Falling for Forever (Before Forever)

by Melissa Chambers

  “I need that money for L.A.”

  I clench my fists out of the frustration of it all. “It’s more than the money for me.”

  She stares at me, waiting.

  I exhale a deep breath. I hate to admit what I have to admit to her, but she needs to understand. “I try really hard at everything I do. I’ve never gotten anything but an A. I care about stupid stuff like making sure you can’t see out of your blindfold during the trust test and us doing this assignment the right way. I was chosen to compose the rock opera last year over all the outgoing seniors, and trust me, they were plenty pissed. I’ve won every stupid art or music contest I’ve entered at that school since freshman year. I cannot lose this talent show competition. And if I’m with you, I’m afraid I won’t do my best, or I’m afraid you won’t do your best, and I can’t have that on me, either.”

  She stalks up to me, her lips scrunched into a wad. “Well, you’re not the only one who needs to win this contest to prove something. I need to show everyone I can win. I need to show you, and Bianca, and Nicolette, and all the other assholes at that school that I earned that spot Barclay gave me, because everyone thinks I’m a fraud. I’m not about to prove them right.”

  We stand there in my room, in the dark, illuminated by the black light, staring each other down, daring the other one to say the next words.

  “Miles!” my mom calls from downstairs.

  I drop the tension in my body and go to the door. “Yeah?”

  “Do you want breadsticks?”

  I look at Jenna. “Do you want breadsticks?”

  She crosses her arms over her chest. “Sure.”

  “Yes, please,” I call back and then shut the door.

  She looks me up and down. “So is that what you’re going to do for the show?” She mimics her fingers on the keyboard. “Your rock opera composing crap?”

  I cross my arms over my chest now. “No, actually, it’s not.”

  She lifts her chin with a little huff. “Then what are you doing?”

  I smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  She harrumphs. “I don’t care. I’m just asking for Shane. He’s curious.”

  I turn around and huff a laugh. “He’s the last person I’d tell.”

  “Oh, so he’s a bigger threat than I am?”

  I play a few notes on my keyboard. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  I cut my eyes at her. Her shirt has fallen off her shoulder, and there’s no bra strap there. If she’s trying to play dirty, it’s working.

  “You’re not even threatened by me, are you?” she asks.

  I turn to her, wondering what my best move is here. I don’t want to admit that I am, but I don’t want to give her any ammo. I just shrug.

  She gives me a snide smile. “Okay. That’s fine.” She walks toward me, slowly, running her finger along my desk as she comes. She shrugs. “You’re just being honest. I can’t fault you for that.” She steps right up to me, invading my personal space, my body aware of her in ways I never knew possible.

  She stands on her tiptoes and runs her hands up my arms to my shoulders. “Go ahead, Miles. Underestimate me.”

  Her lips hang there, inches from mine. The heat coming off my body could melt the polar ice caps.

  She runs her hands up my shoulders and through my hair. I close my eyes, taking in the feel of her touch on my scalp. She presses her body against me, and her lips graze mine, just barely.

  As I wake up downstairs, I pull back from her and turn away, working calculus equations in my head in an attempt to make it go back down.

  She runs her hand up my back. “Sorry, did I do something to make you nervous?”

  I sit on my bed and put a pillow on my lap. “No.”

  She grins, knowing exactly what she’s done, and I know now more than ever, that Dev was 100 percent right that I should keep my distance, and that I will 100 percent never be able to do that.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jenna

  Jasmine, Greta, and I sit at a table at Biscuit Love taking bites between two plates we’re all sharing. I cut into a bite of biscuit covered in tomato jam. “I think we could have all eaten off one plate,” I say.

  “Speak for yourself,” Jasmine says. She nudges Greta in the side. “So what’s the latest with Lauren?”

  Greta gets all cute and giddy. She’s had this huge crush on one of the lesbians since the first day of school. I’m so glad she decided to come out to Jasmine so the three of us can speak freely. Of course Jasmine was totally accepting in her cool, no big deal sort of way.

