Sweet Dandelion

by Micalea Smeltzer

  He scrubs a hand over his stubble. Normally he’s freshly shaved since his job requires it, but since he has a few days off he’s letting it grow in.

  “It was nice for his family to invite us. It would’ve been rude to decline.” He exhales a weighted breath. “Does he know?”

  “Know what?” I blink at him, confused.

  “About…” He waves his hand at me wildly.

  I know what he’s asking, but I can’t help it when I say, “Does he know magic?” I mimic his hand gesture.

  “Dandelion,” he warns and I laugh, slipping off the stool.

  “Yes, Sage, he knows about what happened.”

  He nods, hands still on his hips. “I’m surprised you told him.”

  “Me too.” There’s no sense in denying it. “Are you ready, then?”

  “Yeah.” He grabs his coat off the rack, slipping it on.

  I begin my process of bundling up in a million layers.

  We head down to the garage, and Sage immediately starts the car, letting it heat up. I bring up my texts from Ansel, finding the one with the address to his house.

  Twenty minutes later we pull up outside a stone and brick monstrosity of a house. It’s massive, with a circular driveway and what I’m sure is a sprawling bright green lawn in the summer.

  Sage parks the car, letting out a low whistle. “Is his father related to the President of France? Do they have a president? Prime Minister?” he rambles, his nose crinkled in thought.

  “I think they have both.” I undo my seatbelt, stepping out.

  My breath fogs the air as we walk to the front door.

  “We should’ve brought a dish or something,” Sage grumbles under his breath.

  I give him an incredulous look. “We can’t cook.”

  He laughs. “Right. Nobody would want anything we brought anyway. Could’ve bought a pie, though.”

  “Too late now.” I push the doorbell.

  We don’t have to wait long before the door opens and a woman who has to be Ansel’s mom opens it. “Oh, you must be Sage and Dani. Ansel speaks so highly of you.” She smiles at me.

  I stare at her in awe. She’s beautiful, with dark brown hair blown out in loose voluminous curls, fair skin and amber eyes, her pouted lips are a glossy pink color, and she’s dressed in a fitted white dress I’d be terrified of staining.

  Sage and I step into the massive foyer. There’s a grand staircase and to our left is a formal living room, to the right is the dining room with an already set table and chandelier glowing above it.

  “Let me take your coats.”

  I give her a skeptical look, because surely she doesn’t want my dirty coat to ruin her dress. But she waves us on, her nails painted a soft pink.

  I wonder what the color is called. I think I’d name it In the Pink of Time.

  She takes our coats, hanging them in a hall closet.

  “Oh,” she claps her hands suddenly and I jump from the noise, “I’m Eliza. Elizabeth—but I prefer Eliza.”

  She looks like an Eliza.

  “It’s really nice to meet you.”

  I elbow Sage when he says nothing, too busy staring at the beautiful home.

  He lowers his eyes from the vaulted ceiling to her. “Yes, thank you so much for having us, Eliza. I appreciate it.”

  “I’m glad you could come. Come on, everyone’s in the den.”

  She motions for us to follow her.

  She takes us downstairs to a finished basement where a group of people are gathered around a theater type screen watching a football game.

  “Meadows.” Ansel stands when he spots me, his eyes immediately going to my brother. “And, uh, Sage.” He walks around the people, careful not to trip over any legs. “Glad you guys could come.”

  “I’ll be finishing things up,” Eliza says and heads back up the stairs.

  I look around at all the people, strangers except for Mrs. Kline. It’s funny how seeing her outside of school feels odd and uncomfortable, but it’s never felt that way with Lachlan.

  “Thanks for inviting us,” I say, elbowing Sage again, but this time for a completely different reason.

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  Ansel introduces us to his family, including his father Gaspard.

  Once all the introductions are made, Ansel shoves his hands into the pockets of his brown dress pants. “I wanted to give you a tour.” Ansel addresses me and Sage harrumphs, rolling his eyes.

