Sweet Dandelion

by Micalea Smeltzer

  The halls begin to empty as most people reach their classes. Turning down the hall that leads to Lachlan’s office I do my best to force my worrisome thoughts away. For a moment, I want to be normal again. I want to talk about this book, and not about how I feel or my memories or how fucked up I am.

  The door is cracked when I reach his office and I push it open.

  “Dani.” His smile transforms his face and my stomach flip-flops.

  I have a crush on my school counselor. If that doesn’t say trouble I don’t know what does.

  “Hey,” I breathe, trying to mask my relief at being near him.

  Something about his presence calms my insides in a way nothing or no one else can. It doesn’t make sense and I can’t explain it, but I guess that’s how feelings work.

  “Did you start the book?” His eyes are lit up with excitement.

  “Actually, I finished it.” I dig into my backpack, placing the worn and well-loved copy on his desk.

  He picks it up and looks from it to me in surprise. “You finished it.”

  “Yep.” I plop onto the loveseat, my backpack at my feet.

  “What’d you think?” He sounds hesitant but hopeful.

  “It made me mad.”

  Laughter explodes out of him. “It makes you think, huh?”

  “He’s tortured and in the end he loves Big Brother! It was all for nothing! What was the purpose of it?”

  His long fingers wrap around the book and he picks it up, looking it over like he’s never seen it before. “It’s a message warning against the dangers of totalitarianism. I find it enlightening. So, you hated it then?”

  “I don’t know how I feel about it, I don’t love it but I’m not quite sure I hated it. I’ll never forget it, though.”

  He runs his finger along the cover reverently. “That’s what makes it my favorite. It’s the kind of story that turns in my mind long after I’ve finished it.”

  “How many times have you read it?”

  He looks down at the weathered pages. “I don’t know. Five, maybe six, times.”

  “Wow.” My eyes widen in surprise. “I’ve never read a book more than once.”

  “Would you like to read another?” He stands, walking over to the far right of his bookshelf unit. He puts 1984 away and waits for me to join him.

  “I don’t know.” I slip my hands into the back pockets of my jeans, rocking on my heels. “Is everything you have to recommend so depressing?”

  His lips turn down in thought, his eyes scanning his shelves. “Do you think you’d like a thriller? Something psychologically twisty?”

  I shrug, picking up a picture frame from his shelf. “Maybe. I’m not exactly a hearts and flowers kind of a girl so a mind-fuck sounds right up my alley.”

  His lips quirk into a smile.

  I study the picture inside the frame. It’s a younger Lachlan, maybe nineteen or so dressed for a game of golf, the club held in his hand. He stands beside a man that could be his twin if it weren’t for his more auburn hair compared to Lachlan’s jet black. But the facial structure, shape of the lips, and eye color are all the same.

  “Your dad?”

  He looks down at the image with a fond smile. “Yeah.” I put the frame back where I found it, scanning more of the knick-knacks there. “Dani?” Lachlan prompts me and I force my gaze from the shelves. “I have a book I think you’d like, but it’s at home. You can drop by and get it if you want?”

  I know he’s not inviting me over, but my body warms anyway, humming with some sort of electricity.

  “That’d be great.”

  His arm brushes mine as he moves, picking up a frame higher up and handing it to me. “My mom, sister, dad, and grandpa.” He points out each individual surrounding him at his college graduation. My heart pangs because I’ll never have a picture like this. His mom has raven black hair that hangs down in long waves and an olive complexion. His sister is a perfect mix between both parents. Her hair is dark, but not as dark as Lachlan’s, with hints of red.

  “Your mom and sister are beautiful. You’re close with your family?”

  “Very. I have a ton of cousins too that all feel like siblings.”

  “What are their names?” I point to his family in the picture.

  “My mom is Catriona, my sister is Isla, my dad is Niall, and my grandpa is Leith.”

  “Wow,” I hand the frame back to him, “that’s a lot of unique names.”

