“You sure?” I raise a brow.
She hesitates and rubs her palms on her jeans, grazing her hand over mine, and I instinctively tighten my grip on her. Her sharp intake of breath sets my heart racing.
“I got this,” she says.
“All right. Your loss.” Reluctantly, I get off her bike and climb onto the other one.
Isabelle scoots back and wiggles on the seat like she’s trying to get comfortable. She’s got a boyfriend. She’s got a boyfriend. She’s got a boyfriend… I focus on getting the game started. She beats me off the starting line, but I quickly and easily pass her. I’m in the zone, hyper focused and determined to win. But then there’s a tap on my rear wheel, and I spin out of control. Isabelle zooms past me.
I glance over, and she’s giggling like crazy.
“You’re such a cheater,” I say.
She laughs harder. A moment later, she crosses the finish line—in first place. She pumps her fists and lets out a victorious whoop. I shake my head, but I can’t stop smiling. Even if she did cheat to win, I don’t care. Seeing her like this—face flushed, eyes sparkling, hair a mess, and happy—is so much better than winning any game.
9
ISABELLE
GRAYSON’S STARING AT ME, AND all I can think about is how warm his body was against my back. How firm and gentle his hands were on my waist and hips. Everywhere he touched me itches with the memory. It’s crazy and scary all at the same time. It’s crazy because Cam and I just broke up last night—it’s too soon to even think about getting into a new relationship. And it’s scary because I’ve never felt such an intense connection to anyone before. Would God really put such a temptation in my life?
“So, what game would you like to cheat at next?” Grayson asks.
“I didn’t cheat.” I stick my tongue out, climb off the bike, and survey the other games. “How about that one?”
The game itself is shaped like a jeep and the object is to shoot killer robots that have taken over a local town. I’ve never so much as held a gun before, let alone shot one, but this is the only game that will put me and Grayson close together.
He gives me a knowing smirk, like he knows exactly why I chose that game. “You’re on.”
We sit on the small bench seat, our legs touching. He puts in tokens, and we pick up our plastic guns.
“Do you have any unfair advantages I need to know about?” I ask.
“Nope. Are you going to cheat again?”
“Maybe.”
He nudges my shoulder with his, and my insides swirl in a frenzy of emotion. “Give me a heads up this time so I can play some defense, okay?”
“In your dreams, Grayson.” I pull the trigger to start the game. Robots attack in droves, and we shoot at them. I’m pretty sure I miss more than I hit, but I don’t care. I’m having more fun than I’ve had in months. My cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing so much.
We play several more games. After we’ve spent the last token, Grayson holds up two fistfuls of tickets and gestures toward the prize counter. “Let’s go see what kind of useless junk we can buy.”
We approach the prize counter, laughing and elbowing each other, just as Vick emerges from the prize storage room.
“Hey, Vick!” My face is warm, and probably red, too, and I’m slightly out of breath.
“We’re winners!” Grayson sets the tickets on the counter with a flourish. "Show us what we have won, ticket master.”
“You’re such a dork.” I laugh.
“Yes, but I’m a dork who is going to buy you some fine gifts.” He waves his arm along the top of the glass case that holds candy, plastic trinkets, pencils, and erasers. “Get whatever you want.”
“You two look like you’re having fun,” Vick says, his gaze lingering on me.
My face flushes hot, then cold. I’m not sure if it’s the exhilaration of competition or embarrassment. But why should I be embarrassed? I’m positive Cam told Vick about our breakup, so I’m not doing anything wrong. But will Vick tell Cam I’m here with Grayson? Sure, Cam is the one who broke up with me, but if he thinks I’ve already moved on, it will hurt him, and I don’t want to do that.
“I’m glad. Fun looks good on you.” Vick tosses his head to the side, and the hair across his forehead flops back.
Tension eases from my body. “Thanks.”
“Okay, so what do you want?” he asks.