  Greta puts her fork down and rocks in her seat, settling into a story. “So, I always sit in the first row third seat in French. They aren’t assigned seats, but everyone always goes to the same spot anyway. I noticed that Parker Stadler was absent in Physics, so I sat in his seat today in French.” She looks between us like this is the hugest news on the planet.

  Jasmine and I consider each other. “Okay,” I say.

  Greta leans in for the kill. “His seat is next to Lauren.”

  “No!” I say.

  “Go on!” Jasmine says with another nudge.

  Greta nods proudly. “I totally talked to her.”

  “What did you talk about?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “The homework, a party she went to Saturday night in Sylvan Park.”

  “So did you drop any hints about wanting to hang?” Jasmine asks.

  Greta shrugs with a grin. “She mentioned that her mom had taken her to Five Daughters for donuts yesterday, and I might have said something like, ‘I’ve been dying to try that place. Maybe we could go sometime.’”

  Jasmine and I drum on the table in a show of excitement, and Greta giggles.

  “What did she say?” Jasmine asks.

  “She was like, ‘Yeah,’ but it wasn’t like, “Yeah,” it was like, ‘Yeah!’”

  “Yes!” I fist pump in the air and we all laugh, and then of course Jasmine and I have to start teasing Greta, because she clearly loves it so much.

  The front door opens, and Nicolette walks in. She gets in line to order. The mood shifts, and Greta promptly covers herself with her shell. Jasmine busies herself with another bite of cheese grits.

  “Is she still not talking to either of you?” I ask.

  “Nope,” Jasmine says. Greta just rolls her eyes.

  I push back from the table. “Well, I’m going to ask her to come sit with us. We’ve got plenty of food.”

  “No,” Greta says, grabbing for my arm and looking over at Nicolette.

  “Greta can’t be herself around her,” Jasmine says. “I don’t blame her.”

  I point at Greta. “That’s because she’s not out to her yet. Once she comes out to her, there might be an adjustment, but she’ll get there, and then you can all be cool again. This can’t be fun for you, especially in dance class.”

  Jasmine gives a nod of concession. “I know that’s right. It’s painful to watch. She won’t talk to us, so she’s been trying to get in with Bianca and the cotillion girls, and they’re rejecting her.”

  Greta looks down at the plate, sort of picking at a bite she’s pulled aside.

  “Are you ready to come out to her?” I ask.

  “No,” she says.

  “What about the rest of the school?” Jasmine asks.

  “I’m actually looking forward to that,” Greta says. “Then maybe the lesbians will be more likely to talk to me.”

  “Let’s do this,” I say. “With Jasmine and me here to back you. How can she make you feel like shit with us by your side?”

  Nicolette sees us and turns around, messing with her phone.

  “I’m going to get her,” I say, but wait for Greta to say no. She doesn’t argue, so I’m off. I sidle up to Nicolette in line, and she pretends not to see me.

  “We ordered too much food,” I say. “We got two biscuit plates and a side of cheese grits. It’s like enough food for the whole cast
of Dream Girls.”

  This gets her attention. She’s got pictures plastered in her locker from the original Broadway musical. “Dancers don’t eat,” she says.

  I look at the front counter. “Then what are you getting here, a Diet Coke?”

  She rolls her eyes and looks back down at her phone.

  “Seriously, Nicolette. How long are you going to stay mad at all your friends?”

  “Until they come to their senses and realize what a fake you are.”

  I cluck my tongue against my cheek. “I’m not sure that’s going to happen. They’ve been hanging with me for the past two weeks. Some serious friendship bonds can be born in that amount of time.”

  She practically snarls at me.

  I shrug. “I’m guessing the best way for you to stop me is to make your way back into the group. Tell them all how awful I am. Pick me apart limb by limb. Talk about my nonexistent boobs and my huge eyes. Call me a Sarah Hyland wannabe but without the cute nose.”

  Her glare loosens a little. “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “How come? You hate me.”

  “I hate who you are, not what you look like.”