  “My Scottish roots run deep.”

  He stretches up to put the picture back on the top shelf, his shirt stretched taut over his muscular form. I bite down on my lip to keep from making some sort of noise.

  “Do you own a kilt?” I blurt.

  He straightens, lips twitching with laughter. “I do actually.”

  I thought picturing Lachlan in a kilt would help calm my racing heart but it’s having the complete opposite effect.

  Not cool, heart. Not fucking cool.

  “It’s the family tartan pattern and everything.” The way his eyes sparkle I’m not sure if he’s being serious or having fun with me.

  “Have you ever been to Scotland?”

  Only inches separate our figures. Neither of us has made any move to return to a seated position. I wonder if he notices the way our bodies seem to gravitate toward one another without any thought, at least on my part. Yes, I’m attracted to him, I think any sane female would be, but I wouldn’t purposely cross a line. My body, his too, doesn’t seem to know there is one.

  He shakes his head. “No, not yet. It’s on my bucket list.”

  “I’ve never given much thought to things I’d like to do before I die,” I murmur softly, finding looking at him suddenly difficult. I swallow stiffly. “I guess I should now, you know, after everything.” My heavy sigh echoes through the room, hanging there in weighted suspension.

  “Can you think of one thing you might want to do?”

  “Traveling would be nice, I guess. Mostly I want…”

  He turns, his body angling downward toward mine in an almost protective gesture. “You want?” I don’t know if he realizes it, but his voice is husky. It makes my center clench and ache in a way it never has before. I had a few brief relationships before the shooting, one that lasted nearly a year. So, it’s not like I’m totally inexperienced. But none of those guys ever made my body react like this. “Dani?” His tongue slides out the smallest bit, wetting his lips.

  I don’t want to admit what I have to say, because I don’t want him to think it’s about him, but he’s giving me no choice.

  “I want to fall in love.” His eyes darken in color, but I don’t miss the small step he takes away from me. “When I was lying on that floor, wet from my own blood, screams echoing everywhere, I knew I was going to die. The only thing I regretted in those brief moments before I lost consciousness was the fact that I was never going to know real, soul-crushing, forever love. I wasn’t going to walk down the aisle to the man of my dreams. I wasn’t going to hold my child in my arms. I wasn’t going to grow old with someone.” I have to pause and catch my breath, also allowing myself to take a moment to keep the tears at bay. “It was the simple, ordinary things I was going to miss out on that hurt the most. At the end of the day, those things might seem mundane or unnecessary to some, but to me it was all I wanted. So, I guess if I was going to put anything on my bucket list, falling in love would be at the top.”

  His stare deepens and I feel it all the way down to the tips of my toes.

  A shiver starts at the base of my spine, working its way up my body.

  “Are you cold?” He sounds concerned.

  I shake my head. “No, not cold.”

  The bell rings.

  I hate that Godforsaken bell. I want to stay here, in this little cocoon a bit longer.

  Lachlan steps around me, back to his desk. “Let me write down my apartment number.” He scrawls a couple numbers down and passes me the blue sticky note. “For the book.” He clears his throat. I feel
like he’s trying to remind me, or perhaps himself, that this isn’t a social call.

  “Thanks.”

  I take the note from him and grab my backpack.

  “I’ll see you after school,” I say, heading for the door.

  He doesn’t reply and I don’t look back, because something tells me I don’t want to see the expression on his face.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I pace the length of Sage’s condo. The blue post-it note is pressed into a crinkled ball in the palm of my right hand.

  1206.

  Lachlan is a floor above me in 1206. It’s silly for me to be freaking out over this. He’s going to give me a book. That’s it. Nothing more. But my heart doesn’t seem to realize that and keeps leaping every time I think of him.

  “This is ridiculous!”

  If anyone could see me right now I look like an insane person.

  I stomp to the door, closing it roughly behind me. The sound of it echoes down the hall.

  I’m starting to sweat and that’s not an attractive look at all.

