by Garza, Amber
“Sure thing,” I say, picking up a piece of greasy bacon and crunching down on it. Mom heads out of the kitchen, and I hear her feet as they travel up the stairs. A knock sounds at the side door, and I jerk my head in the direction of it. In the little window I spot the familiar dark hair and imposing build of my next door neighbor, Cole.
Pushing my chair back, I get up from the table. After wiping the bacon grease from my fingers, I head to the door and swing it open.
“Hey, man.” Cole grabs one of my hands and pulls me into a one armed bro hug. “I saw your bike in the driveway, and I assumed you must be home.”
“Good to know that no one else is using it while I’m gone.” I grin.
“Nah, no one else in your family is crazy enough to.” He laughs. “Are you home for the summer?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Cool.” He smiles, shoving his hands into the pocket of his black pants.
Cole and I have been close friends since we were kids. “Come in, man. Mom made enough food for a small army.” I indicate the contents on the stove and countertops.
“Nah, I gotta take off or I’ll be late for work.”
That’s when I notice his shirt, bearing the emblem of the gym where he worked in high school. “So, you still work at the gym, huh?”
“Yeah, you should come by and work out sometime.”
“I’ll do that.”
Cole runs a hand over his short black hair. “ Great. Wanna hang out later tonight?”
“Sure. Just text me.”
“Sounds good, man.” Cole waves, and walks back toward his house.
As I watch his retreating back, I wonder what he’ll think if he knows I’m hanging out with Ivy again. He was one of the first people who told me I needed to stay away from her. In fact, it took weeks after the incident before he’d even look me in the eye again. Eventually he forgave me for what I did, but I don’t think he really ever understood. Then again, he’s not alone in that. I don’t think anyone does.
I feel nervous as I knock on Ivy’s door. I’m not sure how she’ll react to having me show up unexpectedly again. When I left last night she didn’t exactly encourage future visits. Behind the closed door I hear the shuffling of feet, and then the sound of the lock opening. I take a deep breath as the door swings open.
“Oh, hey, Asher.” Billie leans against the door-frame, a smile on her face. She’s much more covered up today, sporting jeans and a t-shirt with a picture of some rock band I don’t recognize. Her hair is tousled, and she isn’t wearing any makeup. I realize that she actually is really pretty with her smooth pale skin and dark eyes.
“Hi, Billie. Ivy around?”
“No, she’s at work.”
“Okay, maybe I’ll come by later.”
“She’s working until late tonight and then she’s heading over to her grandpa’s.” Billie gives me a rundown of Ivy’s day.
I smile. “Well, then I guess I know where I’m having lunch.”
Billie gives me the once-over. “You might want to change first.”
I glance down at my cargo shorts and t-shirt, and nod in agreement. “Good call. See you later, Billie.”
Sunny’s Steakhouse is much nicer than its name implies. The first time I ever went with my parents I assumed it would be a greasy diner, but it’s actually an upscale restaurant. It’s the place everyone in town goes on their birthdays, anniversaries and other special occasions. Based on the high priced menu, I’m sure that Ivy and Billie make a killing in tips. That must be how they can afford an apartment in Folsom. I know rent’s not cheap. I think that’s why most of my friends who stayed in town still live with their parents.
But Ivy was one of those girls who couldn’t wait to be on her own. If it weren’t for her grandpa’s condition, I’m sure she would’ve went away to college. Honestly, she’s too smart not to.
It’s late afternoon, and it is stinking hot outside. Sweat rings the armpits of my shirt. I wish I could still be in shorts and t-shirt, but Sunny’s has a dress code, so I’m wearing black pants and a white collared shirt. I enter the restaurant and am immediately blinded by the hostess’s impossibly white smile.
“Welcome. How many in your party?” She glances around as if she’s expecting another person to walk in any minute.
“Just one,” I say, and realize this probably doesn’t happen very often.
She tosses a strand of her bleached blond hair over her shoulder and bats her eyelashes at me. The girl is probably seventeen or eighteen, and is pretty cute. She’s no knockout like Ivy, but I’m sure her charm works on plenty of guys.