I peruse the gifts while Vick and Grayson make plans to hang out after school tomorrow. I wonder how Cam will react when he finds out his friend is hanging out with Grayson. For reasons I don’t understand, Cam doesn’t like Grayson. I reach the end of the prize case and grin.
“I want those,” I say, pointing to the bottom shelf.
Vick pulls two cheap-looking trophies from the case and hands them to me. They’re identical plastic, gold-colored cups on thick bases stamped with “#1 Player.”
“Anything else?” Vick asks.
“Yeah, do you have a marker back there?”
He gives me a funny look but retrieves a black, permanent marker from a drawer and hands it to me. I take one of the trophies and change the 1 to a 2 before handing it to Grayson. He studies it, and I press my lips together to stop from laughing.
“Funny,” he says drily, but there’s a mischievous spark in his eyes.
“You know what they say about second place, right?” Vick asks. “You’re the first loser.” He laughs and fist bumps Grayson.
I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun with Cam—maybe I never did. He’s definitely more serious than Grayson.
“Isabelle?” Dad’s voice cuts through the arcade. “It’s time to go.” He doesn’t wait for me to respond before he walks away. That’s my cue to meet him at the car in five minutes or less.
My good mood vanishes. When I got home from school and Dad said we were going to dinner together because he needed to talk to me, I thought maybe things were going to change at home. But Grayson and his dad showed up before my dad could talk to me, so I still have no idea what’s going on.
“Yeah, I should probably find my dad, too,” Grayson says. “See ya later, Vick.” He waves, and together, we walk out of the arcade.
He’s staying close to me, and I’m not complaining. I really don’t want to leave yet, but I have no choice. I take comfort knowing I’ll see Grayson in school tomorrow. And we’re friends on TTYN now, so I can chat with him tonight, too, if I want.
“I had fun,” I say.
“Me too,” he says.
We stop near the front door, neither of us making an effort to leave. I hold up my trophy. “Thanks for the prize.”
“You’re welcome.” He steps out of the way of a couple who are leaving, putting him much closer to me. “Thanks for cheating.”
“I didn’t cheat,” I say, but I can’t keep a straight face.
The door swings open again. A family with two little girls walks in.
“We should probably move out of the way.” Grayson chuckles.
“That’s probably a good idea.” I move back toward the dining room.
“Uh, Belle. Don’t you have to go?” He hooks his thumb toward the door.
“Oh. Yeah. Right.” I laugh nervously.
He tilts his head, his expression inquisitive. “You’re stalling.”
Clearly, I’m not good at subtlety. “Well, you’d be—” The words die on my lips. In the back, corner booth, I see Cam. He’s sitting beside Andrea, his arm around her shoulders. And she’s smiling up at him.
All the food I ate threatens to make a reappearance. My heart thunders in my ears, deafening me to all other sounds. Bile rises hot and thick in my throat. Cam and Andrea? This has to be a mistake. There’s no way my best friend would do this to me. Then again, she has been acting weird around me. Hannah’s question races through my mind: Are you sure he’s not seeing someone else? Dear God, please tell me I’m wrong. But I’m not. I know I’m not. The evidence is clear as day, staring me in the face.
“Belle?” Grayson’s voice is distant, as if he’s calling to me through a miles long tube.
Cam chooses that moment to look up, and our gazes collide. His eyes widen. A second later, Andrea looks up, too. Guilt colors her expression as she stares directly at me. Cam moves like he’s going to stand, and I’m frozen in place. I can’t face him.
“Belle. Hey. What’s wrong?”
I blink, and suddenly, Grayson is in front of me, blocking my view of Cam and Andrea. Grayson’s hands are on my shoulders, and he’s peering into my eyes with concern. I can’t speak, so I simply point. Grayson turns to see what I’m pointing at, and then he turns back to me.
His face is taut with anger, and the muscle in his jaw ticks. “Is he cheating on you?” he asks, each word deliberate.
“No,” I whisper. Not technically. At least, I don’t think. But the hurt is as deep and raw as if he is cheating. Tears pool in my eyes. I need to get out of here. “I’m sorry. I have to go.” I twist away from Grayson and rush outside to Dad’s car. I get in and slam the door. He’s on his phone and doesn’t bother to acknowledge me. “Can we go, please?”