  I push the button for the elevator and cross my arms over my chest. I rock back and forth unsteadily, trying to expunge the adrenaline from my body in some small way.

  It’s a book,” I remind myself. You’re picking up a book from him. That’s all.

  Stepping into the elevator I continue to give myself an internal pep talk.

  When the doors open I walk down the hall to Lachlan’s apartment, pausing outside to take a moment to center myself.

  Once I’m confident that I’m as okay as I’m going to get, I raise my fist and knock.

  I don’t have to wait long before the door opens and he stands on the other side looking way too hot to be the equivalent of a teacher. He wears a shirt with the sleeves cut off and loose gym shorts. His skin is still slick with sweat, his hair damp with it too.

  “Hey,” he grins, my stomach flipping, “come on in, I’ll grab the book.”

  He steps aside and waves me in when I keep standing there. The door closes and I stand there looking at what’s basically the twin of my brother’s place, only reversed with the kitchen and bedrooms on my left instead of right.

  My eyes flicker over him trying and failing to find anything unattractive about him. He picks up a bottle of water and takes a long swallow, his throat muscles constricting.

  Me being here is bound to be breaking some sort of school rule, but Lachlan doesn’t seem to have thought of that. Probably because to him I’m a kid. An eighteen-year-old kid who whines to him about her problems five days a week. He doesn’t have the thoughts that I’m having—like his bedroom is only a few feet away. He surely doesn’t wonder what my skin would feel like against his.

  He’s the only person that I’ve felt comfortable really speaking to about what happened and that’s formed some sort of connection that’s making me have those kinds of thoughts. I don’t even understand why out of everyone I’ve spoken to since the tragedy that it’s him I open up to. There’s some unexplainable gut feeling inside me when it comes to Lachlan. Maybe if I were older, more experienced, I would have words for it.

  “You don’t mind if I let Zeppelin out, do you? He’s in my room.”

  My heart ticks faster when he mentions his room.

  “I don’t mind.” I try to inconspicuously stuff the wadded up post-it into my back pocket, suddenly afraid I might drop it. I want to keep it.

  “Give me a sec.”

  He finishes slurping down all sixteen-point-nine ounces of water, wiping his mouth with the back of his tanned hand.

  His steps resonate softly down the hall, a plain gray rug softening his steps.

  Seconds later there’s a bark and Zeppelin races down the hall, crashing into me.

  I wrap my arms around him and hug the mammoth dog back.

  “Zep, man! Be careful with her!” Lachlan calls from his bedroom.

  “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” I scratch Zeppelin behind his ears. He gives me a kiss, covering me in doggy drool. I frown because it’s kind of gross, but the dog is too sweet to let it bother me for long.

  We never had a dog growing up. I always wanted one, but my mom said we didn’t have time, which I understood with her working and all my extra-curricular activities. But maybe Sage would let me get a dog?

  I stand up when I hear Lachlan’s feet padding down the hall. Zeppelin rubs his head against my leg, begging for more attention.

  “Here’s that book.”

  He offers the hardback to me and I take it, studying the cover—dark colors, eyes peeking through, very creepy vibes.

  “It’s not horror, right? I don’t like to be scared.”

  He chuckles, grabbing the back of one of the stools at his breakfast bar. “No. It’ll keep you guessing, but it’s not scary.”

  I arch a brow at him. “Pinky promise?”

  He chuckles. “Pinky promise.”

  He shakes his head, wrapping his pinky around mine when I offer it.

  Stepping away, I lift the book in the air, using it to point at him. “Thanks. I’ll uh … thanks.” Why the hell am I so awkward? I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. “I’m going to go now.”

  He chuckles, letting go of the chair to open the door for me. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Dani.”

  I back out the door facing him. I force myself to turn around and go to the elevator. Before I reach the end of the hall I glance over my shoulder.

  He’s still watching me, his eyes narrowed, his face troubled. When he catches me looking he schools his features and closes the door.