“Really? What’s a guy like you eating alone for?” She leans over the little desk that she’s standing behind.
“Everyone’s gotta eat, right?” I shrug. “Hey, is Ivy Johnson working today?
The girl's smile curls downward into a frown. “Yes, she is.”
“Cool. Can I get a table in her section please?”
“Wouldn’t you rather just sit in the bar area, since it’s just you? I mean, no sense taking up a whole table, right?”
I shake my head. “No, I’d rather sit at a table.”
The girl nods, pursing her bright lipsticked mouth. “Fine.” She picks up a menu. “Right this way.”
I follow the hostess toward an intimate table near the back wall. When I pass a table with a group of girls at it, they all turn in my direction. There are gift bags and presents clustered in the center of the table, and I surmise that it must be some kind of birthday party. My heart drops when my gaze connects with the girl nearest the presents.
“Asher Porter?” She leaps up from her table, and bounds in my direction.
“Hey, Peyton. What’s going on here?”
She envelopes me in a perfumed hug, her fake nails poking me in the arm. “It’s my birthday, silly. Don’t you remember?”
“Oh, right.” I clear my throat. “Happy Birthday.”
She smiles at me, one hand still lingering on my arm. Peyton is even more fake looking than the last time I saw her. Her hair is so platinum it’s almost white, her teeth look like they’ve been through too many rounds of whitening, and it’s a horrid contrast to her tanning obsession. I wonder what I ever saw in her. My eyes catch sight of her tiny waist and boobs hanging out of her shirt, and then I remember.
“Are you meeting someone?” Her eyes shift back and forth.
“No,” I respond honestly.
“Sir?” The hostess says, and I jerk in her direction. I had completely forgotten that she was there. “Want me to take you to your table?”
“Yeah,” I say to her. Then I turn to Peyton. “Sorry, Peyton, I’ll talk to you later. Enjoy your birthday lunch.” Glancing back at the table, I recognize a couple of the other girls from Peyton’s crowd and I wave in their direction.
“Wait.” She latches onto my arm. “Come join us. Please. It’s been such a long time, and you don’t want to eat alone, do you?”
“I really shouldn’t.” I move away from her, attempting to pry off her fingers.
“No. It’s not a big deal, really. I’ll ask the waitress to get us another chair.” She smiles in a way that makes my stomach churn, and waves her hand toward someone over my shoulder. “Oh waitress, can we get another chair for my friend here?”
As soon as the words are out of her mouth I know exactly who she’s talking to and why. I shake her hand off and turn to see Ivy approaching with a chair.
Ivy smiles tightly as she drops the chair next to the table. “Sure. Here you are.” She glares at me. “I’ll be back in a minute to take your order.” Then she spins around and stalks off.
“Well, she’s friendly.” Peyton says sarcastically to her friends, and they giggle in unison. “Maybe I should complain to the manager.”
“That was not cool, Peyton,” I say through gritted teeth.
“What?” Peyton gives me her most innocent look. “I didn’t do anything wrong. You saw how she acted.”
“You know wh
at you did, Peyton, and you know why I’m not joining you for lunch.” I turn around to face the hostess. “I’m really sorry about that. You can take me to my table.”
“I can’t believe you’re still defending her,” Peyton calls after me, but I don’t bother turning around.
5
Ivy
My heart arrests when I see Asher with Peyton. It’s bad enough that I have to wait on her and her band of stuck-up friends, especially when they keep teasing me about the past. But it’s going to be brutal to have to wait on Asher as well. Why didn’t he tell me last night that he was planning to come here for Peyton’s birthday lunch? It seems like that was something he should have warned me about.
I lean my head against the wall in the kitchen and exhale.
“You okay?” Brandon, one of the busboys asks as he enters through the swinging doors with a pitcher of water in his hand.
“Yeah, fine.” I nod, push myself off the wall, and mentally prepare myself to deal with Peyton. It’s not like I can stay hidden in the kitchen all afternoon, as tempting as that sounds.
