Читать книгу Anything to Have You - Paige Harbison - Страница 14

CHAPTER FIVE

I WENT BACK in, appreciating the warm gusts of heated air that beat down on our table. I cleared my throat and tried not to make eye contact with either my dad or Marcy. Which was difficult, since they were both staring at me.

“Was that a boy, Miss Natalie?”

“No...I mean, yeah, but it’s Brooke’s boyfriend.” I avoided my dad’s gaze.

“Ooh, that tall one? She showed me a picture of him a long time ago when she first met him. He is cute. They’re still together? That’s so sweet.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty cute. Um. Daddy, he’s going to stop by here for a minute if that’s okay.”

He studied me, probably trying to figure out what was really going on—he didn’t stand a chance, since even I didn’t know—and Marcy elbowed him.

“That’s fine, sweetie, I’ll keep your dad company.”

I spent the remaining few minutes trying to calm my unnecessarily wrought nerves and to not watch every set of headlights. I failed, though, and finally one of the sets of headlights was his. He pulled into the lot and parked right outside. I looked down at my Sprite, but found myself watching him step out of his Jeep, lock it and make his way inside.

He looked particularly good, wearing a pair of dark jeans he’d had forever, a gray T-shirt and a black zip-up that was not zipped up. I really wished it was, since I realized my gaze had dropped to his abdomen. I had a flash of what it would be like to race my hand up under the cotton and feel his warm skin.

Whoa. That thought was super not okay. Get ahold of yourself, Shepherds.

He walked over to our table, and I could smell his body wash. I had always liked it, but it seemed like an odd thing to notice, much less to compliment.

“Hey, all,” he said. “Mr. Shepherds, how you been? He held out his hand and gave my dad a firm handshake.

“Hey, guy, good, good, how are you?”

I blushed a little at my dad’s enthusiastic greeting.

“And you’re...Marcy, is it?” Aiden shook her hand, too, and I noticed that his grip was considerably softer.

“Yes, it is,” she said, blushing a little.

“Natalie says you’re their favorite waitress, and she’ll accept diner fare from no one else, so I figured it must be you.”

“Oh.” Marcy waved a hand at me, blushing even more than I was.

“Do you all mind if I steal Natalie away for a few?”

“Of course!” responded Marcy, not my dad. “Here, why don’t you two settle up here at the counter, and I’ll grab you a nice piece of coconut cream pie. Natalie and John get it every time they come in, and I know you’ll love it.”

“Sounds awesome,” he said.

I couldn’t help but like a guy who didn’t hate dessert. It seemed like so many guys did.

We sat down on the red vinyl stools, silent as we waited for Marcy to return from the kitchen. My stomach churned and I bit my tongue as I tried to both think of something to say and stop myself from talking. She came back after only about a minute, coming over with one small plate with a perfect slice of pie on it, and two forks.

“Enjoy.” She smiled, and went back over to my dad. She sat in my spot and started in on my half of his pie, and—I suspected—on distracting him from my conversation with Aiden.

“You have the first bite,” I said, pointing to the sharp top of the triangle. “It’s the best part until you get to the back crust.”

“You sure? I don’t want to steal your favorite bite.”

“Oh, please, I have it at least once a week.”

He laughed and took the bite. His eyebrows went up and he nodded. “That’s extremely delicious pie.”

A smile tensed my cheeks as that hint of an accent showed through on the word pie. I wanted to tease him for it, like I might ordinarily do, but something stopped me.

“Isn’t it? It’s my favorite.”

“Yeah. Wow.” He took another bite.

I liked that he liked it. I didn’t know why.

“So...what’s up?” I asked.

“I wanted to make sure everything was cool about last night.”

“Oh, you mean—” I dropped my voice “—sleeping in the same bed? I didn’t tell Brooke. She didn’t ask, either, I don’t think it matters. I say, let’s not bring it up.”

He looked at me for a long moment, looking a little frozen, and then took another bite. “Yeah.”