  “Sage,” I bite out, since he promised he’d be on his best behavior.

  “If it’s a problem…” Ansel trails off.

  Sage narrows his eyes on my friend. “A tour, only a tour, and no fucking bedrooms. I will squash your tiny pea-sized teenage boy nuts if you think about even touching my sister.”

  Ansel gulps.

  “It’s Thanksgiving, Sage,” I groan, my cheeks coloring at his statement.

  Sage sighs. “Go, but if you’re gone longer than twenty minutes I’ll hunt your ass down.”

  “Oh my God.” I grab Ansel’s hand, to get away from Sage, but when my brother’s eyes narrow dangerously I quickly release my hold.

  Before Sage can protest Ansel and I head upstairs. He gives me a quick tour of the middle level, then leads me to the second story. “Your brother said no bedrooms, but…” He trails off with a shrug, swinging a door open.

  His room is exactly what I’d expect for Ansel. Canvases litter the space, sketches taped to the walls, and art supplies everywhere. His bed is low to the floor with a long black headboard. The two windows, with a dresser in-between, look out onto the front yard. The hardwood floor is covered in a large white rug that’s speckled with paint.

  I spin in a circle with a smile on my face. “I love it. It’s very you.”

  “It’s kind of simple.” He rubs the back of his head.

  I stop in front of him. “It’s perfect.”

  He gives me a crooked grin. Stepping forward until only a foot of space separates us. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you before, but you look beautiful.”

  I look down at my dress. It’s a chestnut color with little blue and white flowers, buttons going down the front, and cinched at the waist. It’s a fairly simple dress, but I appreciate the compliment nonetheless.

  “Thanks.” I smile at him, startling when he closes the short distance between us. He gently places one hand on my hip, his eyes hesitant.

  My heartbeat skyrockets.

  His lips thin. “Dani?”

  Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.

  All I can hear is my heartbeat in my ears.

  “W-What?”

  His eyes flick to my mouth.

  “I really want to kiss you,” he whispers, his eyes deepening in color. His hand comes up to cup my cheek, the tips of his fingers tangle in my hair.

  “Ansel…” I lower my head, shaking it. My hand presses against his stomach, pushing him lightly away.

  He exhales a sigh and his hand falls from my face as he steps back. His eyes are sad, but he forces a smile. “It’s okay, Meadows.”

  I bite my lip, fighting tears. I like Ansel, as my friend, but I don’t see him in a romantic way. Not when … not when my thoughts are consumed with someone else.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “I’m a big boy, Meadows. Yeah, I like you. Really like you. But,” he shrugs, toeing the floor with the tip of his dress shoe, “you don’t see me that way. It’s okay, but I had to try.”

  We stare at each other and I can’t think of anything else to say. I don’t understand why I feel like crying, it’s not like he rejected me, but I think there’s a part of me that wishes I did like him back. It’d make things so much easier.

  “Dandelion Meadows! Where are you?”

  I exhale the breath I was holding. “We better get downstairs.”

  “Yeah,” Ansel agrees, his eyes sad.

  It kills me hurting his feelings, but I won’t lead him on.

  He takes me down a back staircase so we’re able to
appear as if we’ve been downstairs the whole time.

  Sage’s eyes narrow when he spots us.

  “Where have you been?”

  “Getting the tour, remember?” I try to keep the sarcastic bite from my words but I’m not entirely certain I succeed.

  “Dinner’s almost ready,” he replies, looking between Ansel and me.

  Finally, he shakes his head and turns, walking away.

  Ansel and I pause in the hallway. I feel like something needs to be said, but I don’t know what. I’m at a loss for words.

  “Ansel…”

  “Don’t, Meadows. It’s okay.”

  His mouth is saying one thing, but his eyes are saying another.

  I don’t feel like arguing with him on the matter, so I nod.

  We join the others.

  He laughs, but his eyes don’t.

  He smiles, but his eyes don’t.

  And I can’t help feeling like I broke my best friend’s heart.

