by Alexa Riley
“That’s what I’m saying.”
I smile and he reaches out and pulls on the tip of my long ponytail that's hanging over my shoulder.
“I know you would,” I tell him.
I might have been embarrassed to tell him about it or scared that things could change between us, but if I know one thing it’s that Drake will always be there for me. He always is and I can't see that ever changing. At least I hope it never does.
Chapter Four
Drake
Fifteen years old
“Shit.”
“You’re not supposed to curse.” Ali tsks and I roll my eyes.
“I think this is bullshit.”
“Just so you know, I’m keeping up with how much you owe the swear jar.” She beams at me and I want to be mad but she looks so cute when she makes that face.
“Look, I need like a five-second pass so I can get it all out.” I try again to put the car into first gear and the engine stalls out. “Shit.”
“I think you need like a five-hour pass.”
“Just help me, okay?” I try to keep the irritation out of my voice when I talk to her because I know it’s not her fault. I’m just aggravated I can’t get it.
“It’s all about timing. You’ve got to do it at the right moment.”
I glance over at her out of the corner of my eye and see her bare thighs. I look away quickly and think about why we’re here and try to focus.
Our parents have been teaching us how to drive and they both insisted we learn how to drive a stick shift. They even went out and bought an old truck to drive on the back of our land so we could practice. Of course, Ali got it right away like a rock star, but something about the clutch and stick don’t work with my brain.
“Put your left foot on the clutch and the right on the brake. Crank it up and shift into first.”
She puts her hand over mine and helps me find the gear. I don’t think about how soft it is against my skin. Not even for a second.
“Now, take your foot off the brake and slowly hit the gas while you let the clutch out.”
I’m listening to the soothing sound of her voice as I follow her instructions, but a loud chime breaks my concentration and the truck stalls.
“Shit.”
She looks over at me and then down to her phone that’s sitting in her lap.
“Who is it?” I ask, trying to look at the screen.
She tucks it under her tanned thigh and I look away.
“Nobody.” I turn to her and raise an eyebrow. She sighs and looks away. “It’s nothing.”
“You want to keep secrets from me, that’s fine,” I say and try to shift again.
“I said it’s nothing. Why do you just assume I’m keeping something from you?”
The sound of gears grinding makes her pull a face as I shift out of first.
“Why do you keep hiding your phone from me every time you get a text message?” I counter.
“And you’re so innocent? I saw Jenna’s Snapchat message to you—the one she sent to me by ‘accident.’” Ali holds up her fingers in air quotes and I stall the truck out again.
“Shit.” I hit the steering wheel and look over at Ali, who’s staring out the window. “You know she only did that to piss you off. I’ve said exactly three words to Jenna in my life and it was to tell her to leave you alone.”
“That’s not what she made it sound like.” Ali crosses her arms over her chest and I glance down at my old camp shirt that’s threadbare and falling off of one of her shoulders.
“Who are you going to believe?” She shrugs, not saying a word, and I can see she’s getting in one of her moods.
It’s not like it used to be when we were kids and things were easy between us. She’s still my best friend but I feel like there’s this wall dividing us and it’s growing bigger all the time. I used to think that nothing could come between us, but it’s like some new obstacle pops up every day.
“I guess when you tell me about Isaac blowing up your phone I’ll know that you’re not hiding anything.”
“Drake—” she says softly, but I’m tired of being nice.
“It’s not my business, Ali. Do whatever the hell you want.” I stomp on the clutch, put it into gear and drive down the grass field toward the house.
“He asked me about helping him with his biology homework, that’s all.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “I’m sure he did.” I shake my head and change gears without stalling and I guess it’s the anger that’s helping me figure this damn truck out.
“He was being nice to me. Which is more than I can say for some people.”
“Do you ever think the guys stay away from you because I’m your brother?” And maybe because I’ve threatened them, but I don’t say that to her.
“I’m sure that’s exactly why no one asks me out.”
“You’re too young to date,” is my quick response and I regret it because I sound just like Dad.
“Okay, Dad,” she says in an obnoxious voice and it pisses me off.
I pull up to the back of the house and knock the truck into park before I shut it off. “I don’t need your help with this anymore.”
“You owe the swear jar thirty-two dollars.”
I get out of the truck and slam the door, but before I go inside I lean into the open window. “Stay away from Isaac.”
She won’t look at me, and part of me is grateful. I don’t want to see the hurt in her eyes so I walk away. Why can’t we go back to the time when we stayed up all night playing video games and rode bikes for hours? I think back to that awesome summer when we got the slip-n-slide and how I broke two fingers because of the ramp she made me build. Or when Mom and Dad took us to New York for Christmas and we got to watch the tree light up in Rockefeller Center and drank hot chocolate until we were sick. Why can’t we go back to the way things were?
Because we aren’t kids anymore.
Chapter Five
Ali
Seventeen years old
“Everything looks terrible,” I groan as I stand in front of the three-sided mirror.
Whoever came up with the idea of this kind of mirror should be slapped. I don’t know if it’s me or the dress but I look like a hot mess. It probably doesn't help this is the twelfth dress I’ve tried on. I didn't know this was going to be a mini workout and I was not properly trained for this.