I head out into the dining area and walk straight into Asher’s chest. His musky scent swirls around me making me momentarily dizzy. I take a step back, and narrow my eyes at him.
“You could’ve told me you were coming here with her.”
Asher’s lips curl upward. “Are you jealous?”
Anger ignites in my gut, and I shove him away. “I need to get back to work.”
“Ives.” He grabs my arm, and his touch sends unwanted tingles rippling down my flesh. “I was joking. Look, I didn’t know she was going to be here. I came to see you.”
“Oh, waitress,” Peyton croons from her table. “We need drink refills.”
I stare hard at the ground. “Well, you shouldn’t have. I’m really busy today.”
Pushing past Asher, I move swiftly over to Peyton’s table. As I take the two empty glasses, I hear giggling and whispering spiraling around me. My cheeks warm, but I keep my gaze downward and try to block out the sounds. Only for some reason I’m having a hard time not letting it get to me. Maybe it’s Asher’s presence. I can feel him watching from across the room. As I turn from the table, my hands tremble and fill with moisture. I try to keep a firm grip on the glasses, but it’s a losing battle. One slips from my fingers and crashes to the floor. Luckily the cups are pretty thick and it doesn’t break. That doesn’t stop Peyton and her friends from erupting into a chorus of giggles though. I glance around the restaurant at the few other patrons in my section. They simply peer over in curiosity. I sigh, and bend over to retrieve the glass.
There is some soda on the floor, so I pull the rag out of the pocket of my apron and wipe it off. I wish I could hide under the table and never come out. This whole day is turning out to be super humiliating. I only hope the rest of the summer isn’t this way. Even though I had been gearing up for everyone to come home from college for the summer, I never could’ve been ready for everything.
“Better watch out, girls,” Peyton calls out. “She might accuse one of us of dropping the glass. That’s what she does. She makes up stories about people.”
“That’s it,” Asher’s voice rings out in the restaurant, causing me to stiffen. “You need to stop right now, Peyton!” Asher rushes in our direction, and gets right in Peyton’s face. “I won’t let you keep talking to her like that, so you can either be nice or you can leave.”
She recoils from the force of his words, her eyes widening like she’s stunned.
“Asher.” I stand, scouring the room. The other customers and a few of the waitresses are gaping in our direction. “Stop making a scene.”
He leans in close. “It’s fine. Let me help you.”
“I don’t need your help.” Holding the glasses tight to my body, I swivel away from him.
He comes up behind me. “I think you do need help. You were just letting them walk all over you.”
I spin around to face him. “It’s fine, Asher. It doesn’t bother me.”
“Well, it should bother you. You don’t deserve it.”
“That’s just the thing though, Asher. I do deserve it.”
He reaches out and encloses his fingers over my arm. “No, you don’t. It wasn’t your fault. Cam never should’ve laid a hand on you.”
“He didn’t hurt me.” I pull my arm back.
“Ives, I know you’re scared, and I get it. He denied it and everyone said you were lying, but I believe you. I always have.”
“Well, you need to stop.” I lock eyes with him. “Asher, what they said is true. Cam never hurt me. It was all a lie. I lied to you. The sooner you get that through your head, the better.”
“What?” He furrows his brows and tightens his lips, as if he’s trying to decipher what I’m saying. “No, it doesn’t make sense. Why would you lie to me?”
“I’m so sorry, but you were the one who jumped to the conclusion that it was Cam. And I tried to stop you, but you wouldn’t listen.”
“I know you tried to stop me, but that’s because you’re compassionate. Even after what Cam did, you didn’t want him hurt. It’s one of the many things I like about you.”
I sigh. “I didn’t try to stop you because I’m compassionate. God, Asher, please listen to what I’m saying. It wasn’t Cam. It never was. That’s the reason I tried to stop you.”
“Ives, you don’t have to do this with me. You can be honest. I know you, and I know you would never lie.” Asher steps so close to me that our faces are practically touching.