  It’s not like I asked him to like me in that way, but I still never want to hurt him.

  And maybe, if it weren’t for Lachlan I could like him back.

  But there is Lachlan. Perhaps not a Lachlan and Dani, but still, I have my feelings like Ansel has his.

  When Ansel’s eyes meet mine across the table, I can’t help wondering what he’d think if he knew I’d kissed our guidance counselor, that my feelings far surpassed those of innocent.

  The food I’ve eaten suddenly sits leaden in my stomach.

  I’m not so hungry anymore.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  December invades with blistering cold.

  Slushy snow plagues the streets, piling up into nasty gray mountains.

  I climb onto the school bus, shivering inside my coat despite my layers.

  Locating an empty seat in the back, I sit down, putting my earphones in.

  Say Love by James TW plays in my ears as the bus pulls away from the curb. It’s only been a week and a half since Thanksgiving, but things are still awkward between Ansel and me. In his defense, I’ve been far more skittish about the whole thing than he has. I know it’s largely in part to my guilt over my feelings for Lachlan.

  The bus arrives and I get off, taking a moment to pause and tilt my head up to the sky. It’s a grayish color, a few flurries beginning to fall. They’re calling for a snowstorm to start this evening. I doubt it’ll be as bad as they’re claiming, it never is.

  Inhaling a cold lungful of air, I head inside straight to the art room.

  Pulling out my sketchpad, I idly work on my latest personal drawing. It’s an outline of Sage. Troubled eyes, thick brows, worried lines. Because it’s mostly eyes someone else might not recognize it as my brother, but I do.

  Students filter in, and it is no surprise Ansel is the last.

  He takes his seat beside me.

  “Avoiding me, Meadows?” He arches a brow, his tone light but eyes sad.

  “No,” I hedge, closing my sketchpad and putting it away so I can work on our latest class assignment—a watercolor landscape.

  He makes a noise that’s somewhere between an indignant scoff and a cough. “Don’t lie to me. We’re friends. I know you’re … fuck, I know I messed things up, but please talk to me. I would never forgive myself if I ruined our friendship.”

  I ignore his comment for the moment, getting up to retrieve my canvas from the rack. He follows, grabbing his own, and we return to the table.

  “I don’t know what to say.” It’s a shitty response, but it’s all I’ve got.

  He blows out a breath, stirring his shaggy hair. “Can we at least talk about this? If we don’t, it’s always going to be awkward.”

  I bite my lip. I know he’s right, but my stomach churns at the thought.

  “Fine,” I agree reluctantly.

  “Let me drive you home.” I open my mouth to protest, so he quickly adds, “I know Sage told you I couldn’t bring you home anymore, but he’s not going to know. We’ll stop at Watchtower and talk—neutral ground.”

  I flick my eyes up at him, nodding. “Okay.”

  He smiles back. “Thank you.”

  Don’t thank me. Not when one day you might hate me if you ever learn who really has my heart.

  I pull out the latest book I borrowed from Lachlan and pass it to him behind his desk. He’s wearing his glasses again and pushes them up his nose before taking the book. His long fingers wrap around the hardback before he turns around and puts it on the shelf.

  I’ve yet to tell him I got a library card, not when I would much rather borrow books from him. It’s silly, I know, but I enjoy sharing his love of books. Watching him light up talking about his favorite reads is some of my favorite moments shared with him.

  He doesn’t ask if I want to borrow another. Instead, he automatically grabs another and passes it to me.

  I don’t look at the title, or even the cover, before I put it in my backpack. At this point I trust his choices.

  “How’s your day going?” he asks, shuffling some papers on his desk.

  “Okay, I guess.” I shrug, putting my backpack on the floor near my feet.

  He has the blinds rolled up, the ground outside dusted with fresh snow. Flurries fall from the sky, twisting and swirling.

  “They’re saying it’s going to be a blizzard.”

  My head slowly swivels back his way. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  Snow might be a fairly regular occurrence here, but a blizzard, not so much.