Without a word, he sets his phone in the console and pulls out of the parking lot. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the tears to stay away until I’m home and alone in my room. I focus on breathing evenly, but it doesn’t help. All I can see is Cam with his arm around Andrea. How could he lie to me about this? And how could my best friend betray me in such a terrible way? Now I know why she’s been so weird.
Another of Hannah's questions pierces my memory—Are you sure there’s not someone waiting for him? My eyes snap open. Does she know? Was she trying to warn me? Betrayal, deep and sharp, slices through me.
“I gave your mother an ultimatum,” Dad says, breaking the silence.
“What?”
“She needs help, Isabelle. Professional help. I told her if she doesn’t clean up her act, I’m filing for divorce.”
His words land like a house that’s been whipped around and torn apart during a tornado. Divorce? I lean forward and rub my temples, trying to process his words. But they don’t make sense. Nothing does.
“You’re not going to help her?” I ask, my voice weak and barely audible.
“I’ve tried. I’ve talked to her until I’m blue in the face. I’ve suggested counseling and rehab, and she refuses all of it.” He sighs. “I just can’t do it anymore.”
Numbness settles over me. I can’t think or speak or feel. And I don’t want to. How can my father just turn his back on my mother, on the woman he promised to love forever, for better or worse? God, please help him see how wrong this is.
“I wanted you to hear it from me,” he continues. “And I want you to know that no matter what happens, I’ll always love you. Nothing will ever change that, okay?”
I nod like I’m one of those bobblehead dolls, unable to control my movements. I wait for him to say more, to say he’ll take me with him, that he’ll fight Mom for custody. But his silence says more than his words ever can.
I battle tears that refuse to stay hidden. For Cam. For Andrea. For my parents. For my brother—if he were still here, none of this would be happening. His death tore my family apart. It's still tearing my family apart. And I’m an utter failure at trying to hold everything together.
Dad pulls into the driveway but doesn’t shut off the car. “I have a big presentation at work tomorrow, so I need to head back to the office for a couple more hours.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Thanks for dinner, Dad, and for ruining my life? Yeah, that won’t go well for me. Nothing I can say will change his mind, so I get out of the car without a word. He waits until I’m inside before leaving.
The house is dark and silent. I slide down the door, tuck my knees to my chest, and let the tears come.
10
GRAYSON
AT SCHOOL THE FOLLOWING DAY, I’m anxious to find Isabelle. She ran out of Parker’s so fast last night, and then she wouldn’t answer any of my messages. She said Cam wasn’t cheating on her, but he was there with another girl, and she had that look on her face. The one of stark realization and betrayal. I know that look too well—my father wore it for months after my mother cheated on him.
Fresh worry burrows inside of me, and I practically run through the hall. When I get closer to Isabelle’s locker, I slow down. She's standing in front of Cam, shoulders stiff and back ramrod straight. I can only imagine how tense her expression must be. Cam's face is red, and he’s gesturing wildly with his hands. I approach cautiously, not wanting to interrupt but desperate to know what’s going on. To help Isabelle if I can.
“There’s nothing to explain.” Isabelle’s voice is even and controlled. “I know what I saw, Cam.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“It doesn’t matter what I think anymore. You broke up with me, remember?”
My steps falter. Cam broke up with Isabelle? When? He’s dumber than I thought, but her interactions with me last night suddenly make a lot more sense. No wonder she didn’t push me away or tell me to get my hands off her. If I had known this last night… it probably wouldn’t have mattered. Making a move on her at a cheesy pizza joint while both our fathers were close by was stupid.
But now all bets are off. She’s fair game.
“That’s the best part of breaking up. Neither of us has to care anymore,” she continues. “And really, it’s God you need to explain yourself to. Not me.”
Cam says something I can’t hear and storms off. Isabelle’s shoulders relax, and then she rests her forehead on her locker.