I became conscious suddenly of my increasingly strong heartbeat. “Or do you mean...”

He waited for me to go on.

“I know we were flirting...when we were playing cards and all,” I said. After sitting around feeling guilty and dehydrated all day, I had begun to fear that maybe I had been the initiator more than I realized, and that perhaps it had all been in my drunken brain that he had been flirting with me, too. “I’m really sorry about that. I totally didn’t mean to be like that. I mean, Brooke is my best friend.”

“Right. I guess we’ll forget about the whole thing. I’m sorry, too.”

“You have no reason to be sorry, I was being a flirt. I don’t know. I must have picked up the habit from Brooke and not even noticed.” I laughed, feeling nervous and knowing I was talking a lot.

“She’s certainly flirtatious.”

“Hey...I know she acts how she acts, but that’s just because she’s like that. It’s nothing to do with you or how she feels about you.”

That felt better. That made up for how I had acted a little bit: doing some damage control for her.

“Right,” he said again. He seemed to go into deep thought, and I felt suddenly like I had made him angry again.

I took a deep breath, glanced at my dad’s table to be sure they weren’t looking at us and then asked, “Aiden...we didn’t hook up...did we?”

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. I couldn’t believe I had asked that. But no, it was good that I’d asked, I needed to know. Needed to be sure. Because while the evidence pointed to Eric...I had woken up with Aiden, and if I was forced to choose sober who I would rather kiss, I knew who that would be. Even admitting that to myself was difficult, but there it was.

He hesitated, probably thinking I was an idiot, and then said, “No. We didn’t.”

“Right. Of course not. It’s really embarrassing how little I remember. It’s pretty messed up.”

“Not a good feeling, I’m sure.”

His tone was still clipped and impatient-sounding.

“So, um, I guess let’s go back to normal. Is that okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. Sure.” He gave me a tight smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Well, I better head out. You should, too, the roads are getting kinda tricky out there.”

“We will. I guess I’ll see you in the morning—you’re picking us up?”

“School’s canceled tomorrow, I just heard it on the radio.”

“Nu-uh, really?”

“Really really.” He still looked annoyed. I longed to bring him out of whatever it was.

“Well...Tuesday, then, I guess.”

“Tuesday it is.” He pulled out a ten-dollar bill and put it under the plate I had just taken the last bite off of.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Natalie, it’s fine.”

He stood, and we both walked over to my table. Dammit. I had probably just made him feel super weird.

“Nice to see you guys, have a good night. Drive safely. I was just telling Nattie—Natalie—that the roads are getting kind of slick.”

“Yes, we’re going to head out pretty soon here. Nice seeing you again, Aiden, keep your eye out for other drivers.”

He gave another tight-lipped smile and a nod before waving and walking out. I watched as he made his way to the car and got in. He took a second before starting the car, running a hand through his hair and staring at the wheel. After a second, he started it up and pulled out of the spot quickly and effortlessly.

I watched him go, not sure at all how to feel. Something was different. Something was up with him. If we had hooked up, and I didn’t remember, I couldn’t really see him not telling me. If he was mad at me for hooking up with Eric, that would be weird, too. Maybe he thought it was my fault I had stayed in the bed with him. Maybe he was right. Maybe he felt weird about having to lie to Brooke about it.

I thought for a second about simply telling her, but quickly decided that, no, that was a stupid idea. She really would kill us both.

* * *

BROOKE TEXTED ME not long after and told me she wanted to come pick me up to sleep over. My dad agreed to let me, but only if he drove me, because of the weather.

“You’re not hungover at all?” I asked her, walking in and tossing my bag on the steps.

“Oh, Nattie.” She laughed. “It would take a lot more to get me hungover.”

“But you were pretty drunk,” I said.

“Yeah, but I usually only get hungover if I don’t eat or something. Anyway, hi!” Brooke plopped herself on the couch in the living room. “Did you have more fun than you thought you would last night?”

“I did, actually...yeah. You and Aiden okay after the whole Justin thing?”