“Stand up straight.” My mom shakes her head at me as she pulls on my shoulder to make me straighten up. “Of course it looks bad when you slouch.”
“My boobs are going to fall out.” I tug the dress up so a nipple doesn’t try and escape. Nothing is fitting right because of them and they’re out of control.
“I have no idea where you got those,” Mom teases me with a small laugh.
They came in last summer out of nowhere. Mom is small all over, but we’re both on the shorter side. She’s slim but I’ve somehow exploded with curves. I feel like I’m too short for my body type and it makes me awkward. Mom keeps saying I’ll get used to it but I swear it's getting worse. It’s not just my appearance but I swear my insides are messed up too. I’m going to blame it on my period.
Lindsey thinks I’m nuts and that girls would kill for boobs like mine. Maybe they would, but finding clothes that fit sucks. I’m too top heavy and everything lies wrong. I just want to wear my jeans and a shirt to this dance. Hell, I’d settle for my school uniform. When I’m home I’m good in sweats because I want to be comfortable.
“Honey. We just need to get bigger sizes and we’ll have them taken in where it’s needed.” Mom’s eyes soften and when I glance in the mirror at myself I look like I’m about to cry. Maybe I am. Who knows, because my emotions are all over the place. “This is supposed to be fun,” she reminds me, and I let out a long sigh. She’s right, this was supposed to be fun and I’m ruining it with my attitude.
“I don’t even have a date,” I remind her.
I didn’t have plans to go to Homecoming and n
o one asked me, but Dad’s the reason we’re here. I’m always a sucker for him, and when he pulled me aside last week and told me Mom was so excited about Homecoming but worried I hadn’t brought it up, I knew what he was after.
I love my dad and he’s been so good to both of us but what I love most about him is how much he loves my mom. He went out of his way to ask me to do the Homecoming thing for her and I folded in less than half a second. He was right, though; I should be more excited about it. I don’t want to look back and regret not going to Homecoming because I had some chip on my shoulder about not belonging there or that Homecoming wasn’t my scene. My mom taught me that I need to put my best foot forward.
“Drake doesn't have a date either,” Mom says, waving her hand dismissively at my excuse. “I don't think people have dates for Homecoming anymore. Everyone just goes as a group from what I’ve heard.” She nods her head in agreement with herself and it’s kind of adorable.
She’s half right; most people are going stag or in groups. The boys and girls at school jump from dating one person to another and I can't keep up with them all. I’ve taken one too many biology classes and got it in my head that making out with even one person from my school would be like making out with all of them. God knows the kind of germs I’d get so I keep my mouth to myself.
As for Drake, I don’t get in his business with what or who he’s doing because it’s better that way. At school I stay out of his way and he stays out of mine. We’ve become like oil and water since high school. If we keep clear of each other we don’t have a chance to fight, which is something our parents hate. That’s the one thing we have in common—we don’t like upsetting either one of them.
It’s pretty easy to keep our distance. Our school is big and we hang in different crowds. He’s always with the jocks while I go between my swim team and what’s referred to as the Gifts, the nickname for the Gifted and Talented. We’re the group that’s usually in the library and takes all the AP classes we can. I’ve been with them more lately since swim is over for the season and I’m not trying to get on a college team. The changes in my body didn’t help make me a better swimmer, and though I always enjoy it, I don’t want to swim competitively anymore. Since that chunk of time is free, I’ve spent it putting all of my focus into my classes.
I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit Drake had a small part in me not wanting to swim anymore. He schooled me one day when he jumped into the pool and pretty much swam laps around me. He didn’t even have to try to beat me, it was so easy for him. It wounded my pride, not that I ever let him know it. Swimming was never my passion, just something I did to put on my college applications. Yet it still stings that he picks at me in small ways. I try and let it roll off me and show that I don’t care, but like right now with Mom reading my face, everything always shows. I’m not great at hiding my emotions, but I still try.
A saleslady pops her head into the dressing room. “I’ve got more,” she says in a chipper voice.
Mom walks over and takes the dresses from her as I try to get out of the one I stuffed myself into. My phone dings from inside my bag and I almost trip over the bottom of the dress trying to get to it. Mom laughs at me while helping me get it off before I snag my phone and see Lindsey sent me a text from the food court. I’m supposed to meet her there after dress shopping.
It’s a picture of Drake sitting with Liam. She’s utterly in love with Liam, but I’m not sure he notices. He’s mute—by choice, because I’ve heard him mutter a handful of words when he’s saying hello back to my mom to be polite. It’s probably why he and Drake get along so well. They’re both assholes that can’t be bothered.
Lindsey: Please?
She texts knowing I don’t want to hang out with Drake, but if I did it would give her a reason to be near Liam. I think she enjoys trying to get him to talk. I swear hearts dance over her head when he grunts. Lindsey is the only one who ever remembers Drake is my stepbrother. Everyone always forgets because that’s how wide of a berth we give each other.
