Cross Country Hearts

by Suzanne August

  “You can with my friends,” he says, and I don’t know why he has to sound so smug about it. “Besides, I’m always invited.”

  “I can’t believe this,” I mutter.

  ~.*.~

  Jasper instructs me to park in front of an aging apartment building with gray wooden stairs that look almost in worse shape than my car. They creak under my sneakers as we climb them, and I’m not sure if I could grip the railing any harder.

  “We’re going to knock on Lila’s door first. She’s more likely to be home,” Jasper says. He walks ahead of me, two steps the length between us.

  I scowl at the black shirt that covers his back. I hate this situation almost as much as I originally hated going to the Met. “Why wouldn’t Ren be home?”

  Jasper looks over his shoulder and simply lifts his mouth into a small, knowing smile. It only serves to irritate me. My strong feelings of dislike for him, which had dissipated to an almost simmer instead of a boiling intensity, start to heat up again. I’m about ready to leave him here in Maryland with his friends, but then I remind myself I’d have to explain to our families why one of the groomsmen couldn’t make the wedding.

  Jasper can tell me all he wants about how his friends will welcome him showing up on their doorstep at midnight, but I have a hard time believing it. Besides, I think it’s rude. Georgia and Melanie would do the same for me, but I’d still give them a warning that I’m showing up.

  Before I’m even up the last steps of stairs, Jasper is already knocking on the door of a third-floor apartment. Large golden numbers nailed to the mahogany door proclaim it to be apartment thirty-two.

  I come to a standstill just behind Jasper when I hear the soft click of a lock being undone. Then the door inches open, and I see curious eyes peering out at us through the crack. She must recognize Jasper immediately because only seconds later, the door is swinging wide open. A sound of high-pitched glee accompanies the creaking protests of the aging door, and an arm is thrown around Jasper’s shoulders, drawing him close.

  “No way!” the girl screeches. She drags him inside the apartment. Hesitant, unsure, and nervous, I step inside behind them. But the girl doesn’t even notice me. She laughs wildly, gripping Jasper’s upper arms. “You make the best surprises, Jasper!”

  I thought I’d seen Jasper’s grin, but the width of the one he wears now is unlike anything I’ve seen on him before. It catches me off guard—and only serves to make me more uncomfortable. Feelings of being out of place take root beside my anxiousness.

  “It was spontaneous,” Jasper says.

  You can say that again.

  The girl opens her mouth to reply, but it seems she finally notices me. Her eyes narrow on me standing behind Jasper. If her happy grin was wide before, now it rivals Jasper’s. “Who’s the pretty girl you brought with you?”

  Jasper twists around to look at me, almost like he forgot I was there. “This is June, April’s sister. June, meet Lila.”

  The full force of Lila’s bright smile hits me. She has cropped highlighted blue and pink hair and is small—probably not even five feet—and yet I feel like she’s taller than me. We’ve clearly interrupted something because she’s holding Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, a spoon speared into the center. With the way she holds herself, which is hip jutted, foot out and an overall air of confidence, I get the feeling she’s a strong-headed girl. Her huge, brown eyes cry innocence, but that’s nothing compared to her demanding, intimidating presence.

  And then I realize I’m staring.

  “Hi,” I say, and I hate that my voice comes out in a quiet squeak, especially since I’m hiding behind Jasper. I cross my arms across my chest and look around—anywhere but at Lila or the man who stands between us.

  When I finally do glance back to Lila, her grin has taken on an amused tilt. “You look so much like April!”

  I’m shocked, almost speechless. “You—I… what? You’ve met my sister?”

  She bursts into a loud laugh. “No way! Jasper’s grandma would never have let me or any one of us near her. I’ve seen pictures, though.”

  I send a desperate look to Jasper for some clarity. “April’s been here?”

  He bobs his head. “Carlisle came down last summer right after he proposed so that April could finally meet our grandmother.”

  “Oh,” I say. Lamely.

  “Come on.” Lila jumps into sudden motion. She grabs Jasper’s elbow with one hand and mine with another. “My parents will kill me if I wake them up now.”