“Everything all right?” I ask.
She gasps with surprise and jerks upright. “You scared me.”
“Sorry.” I shove my hands into my pockets. “I overheard you and Cam.”
Groaning, she crosses her arms. “Well, now you know, I guess.” Her eyes are bloodshot, as if she spent all night crying.
The idea of her crying over someone like Cam makes my blood boil. She’s way too good for him. I hope she sees that. “Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Okay. When you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
“What makes you think I’m going to change my mind?”
My lips twitch with the desire to smile. I shrug. “I don’t know. Call it a guy’s intuition.”
“If you say so.”
I sigh, hating how sad and defeated she is right now. Where is the funny, smart-mouthed girl who can’t resist giving me a hard time?
“I got you something.” I pull my bag around to the front of my body and dig through it. “But I’m not sure I should give it to you.”
“Uh… okay?” Confusion blankets her face.
“Well, I wasn’t really thinking when I made it, and it’s probably really insensitive.”
“Just give it to me,” she says with exasperation.
“If you say so.” I hand her a trophy similar to the ones we got last night. Except this one has been altered—I taped a piece of paper across the front, replacing “#1 Player” with the words: #1 Cheater.
I hold my breath, praying she doesn’t take this joke the wrong way. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut.
She stares at it, and then, slowly, the corners of her mouth lift into a genuine smile. “I didn’t cheat. It’s not my fault you suck at arcade games.”
Relief washes over me. “I demand a do-over.” I slice a look at her to gauge her reaction. It’s too soon to ask her out on a date. I hope she doesn’t take it that way. If I screw up now, I might never get a second chance. Together, we head toward our Spanish class. Isabelle is quiet, and I want to smack myself for being so dumb.
“When?” she asks.
“What?” I open the door to our class and motion for her to go first.
“When do you want a do-over?” She takes her seat, and I sit next to her.
Wow. I fully expected her to laugh it off and not answer me—or worse, tell me no—but now sh
e’s asking me when? I have no idea what to say. “Tonight?”
“Sorry. I’m busy tonight. And so are you, remember?” She lifts her eyebrows, waiting for me to say something.
I’m busy tonight? Doing what? I search my mind for what I should know… “Oh, right. I’m hanging out with Vick. Okay, how about tomorrow?”
“I’m busy tomorrow, too.” She shrugs. “Sorry.” The smirk on her face tells me she’s not really sorry.
“Ah, I see. Last night was beginner’s luck, and you’re afraid if I get a do-over, I’ll beat you, so you’re stalling.”
“Wrong.”
“Prove it.” I twist in my chair to face her. “This weekend. You and me and Parker’s arcade.” My heart thunders as I wait for her to answer. Even though I know it’s not a date, my nerves are frazzled. She’s single now, which means anything is possible.
“I promise I’m not stalling, but I really am busy all weekend.” She lowers her gaze to her hands. “Next week?” She looks up, hopeful.
Disappointment wraps around me. At least she didn’t give me a flat-out no. Still, waiting almost a full week to hang out? That sucks. But what choice do I have? “Next week works for me.”
She glances in my direction and grins. “I hope you’re ready to lose again.”
The bell rings, cutting off my reply. Señorita Guzmán starts class and informs us that we’ll be learning the dance for our presentations. Groans ripple through the room, but I couldn’t be happier. As a class, we head to the gym, where an old CD player has been set up on a small table in the corner.
After fifteen minutes of instruction and demonstration, Señorita Guzmán says, “Ahora tu intenta.” Now you try.
I step up to Isabelle and hold my arms in the proper frame position. “Ready?”
“Ah-ah.” Señorita Guzmán tsks. “Español.”
Isabelle hesitates a moment before placing her hand in mine. When Señorita Guzmán walks away, Isabelle whispers, “I can’t believe we have to do this.”
“Is the thought of dancing with me that repulsive?” I place my other hand on her waist, and she puts hers on my shoulder. She’s close enough that I can count the freckles on her face.
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