  “I don’t know, the sky is getting darker.”

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed, Sherlock.”

  His eyes widen at my snappy tone. “Something’s wrong.”

  A statement, not a question, because Lachlan sees all and knows all.

  I never told him about Ansel wanting to kiss me on Thanksgiving. I haven’t told him about how it’s strained my relationship with my only true friend. Don’t get me wrong, I like Sasha, but she doesn’t understand me the way Ansel does.

  “Ansel wants to talk to me after school.” I tap my foot against the ground, the carpet muffling the sound.

  “Oh?” He leans back in his chair, crossing his fingers together as they lie on his chest.

  There’s no point in trying to keep it a secret anymore. “He asked to kiss me, but I said no, that I don’t like him in that way. He’s … he’s been fairly normal since, but I don’t know how to be, because I feel terrible.”

  “Why? You shouldn’t feel bad—if you don’t see him in that way you can’t help it.”

  I hesitantly raise my eyes to meet his baby blues. “Yeah, but how would he feel if he knew what’s holding me back?”

  Lachlan’s lips twist and he swallows thickly. “What’s holding you back?”

  His eyes tell me he knows.

  His expression, too.

  “You.”

  His body softly shudders, it’s barely noticeable, but I’m watching him closely so I don’t miss the tremor.

  He leans forward, hands clasped on the table. He hasn’t moved around in front of it today. It’s probably good he hasn’t.

  “Dani … this … we…” He exhales a weighted breath looking pained. “Nothing can happen with us.”

  Lachlan has never verbally said he returns my feelings, but he’s never denied anything either. He could tell me I’m crazy, that he’s over a decade older than me, but he does none of that because he feels it too. To deny it would be a crime.

  “I know,” I whisper, tugging on my sleeves, “but when feelings exist they can’t be turned off with a switch. I can’t force myself to like him the way he wants me to.”

  Lachlan stares at me, his eyes troubled. When he speaks again, it’s with two simple words.

  “I’m sorry.”

  The bell above Watchtower Coffee & Comics chimes merrily, signaling our arrival. The line is longer than normal, probably due to the impending storm and the arctic cold that cuts through all bundled layers.

  Ansel and I get in li
ne, waiting our turn.

  Instead of my usual Boba tea, I get a latte. Once we both have our orders we take a seat at one of the tables across from each other.

  I pick the label adhered to the side of my cup, waiting for him to speak first.

  “Look,” he finally speaks, leaning forward with his fingers wrapped around his coffee, “I fucked up and made things awkward. You’re … fuck, Meadows, you’ve become my best friend. I know you might not believe that, but you have. I don’t want to screw things up and ruin our friendship because of a silly crush.”

  “Silly?” My tone is amused, my lips twitching with the threat of a smile.

  He cracks a smile of his own, running his fingers through his unkempt hair. “Okay, maybe not silly, but still—your friendship means more to me. I’m a big boy, Meadows. I can handle rejection. You don’t like me in that way, it’s cool. I respect your boundaries.”

  I loosen my fingers from around my cup. “Thank you. I … I’m sorry I made things awkward, but…” I bite my lip, not quite having the words. “I didn’t want to do anything you might take as me leading you on.”

  He shakes his head. “Meadows, you said no. I understand what that word means and I would never disrespect you by thinking some innocent thing you do or say might mean more and trying to take advantage.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper, tucking my hands under the table. “I wasn’t looking to make friends here, but then I met you and you’re my best friend. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” I duck my head, voice soft.

  He reaches across the table, tapping his index finger beneath my chin so I’ll lift my head. “You’re my best friend, that’s all that matters.”

  He smiles at me and I smile back. Something shifts, and the axis of the world feels righted once more.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Standing in front of the large windows in the living room of the condo I look out at the snow falling in a thick white curtain. I can’t even see the building across the street. Everything is blinded by whiteness.

  The news plays in the background, talking about the expected accumulation and the threat of power outages.

  I bite my lip with worry since Sage isn’t home yet.