  I almost snap at Jasper that I knew we should’ve warned someone we were coming, but I feel so out of place and unsure of myself that I keep my mouth shut. Instead, I bewilderingly follow Lila as she leads Jasper out of the apartment, closing the door behind me when she asks me to.

  She leads us down the hall, firm grips on our arms. “Ren’s parents are gone for the week,” she explains. “We can catch up in there.”

  “Ren’s home?”

  “Oh.” Moment of silence. “I have no idea.”

  She knocks on apartment thirty-four anyway. And then we wait. We wait for a while. I rub my arm where Lila had been grasping it. For her petite stature, she’s surprisingly strong.

  “Maybe he’s not home?” Jasper suggests.

  “I could’ve sworn I saw him earlier today.”

  I can’t keep quiet. The curiosity is killing me. “Why wouldn’t he be home?”

  Jasper doesn’t look at me, but Lila flashes me a bright, knowing smile. She still doesn’t say anything.

  This Ren must be one fascinating person.

  As it turns out, someone is home. After Lila knocks a second and even a third time, we finally hear muffled footfalls on the other side of the door.

  “Open up, Ren!” Lila shouts.

  I wince. Doesn’t she have any concern for anyone else sleeping in this apartment building?

  “Why?” The question sounds faint through the barrier of the door.

  “I’ve got a surprise.”

  There’s some muttered grumbling and groaning that has something to do with Lila and her antics. At least, I think so. It’s hard to hear the words through the door. Nonetheless, we hear the locks on the door turn. Unlike Lila, there’s no immediate reaction from the guy when he opens the door and leans against its frame. He rubs his eyes without entirely focusing on what’s in front of him. “Lila, do you understand the concept of sleep—”

  He cuts off. His hands have fallen to his sides, and his eyes grow wide. He slaps a hand against Jasper’s shoulder. “Jasper!”

  The boy in question presses his knuckles against the shoulder of the guy, who must be Ren. “Hey, man! What’s up?”

  “You wouldn’t believe.” Ren laughs. “Come on in! Lila, I forgive you for waking me up.”

  “You forgive me?” she scoffs, shoving him aside so she can enter his apartment. “Blame Jasper. He’s the one who showed up at midnight.”

  Ren only barks out another laugh, but it stops short when he spots me shuffling into his apartment behind everyone else. He whistles. “Jasper, man, you finally got yourself a girlfriend?”

  His eyes roll. “This is April’s sister, June. She’s a bridesmaid.”

  Ren’s mouth shapes an oh, and he sticks out his right hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Bridesmaid. The name’s Dhiren, but most people just call me Ren.”

  I take Ren’s tanned hand into my own. His grip is firm and sure, and he only shakes my hand once before letting go. His smile is similar to Lila’s, but somehow, I get the notion that he’s much more mischievous. It might have to do with his green eyes and the glint that shines through them. His black hair even makes them stand out more.

  Lila’s presence intimidates me, but Ren’s stance and easy smile are inviting. He’s probably popular with the girls from his school or work—whatever he does.

  “June and I are going on a road trip before getting to the wedding,” Jasper explains. “I thought I’d take the opportunity to see you guys on our way down.” />
  “You wouldn’t by any chance have your grandmother’s stereotypical cookies, would you?” Lila asks.

  “Lila, my grandma is already in Florida.”

  “I was just asking.” She rolls her eyes.

  Ren slaps Jasper on the back. “You came at the best time! We’ve got loads of events planned for this week.”

  And just like that, I’m forgotten. I’m standing to the side of their circle of reunion.

  “Yeah?” Jasper tilts his head to the side. “It’s not going to get me in trouble, is it?”

  “Do you care?” Ren asks.

  “This time, I do. I have to be in Jacksonville by Friday.”

  Lila glowers. “You should’ve come after the wedding.”

  “I can come back.”

  “Bring your grandma’s cookies!”

  I back against the apartment’s door, watching the three catch up. Their banter is easy and carefree, like the amount of time it’s been since they’ve seen each other has done nothing but strengthen their friendship. They stand in the middle of Ren’s apartment, but they’ve no care in the world where they are. They’re just excited that they’re together.