When we pass each other in the hallways we don’t give the other a second look. It’s sad when I think about it. He used to be my whole world but now when I look at him I only get angry. It’s irrational and I don’t understand it, so I avoid him. It’s what I’m best at.
Lindsey: I’ll owe you.
I glance to the new pile of dresses, knowing I’ll cave. “Twenty more minutes. I’m supposed to meet David for date night,” Mom says, already knowing what I’m going to ask.
Me: Fine. See you in twenty.
She’s going to owe me big time for this one.
“Lindsey?” Mom asks as she shuffles through the new stack of dresses.
“Yeah, we’re meeting in the food court.” I have a love-hate relationship with the food court. They have the best food, but I also know a lot of people from school will be there. I’m surprised I haven't run into someone already, but that’s probably because Mom reserved a dressing room for just her and me.
“Drake is at the mall too. Can you ride home with him?” She doesn't look at me when she asks the question, so I don’t have to mask my face at the thought of sharing a small space with him.
“Whatever is easier for you. I’ll figure it out.” Mom and I rode together and I don’t know if Lindsey drove herself. I can always catch an Uber on the sly and no one would ever know.
Mom gasps as she pulls out one of the dresses.
“Wow.” Even my eyes widen at the sight of it. It’s breathtaking as she brings it over and helps me put it on.
“It looks like a wedding dress,” Mom says, zipping up the side for me. My eyes meet hers in the mirror and I can see they’re filling with tears.
“Mom.” I turn to her, smiling as I look down at myself. The dress is perfect and I don’t think it’s going to need any alterations.
“It’s like it was made for you.” She kisses my cheek and I say a silent thank you to my dad for talking me into doing this. Homecoming might suck but this moment was worth it. “Just look.”
She turns me around to face the mirror again and for once I don’t feel awkward in my skin. The dress really does look like it was made for me. My curves fill it out in all the right places and I don't look like a little girl. With the white mermaid style clinging to my curves, I look like a woman.
“We’ll do shoes later,” she says and I groan, making her laugh.
“I can’t wear heels all night. I’ll hurt myself.” I’m not the most graceful and it’s why I picked swimming as my sport. At times it’s like I have two left feet and I can trip going up the stairs without any shoes on.
“We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
The dress is long and I’m thinking I could sneak some tennis shoes on under it or something. Though for some reason the longer I look at the dress in the mirror, the more I want to try for heels. It’s making me think of a lot of things I want to do that I haven't before.
“Can we do makeup too?” My mom freezes and you’d think I just told her I was pregnant or something. But she knows I’m on birth control since we had that talk almost a year ago.
“I thought we could do a day of it. Hair, makeup, and nails.” Mom looks so excited as she says it that I swear she might explode. I know since David came into our lives we get to enjoy more of the finer things in life, and Mom loves using them on me when I let her.
“Sounds fun.” I’m starting to think she’s right. I need to get comfortable in my skin, and a part of that might be trying different things.
“I’ll set it all up.” She beams as she helps me back out of the dress. “We’ll take this one,” she tells the sales lady as she steps out of the changing room. I get dressed and I stop to look at myself in the mirror. I’m in a loose shirt and my favorite jeans and I pull my hair down, shaking it free. I dig through my bag to find the lip gloss Lindsey left in it and put it on.
“Ready?” Mom asks as I step out.
“Yep,” I tell her, sliding my glasses back on. I don’t n
eed them all the time and they’re only required for reading, but I read so much I always have them on. Now, it feels weird when I don’t.
I pause as we’re about to leave the store and decide to take them off and put them in my purse. I’m just going for food so I don't need them.
Mom smiles at me. “I love when you wear your hair down.” She’s ready to go with the dress in a bag over her arm. “I’ll take it home,” she says as she gives me another kiss on the cheek. “Have fun tonight and stay out past your curfew if you want.”
I roll my eyes as I watch her walk out of the store’s front entrance, then I walk toward the food court. If anyone is going to be late or out past curfew it’s Drake. Not that I’ve paid much attention but we’ve both been given a curfew and I’ve never tested mine. I’m always home way before I need to be and Drake rolls in minutes before. Since he turned eighteen he only has one on school nights. Any other time he only has to call and let them know if he’ll be home that night or not but he hasn’t done it yet. Okay, maybe I pay attention but I don't want to. For some stupid reason I can’t seem to stop.
I see the food court is packed and I groan when I see Lindsey sitting at a table full of people. Why did she need me to come? She’s already sitting with my brother and a handful of other seniors. She’s pressed into Liam’s side and he’s stiff as a board. I want to laugh, but then Drake looks at me and my good mood fades.
“Over here!” Lindsey yells to me across the food court.
Half the people turn to look and I let out a long sigh. Great. With each step I make Drake looks more and more annoyed with me. I look away and pretend I don’t know him, because I honestly don’t. The boy who was once my best friend looks at me with so much anger and I don’t understand what happened. What we once had is gone and now he’s a stranger to me.
I can still feel his eyes on me and I’m sure he wants to tell me to get lost. He probably would, but I have a feeling Mom already texted him that I might need a ride. Mom is the only reason Drake is still somewhat nice to me or acknowledges my existence, not because he wants to.