skirts around the fact that we’re not together anymore, and assume they’re not allowed to be either. I give her a small smile to let her know I’m serious.
“I’m not some heartless bitch who will judge you for it.”
She laughs. “You’re the last person I’d call a heartless bitch.”
The door opens, and Will walks in with a squirming, hissing cat in his hands. He holds it out in front of him like it has an infectious disease, a pinched expression on his face.
The Choices We Make (Relentless Book 4) Page 7