My heart starts to race. I step backward and almost bump into the wall. I grip the glasses tighter between my slick fingers. Behind Asher I can see Peyton and her friends chatting and laughing, and it turns my stomach. It’s crazy to me that I was ever part of that group. “I didn’t lie exactly. I just allowed you to believe something. Not that it makes it any better.”
He runs a hand over his head, studying my face intently. “You’re being serious?”
I nod. “Yes, I’m being serious. It really wasn’t Cam.”
Asher cocks his head to the side, appraising me. “Ives, you lied to me?”
I bite my lip, willing myself not to cry. The look on his face is enough to break my heart. “I’m so sorry.”
Anger flashes in his eyes. “But if Cam never hurt you, then….” His words trail off, and I know he’s thinking about what he did.
The expression of horror and guilt on his face is enough to make me sick. My stomach churns, and bile rises in my throat. It hurts worse than any words he could say.
“I have to get outta here.” Looking dazed, he turns around and walks slowly out of the restaurant. With every step he takes, I feel a piece of my heart breaking.
“You should have seen the look on his face, Billie.” I lie back on the couch, my arms behind my head and my legs propped up on the armrest. The TV plays one of those reality shows Billie likes softly in the background.
Billie sits on the ground in front of the coffee table. “Isn’t that what you wanted? For him to finally know the truth?”
I roll my head to the side to look at her. “Yes, but I didn’t expect it to hurt so bad when he lost faith in me. I mean, he looked at me the same way everyone else does, as if I’m trash.”
“He doesn’t think you’re trash, Ivy. He’s probably just shocked. Give him time to process it.” Billie picks at a thread on her jeans. “I mean, you did drop a major bombshell.”
“It’s not like I haven’t tried to tell him before.”
Billie gives me an exasperated look. “You should be grateful to have a guy like Asher who believes in you like that. I mean, he defended you even when everyone else turned their back on you.”
I blow out a ragged breath as the impact of her words hit me. “Well, that’s all ruined now, so it doesn’t matter.”
Billie leans forward. “Ivy, I really think you need to tell him the whole story.”
“No.” I sit up too fast and all the blood rushes to my head
. “It’s better this way. Now he can move on and forget about me.”
Billie shakes her head. “I don’t get it. I mean, if I had a guy like Asher I wouldn’t let him go.”
“I never had Asher. He was just a friend.”
“Whatever you say.” Billie rolls her eyes.
“It’s true.”
“I saw you together, and the chemistry between you two is crazy.” Billie pushes herself up to a standing position, and I fling myself back down on the couch. I want to deny her words, but I don’t know if I can. The truth is that I felt it last night too. Only I don’t want to admit it. There’s no point anyway. I doubt that Asher will ever talk to me again after today. As Billie heads into the kitchen, my stomach suddenly rumbles and I realize that I haven’t eaten since this morning.
“I’m starving,” I say.
“There’s leftover Chinese food in the fridge,” Billie says.
“Yum, that sounds great,” I say, licking my lips.
“Well, don’t move. I’ll bring it to you,” Billie answers sarcastically, opening the fridge.
I giggle, sitting up. Resting my chin on the cushions, I watch Billie pull a carton out of the fridge and dump the contents onto a plate.
“You didn’t eat anything at your grandpa’s?” Billie shoves the plate into the microwave and punches a few numbers.
“No, he wasn’t very hungry, so I just heated him up a can of soup.”
“How is he?”
“Not great.” My stomach churns. “He’s getting weaker by the day. Mom is thinking of moving him into her house soon.”
The microwave dings, and Billie pulls the plate out. “How do you feel about that?”
I shrug. “Fine.”
As Billie heads into the family room, plate in hand, she gives me a weary look. “It’s okay to admit when you’re sad.”
“I’m not sad, though.” I take the plate and fork from her, and place it in my lap. “I don’t know what I am. When it comes to my grandpa’s illness I just feel numb. Maybe because I’ve been dealing with it for so long.”