  I feel tired watching them. Not because the amount of energy they generate between them is exhausting, but because I feel out of place. I don’t belong here. On top of that, it’s been a long day, between bickering with Jasper and driving for hours.

  “June.” A hand seizes my shoulder, and I snap back to attention. Lila’s looking at me, brown eyes zeroed in on mine. “Ren’s parents aren’t home. They’re on a business trip, so you can sleep in their room. Jasper’s gonna crash in Ren’s.”

  “Don’t worry,” Ren pipes in. “My parents are never home. Their room is more like a guest room than their own bedroom.”

  I slide my gaze to Jasper, but his contented expression in no way helps me. I have no idea what to say. I don’t even know how to convey how uncomfortable I am to someone I barely know and like.

  “You look tired,” is all Jasper says. To his friends, he adds, “She’s the driver.”

  I swallow, uncross my arms because I know they must scream that I’m uncomfortable, and nod to Ren. “Thanks.”

  Ren lifts a finger towards the hallway. “The bedroom is the door on the right.”

  I mutter a quick goodnight to Jasper and his friends before making my escape. The level of my comfort drops dramatically further as I leave them to wrap up their reunion. I hear Lila say something about getting Thomas over in the morning. She adds something about going out for the day tomorrow. From the sound of it, right as I find the guest room and escape inside it, she’s already forming a plan.

  When Jasper offered to come down to Baltimore to see his friends, I readily said yes because we’d managed to spend a day more or less getting along. The way he described them made them sound spontaneous and hilarious, and unique. I just should’ve figured that I’d be uncomfortable around a set of friends that aren’t even my own.

  No, they’re a set of friends that belong to someone I’ve only ever had unkind words for.

  I should’ve known I’d be uncomfortable, but I don’t think I could’ve predicted the intense feelings of regret I feel for coming. What was I thinking? Jasper’s friends aren’t my friends. How am I supposed to connect with them?

  As soon as I’ve arrived, I can’t wait to get back on the road and out of Maryland.

  Twelve

  “Jasper is the compassionate one.”

  In the morning, I sit on an unfamiliar bed and stare down at my phone. The bold, white blocks tell me that it’s eight in the morning. I’ve slept at least seven hours, but I feel as if I haven’t gotten any. The walls are thin enough that I hear at least two voices drifting in from the hallway. I wonder if one of them is Jasper, but the tones are too low for me to discern any familiar sounds.

  I’m too anxious to leave the room and figure out for myself if Jasper is awake. At the very least, behind the wall of twisted knots below my chest, it’s amusing how I didn’t want to be anywhere near him only a few days ago when we left Boston.

  Despite having woken up so early today, I’m generally not a morning person. Yet, I woke up at dawn, and now I’m sitting on the bed and staring at my phone.

  I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve typed Melanie’s number in. All I have to do is press send, but I’m hesitant. Intending to give her some space, I’ve only called her twice since leaving Boston, and I’ve sent no text messages. She didn’t answer either call. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I hear her grumbling about how I haven’t tried harder to get in touch. Georgia would still suggest giving her space.

  “By the time you get back,” Georgia would say, “she’ll have forgotten the whole thing.”

  I know she probably won’t answer. I know that despite the fact she’d grumble about me not trying harder, she does need some space. And despite her need for space, I hear her breezy, careless voice saying, “You could’ve tried harder, you know.” I press dial.

  It rings. And continues to ring. It rings until Melanie’s voice message answers, and she tells me she’s not at the phone, though I know that’s a lie. I’ve been standing right next to her plenty of times to see her swipe to ignore the calls of people she wants to make feel guilty. I know the game. I know she saw the call.

  Despite knowing her game, I still feel guilty. It’s a horrible manipulation she plays and one I should’ve learned by now not to fall for. It’s enough for me to know that yes, I did say some mean things to her, but it gets to me that she always thinks she’s completely innocent when she’s not.