  “That smells amazing. I’m starving.” The door clicks closed behind Sage and I look up from the couch where I’m curled up with the book. It was slow to start, but now it has me guessing.

  “I totally forgot I ordered food.”

  When it arrived twenty minutes ago I went back to reading, too consumed by the story to even eat. Besides, I always try to wait for Sage.

  Laying the book on the coffee table, I shove the blanket off and stand.

  “You’re reading?” Sage asks, his normally deep tone spiking a little high in surprise.

  “Um, yeah.”

  “Where’d you get the book?” The question is muffled from a fry he’s pulled from one of the takeout boxes.

  I panic for a brief second. “A friend loaned it to me.”

  “That’s cool.” He rolls up his sleeves. “God, I’m fucking starving. I’m going to eat before I shower.”

  He pulls out plates and starts piling food on them. I ordered us each fries and a BLT. He passes one to me, already stuffing a bite of sandwich in his mouth.

  “Did you have lunch?”

  He shakes his head. “No, didn’t have time. There was a mishap and some computers stopped working. It was chaos.”

  “That sounds rough.”

  “It was.” He plops on the couch with a tired groan.

  I join him, pushing the book out of his reach in case he picks it up. I’m not sure if he’ll know Lachlan’s name if he opens it, but I don’t want to risk it. I’ll have to ask him why he writes his name in his books, because I don’t get it.

  “I’m sorry you have so many hours by yourself before I come home.”

  “S’okay.” I cover my mouth as I chew. “It gives me a chance to do my homework and relax.”

  Actually, I mostly sit around bored out of my mind. My homework is usually finished at school so when I get home there’s nothing to do but watch TV or sketch. But I don’t love drawing like Ansel does and I can only do it for a little while before I get frustrated with my pathetic lines that barely form a shape. Today, the book has helped occupy my time. I might have to give more books a chance.

  “That’s true.” Sage sounds relieved, and I’m glad I can alleviate the burden from his shoulders even if it’s a white lie. “This is really good. Where’d you order it from?”

  “It was some sandwich shop a couple miles away. I had Uber Eats deliver it.”

  “Hmm,”
he hums, most of his meal devoured while mine is barely touched.

  “I think I’m going to go eat in my room if that’s okay?” He looks over at me in surprise since I never ask to leave. “I kind of want to read.”

  “That’s fine, D.”

  I get up with my plate of food and the book. I pause at the edge of the hallway before I disappear completely from his sight. “Sage?” He looks up. “I love you.”

  He smiles, his hazel eyes softening with something like gratitude. It’s such a simple thing to tell someone you love them, but those three little words can mean so much.

  “I love you too, sis.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “You have strange taste in books.”

  I drop the heavy, five-hundred-plus page, book onto Lachlan’s desk. He jumps, not having heard me come in since he was so absorbed in something on the computer. I’m sure he has a ton to do with seniors gearing up for college applications to go out.

  “You didn’t like it?” He closes the browser and takes the book. He flips through the pages before closing it with a snap.

  “I loved it. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t strange. I mean, I know multiple personalities are a real thing and all but this was intense.”

  He leans back in his chair, his easy smile making my stomach flip-flop.

  “What’d you think of the end?”

  “I thought she should go to jail.” I forgo the couch and perch my butt on the end of his desk. He scoots back so he can see me better. “She knew what her personalities were doing, but she didn’t stop Jackie when she killed that elderly gentleman. She let her. Going to a psych ward and not facing prison felt like she got off too easy.”

  “But she couldn’t control her personalities when they were in possession,” he argues.

  “That’s true,” I oblige, giving in on that point. “But Jackie’s personality was still there, like Loretta and Mae. Jackie will come back. Shouldn’t she be punished?”

  “Isn’t she still punished though? She’s trapped in a psych ward for the rest of her existence, and Keeley, the real person and main personality, isn’t insane and isn’t technically a murder.”