She waved a hand. “He told me to forget it and that we all make mistakes or whatever. It was surprisingly relaxed of him.”

I didn’t know exactly what I was feeling. Relief, I suppose, that no one had said something like, Oh, yeah, Natalie and Aiden were being completely weird together.

It was upsetting and strange, not being able to tell her something. Aiden was probably feeling the same way, since I doubted he had ever lied to her or withheld anything from her, either.

“Well, that’s good, I’m glad he wasn’t too pissed at you.”

“Definitely. But I am going to do what you were talking about, and be a better girlfriend. You’re so right. I need to stop trying to get attention from other guys. Aiden is everything I ever wanted. He’s smart, protective, hot as all get out and, I mean...he’s all about me. And you know what I love?”

“What?”

She smiled and bit her lip. “Sometimes when he’s pissed or drunk or tired or whatever? A tiny bit of that Texas accent comes out. And God, it’s hot. Because it’s not like a redneck accent. It’s like...like a Southern gentleman accent.”

I bit my lip, remembering how, only an hour ago, I had heard that very accent.

Brooke looked proud of herself. “I really need to stop acting like he’s not enough.”

“Yeah. Probably a good idea.”

“I’ve been freaking out, because no matter where I go next year, I won’t be near him. Or you. Unless I go to Towson.” She mimed a gun at her temple. “He’ll be at College Park being all successful and busy with his vet program, and I’ll be a million miles away. It’ll never work unless I stay here.”

“Right...but I’ll only be here because I’m an idiot who hasn’t figured herself out yet. And my dad only gave me one semester to figure it out, and then he’s reportedly going to start applying to places for me.”

Brooke groaned. “Maybe I’ll stay here, get knocked up and live off Aiden and his vet money, have beautiful children and spend my afternoons at, like, Bikram yoga or something.”

I took the throw pillow from next to me and tossed it at her face. “You are a lost cause.”

“I know it!” She squeezed the pillow and bent over it with a groan. “Okay, but point is! I’m not breaking up with Aiden, because even if we are doomed for a breakup, I’d like to enjoy the rest of the year with him. I love him, ya know?”

“Are you in love with him?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but evidently couldn’t bring herself to say that, yes, she was in love with Aiden. She started smiling, and I shook my head and said, “That’s what I’m saying.”

“Ugh, Nattie...I mean, if we were older, yes, it would be selfish. But what, am I holding him back from meeting someone new or something? No, there’s, like, three months left in high school. I’m pretty sure he knows who he’s going to know until next fall.”

I became suddenly conscious of my facial expression.

“And what would the point be in being single now,” she went on, “right when you find a boy?”

“I did not find a boy!”

“Yes, you did, and he’s superhot, named Eric Hornby, and I’m so excited!” She spewed the words quickly and bounced up and down. “Which is why—” she stood up and went into her purse “—we’re going to have a spa night.”

“Spa... What did I say? I said no movie-style makeover!”

“It’s not a makeover! At all. It’s a spa night. We’re going to refresh ourselves. I’m not saying you need to do anything to look better, but every girl feels better with freshly buffed skin, shiny nails and perfect eyebrows.”

We both knew that she was a magician when it came to all things appearance-related. She nodded at me, knowing I was going to let her do her magic.

I sighed, resigned.

“Yay! We’re going to beautify ourselves. I repeat...it’s a spa night, not a makeover.” She squealed and ran over to hug me. “This is going to be the best time ever. Ohmigod. We can double date. How fucking cute is that? Ooh, game night!”

“You are getting way, way ahead of yourself,” I said as she went over to her speakers and put on the new Black Keys album.

The music wasn’t on for a full verse before Brooke’s mom came into the kitchen looking irritable but perfectly put together, as she always did. It must be where Brooke got it.

“Brooke, turn that down, honestly. I’m scrambling to get my things together, I really can’t listen to you blast music right now.”

Brooke rolled her eyes at me, but said, “All right, sorry.”