  “Okay, then call me a liar, and a cheat, and a thief. Convince them that forgiveness is stupid. Tell them all how they should shut me out and make me suffer like you’ve suffered these past two weeks.”

  She puts her hand on her hip. “I have suffered.”

  “I’m sure you have. You’ve had no friends.”

  Her eyes widen. “Because of you.”

  “I know.”

  She looks around for help. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “You’re telling me?”

  She huffs, hand on her hip, staring at me.

  I point at the table. “So, like I was saying, we have all this extra food. Do you want to come join us?”

  She makes eye contact with Jasmine and Greta, who stare hopefully.

  Nicolette shifts her weight to her other foot. “Jenna Quigley, you are the weirdest person on the planet.”

  I tilt my head back and forth like I’m considering it. “Probably top ten, at least.” I tug on her shirt. “Come on.” I walk back toward the table, and when I get there, I see she is following me.

  I smile at the girls, who sit up straighter, ready to welcome her. I pull out the empty chair beside me and then motion to it. “For you.”

  She sits, frowning at me, but I think she’s going to give in.

  Greta sits up. “So, I’m gay.”

  Jasmine and I both giggle.

  Greta huffs, looking between us.

  “Sorry,” Jasmine says. “That was just a little more blunt than we expected.”

  Nicolette peers at the three of us like we’re nuts. “What is this? What are you all doing?”

  “Greta’s trying to come out to you, and we’re ruining it,” I say.

  Greta tosses up her hands. “Well, I’ve been hiding it for years, I’m tired of it.”

  Nicolette lowers her chin. “Really? You’re gay?”

  Greta nods, proudly, but yet, a little shaky.

  “For how long?” Nicolette asks.

  Jasmine laughs. “Probably since she was in her mother’s womb.”

  Nicolette shakes her head. “No, I know that. I mean, how long have you known…or been hiding it from me…or whatever?”

  Greta shrugs. “I don’t know. I had a crush on Olivia Rees in the fifth grade.”

  Nicolette’s jaw drops. “Olivia? But we were in class together in the fifth grade.”

  “So,” Greta says.

  Nicolette looks around the room, huffing. “Well, what was wrong with me?”

  We all die laughing.

  Jasmine puts her hand on the table in front of Nicolette, her long pink fingernails splayed. “Sweetie, I’m sure she thought you were lovely back then in your purple striped leggings and your girl power sweater.”

  Nicolette tries to stand up.

  “Sit down,” Jasmine says. “We’re just kidding you. This is hard for Greta. A little humor makes it easier. Will you indulge us, please?”

  Nicolette lets out a huge breath and then sits, frowning. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Greta shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s just…it’s been hard with you. You were always trying to get me to own my sexuality and my feminism.”

  “I only did that because you were shy with boys.”

  “I wasn’t shy with boys,” Greta says. “I was shy with girls. You could have helped me with that.”

  Nicolette hits the table with her hands. “I didn’t know.”

  They sit quiet for a minute, and we all sort of pick at the food.

  Nicolette sits up. “Well, I know now. Thank you…for trusting me.”

  Greta’s hard exterior softens. “You’re welcome. Thank you…for understanding.”

  Nicolette gives a single nod, and then she opens up with a small smile. Greta grins back and the two of them seem to exchange a look that is worth a world of words. Somehow, I think they are going to be okay.

  Miles and Dev walk in, and Nicolette lets out an irritated sigh.

  “So what’s going on with you and Dev?” Greta asks.

  Nicolette spoons some grits and then drops them on the small plate in front of her. “I’m still pissed at him. He picked Nat over me. How can I forgive that?”

  “He’s loyal to his friend,” Jasmine says with a look that indicates way more than her words. “I would hope you’d be that same way with us.”

  Nicolette glances between all three of us and then drops her shoulders. She looks over to them standing in line. “What are they doing here, anyway?”

  Jasmine shrugs. “I may have texted Miles.”

  I smile and then get another bite of biscuit.

  Nicolette eyes me. “What’s going on with the two of you, anyway?”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, playing dumb.