  My mother, even though she doesn’t understand our fights well, says it’s what friends do to each other. Georgia says I can live without Melanie’s friendship for a while. Honestly, I’m starting to lean towards Georgia’s argument.

  A knock on my door jolts me from my stupor. I turn my phone’s screen off and throw it across the bed, suddenly disgusted with myself for letting one of my closest friends get to me so much. “Yeah?”

  The door opens, the person behind it not asking for permission to come in. Apparently, my “yeah” was good enough. I recognize Lila immediately, her blonde, blue, and pink hair poking in.

  When she sees me sitting in bed, already dressed, she perks up. “Oh, you’re awake!”

  I wince at her loud voice. “Yeah.”

  She opens the door and leans against the frame, jutting out one hip and placing her hand on it. “Well, get out here then. Thomas is almost done making breakfast.”

  “Thomas?”

  “Thought Jasper told you about us. He’s the cook.”

  “The cook?” I repeat, dumbfounded.

  “Not a morning person, huh?” But Lila smiles at me, and it’s a smile that tells me she finds my parroting her words back at her amusing. “Thomas is the cook, Ren is the photographer, and I’m the intelligent one.”

  “Oh.” When Jasper talked to me about his friends yesterday, I didn’t get any impression that they were anything but scheming and crazy people. I imagined them lumped together, sharing between them one spontaneous personality.

  But of course, they’re their own three personal selves.

  “Yeah,” Lila nods. “You’re going to love Thomas’s pancakes.” In one instant, she goes from leaning against the door frame to pushing off it, gliding to my side at a speed that even I’m impressed by, and I’m one of the fastest runners on my soccer team. She tugs on my arm. “Get out of here and into the kitchen already!”

  Lila’s familiarity and easiness around me—someone she didn’t even know until eight hours ago and then only for ten minutes—makes me flustered. I don’t want to object and say I would rather seclude myself in an unfamiliar room all day. I almost do say it. But instead, I do as she says. I rise from the bed and start for the hallway, and then a thought occurs to me.

  Lila now behind me, I look over my shoulder. “If you’re the intelligent one and Ren’s the photographer, and Thomas is the cook, then w
ho’s Jasper?”

  Lila’s reaching over the bed to pick up my phone, which I realize I’ve almost forgotten. She straightens, phone in hand, and walks over to me. As she pushes the phone into my palm, I imagine she’ll say he’s the artist, obviously. She doesn’t, though. Instead, as I curl my fingers around my phone, her gleaming, mischievous gaze locks onto mine, and she says, “Jasper is the compassionate one.”

  ~.*.~

  “You must be the bridesmaid. June.”

  The guy standing at the stove doesn’t glance up when I walk out from the hallway, though somehow, he knows I’m the stranger and not Lila. I’m too tongue-tied to say anything—mostly because I can’t figure out why someone would want to be up and making breakfast so early in the morning, but also because Thomas looks so at home in an apartment I know isn’t. I’m also wondering where Ren’s parents are.

  “Thomas.” The guy finally looks up from the pan he’s had his attention on and reaches out a hand to me, even though I’m on the other side of the large room. Which isn’t saying much. The apartment, which, although has an open concept in which the kitchen and living room are one, is still on the smaller side, albeit it has all modern amenities. Thomas cooks on a stove that has to be almost new, and the wooden floors are shining and polished. Still, there’s not a lot of counter space, the living room is a bit cramped, and the table for eating is big enough for three—four if you squeeze in a chair.

  Thomas is still watching me, eyes lit, and hand outstretched. I don’t want to be more self-conscious than I already have been, which is that I’ve been staring at him for too long to be polite. Awkwardly, almost tripping over my feet, I stride over and pull his hand into my own, shaking once before letting go. “Nice to meet you.”

  Thomas raises his chin and returns his attention to the pancakes, flipping one over. He says, “Don’t call me Tom. I hate the nickname just so you’re warned. My full name Thomas represents me a lot better.

  He’s a bit on the short side, this Thomas-not-Tom, and his hair is bleached in the way Jasper’s is. The two even look similar, though I figure Jasper would have mentioned any relation.