  “Well, last week you seemed like a couple who had broken up, but to my knowledge you were never even together. And then this week you’re both all competitive.”

  Greta laughs. “That was hysterical on Tuesday when we were debating which thing drives a song, music or lyrics.” She sits up straight. “They both jumped up out of their chairs citing famous writers and referencing all these songs.” She points at me. “Jenna even quoted some NPR article.”

  Jasmine looks shocked, as she should. I didn’t even know what NPR stood for before this week. I’ve been so competitive with Miles that I’ve taken to studying my ass off. That’s been one of the benefits of the hour and a half car ride.

  I shrug. “It’s just something I’m passionate about.”

  The guys eye us from the line, and Jasmine lowers her chin at Nicolette. “Can we call them over here? This is just dumb. You and Dev are like our school’s power couple.”

  Nicolette sits up tall at this idea, and Jasmine sneaks a smile at me. Damn, she’s good.

  Nicolette taps her spoon against her plate. “I suppose so.”

  Jasmine invites them over with a single nod. Miles nods back, and they head over after they pay. The guys sit on either side of Greta and Jasmine on the bench. “Where’s Nat?” Jasmine asks.

  “Production booth. He’s installing the new monitor,” Dev says.

  Nicolette glares at him.

  “So you girls are back cozy again?” Dev asks.

  “Yes,” Nicolette says. “My girls are loyal to me. Unlike some others.”

  Dev reaches for her arm, and she jerks it away, interested in her food.

  “Come on, baby,” he says. “Us guys are headed up to Miles’s parents’ cabin at Center Hill this weekend for his birthday. We want all of you to come.”

  I look at Miles and he shrugs.

  “All of us?” Nicolette says and then cuts her eyes at me.

  “Yes,” Jasmine says with authority, and I realize Jasmine already knew about this cabin thing. That must have been why she texted them to come here. Nicolette rolls her eyes.

 
“Oh, come on,” I say. “I’m not that bad.” I snatch the piece of bacon on her small plate.

  She turns to me, ominous. “Yes, you are.”

  I shrug.

  Dev nudges her arm again. “It’s got three bedrooms. We can have one all to ourselves.”

  Nicolette frowns, but I can tell she’s giving in. “What are we going to tell our parents?”

  “College visit,” Greta says. “The girls can say we’re staying with my sister at UT.”

  Jasmine shrugs. “Works for me.”

  Greta does a little shoulder dance. “Ooh, partay.”

  Jasmine jerks a thumb at her. “Are you really going to squash this one’s enthusiasm?”

  Nicolette’s mouth eases into a grin. “I guess not.”

  “So we’ll leave tomorrow right after school,” Miles says, watching me.

  I shrug noncommittally, but I’m totally going to this. A weekend with my new girlfriends to solidify our friendship and shamelessly taunt Miles in my spare time? Wouldn’t miss it for the world.

  “Cool.” Dev hits the table.

  Greta gets up. “Oh, and by the way, I’m gay.”

  Miles and Dev exchange looks, and then Miles smiles. “Cool.”

  Dev claps. “Yeah, Greta.”

  We all start clapping, and she takes an elaborate bow. “Thank you all. I’ll see you at the lake.”

  Miles smiles at me, and I get nervous. I hate that he does that to me. I don’t need to be nervous, I need to stand firm.

  “Man,” Dev says. “A lot can change in a couple of weeks.”

  Miles and I meet each other’s gazes again. “Mmm-hmm,” I say.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Miles

  My dad points to the cooler my mom has packed for the weekend. “Is this ready to go?”

  She scurries around the kitchen packing bags with groceries. “I think so. It’s just the three of you, right, Miles?”

  I nod, the little ache in my chest not letting me get away with the lie without guilt.

  She eyes the cooler. “I hope that’s enough for the weekend. It’s a good ways from the nearest store.”

  My dad pats her back. “I’m sure it’s plenty. Miles, what do you say to your mom?”

  “Thank you, Mom.” That will be the tenth time I’ve said it, but as far as my dad’s concerned, that’s not enough.