“Now, I’m gone until Wednesday, I need you to really get on this college thing. If you don’t make up your mind—”

“Mom, I am, I told you. I went to the guidance office, but I have to go back at the end of the week when I have an appointment with my counselor.”

She shook her head and pulled her Kindle and its charger from the wall by the desk. “It’s so incredibly last second. You should have been on top of this a lot sooner.”

“I know that, you already yelled at me about this a hundred times, what’s the point in continuing to talk about it? I’m doing what I can now, so just stop.”

Her mom raised her eyebrows in a signature move that had always intimidated me. “You want to adjust your attitude?”

“I can’t do anything about it right now, regardless, so I don’t see why we have to go on and on about it.”

“Because if I don’t bring it up, you will choose to forget about it, and then you’ll end up loafing around here next year.”

“That is not true! I—”

“Look, Brooke, I don’t have time to argue about this right now. I have to make sure this flight is still taking off because of the weather.”

“You brought it up! Jesus.”

“Watch it, Brooke.”

Brooke took a deep breath that filled her chest, and then sat on the couch next to me. She stared at the wall with her arms crossed, saying nothing but gnawing on her thumbnail until her mom left, talking loudly on her cell phone about a layover she wanted to avoid.

Once she was gone, Brooke popped up, said nothing about the verbal squabble and went back to being her normal self. Like always. I had come to know and expect this.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, and disappeared upstairs and out of sight as I turned up the music. She returned with the Tiffany Blue crate full of bottles, lotions and tools that usually sat on the bottom of her bathroom shelf.

The first thing she did was slather some horrid oil in my hair and wrap it up in a little terry-cloth turban. The second thing she did was pop a bottle of champagne.

“I had Aiden get one of his friends to bring us some bubbly. I think it’s necessary.”

I laughed and took the glass she handed me.

“Now,” she said. “You might want to down that first glass.”

“Oh, no, why...?” The thought of drinking again made my stomach turn, but as always, I had trouble saying no to her. She was the only person who consistently had this effect on me.

“Because this mask is going to burn a little.”

It did. The next seven processes we did were equally uncomfortable. There was so much burning, tingling, plucking, pulling...and so therefore quite a few refilled glasses. I chucked two of them in the sink when she wasn’t looking.

“All right, now on to the last portion.”

“I’m dying to know why we’re wearing your freshman-year bikinis, Brooke.”

“Because!” She pulled a screw-top tub of nasty greenish-brown stuff from the blue crate. “Come on over.”

“What is that?”

“It’s, like...seaweed and oatmeal and honey and chamomile and about forty other things. Come here, I have to slather you!”

I took a few timid steps, and she took a handful and laid it on my bare stomach.

“Oh, my God, that is gross.”

“It really is.” She spread it around, grimacing. “But it’s worth it! Because—and I’m really sorry this is how it is—boys like girls who are put together.” She gave a what can I say? shrug. “What do you want to be? Do you want to be a Pretty Girl with a capital P and a capital G? Or just a regular ol’ pretty girl?”

“I mean, I guess...the first one?”

“Well, there are a couple of things you have to be before you can be a Pretty Girl. I’m not saying you should slab on the makeup until you end up with a three-layer cake on your face, but you have to take extra-special care of yourself. You don’t end up with skin that is the softest he has ever felt by using a regular soap bar and nothing else. Or hair that is so shiny that he wants to reach out and touch it, and find out if it really is as smooth as it looks.

“You don’t end up with lips he longs to kiss again and again when you don’t slough them off with a sugar scrub every once in a while. When he imagines you, he should think of every sensation of you before he remembers how you look. How you sound when you laugh at a joke he makes, how your soft, sun-kissed shoulder feels in his calloused hand, how your lips taste like sugar and how when you get just close enough to him, he can catch a slight breeze of you and he’ll always remember that you smell like flowers and sunshine.” She finished covering me in the mud, looking nonchalant, as if she hadn’t just recited words that could have carried a whole ad campaign.

I gawked at her. I had never heard her be so profound, had never had so much insight into how she became the glistening goddess she was. “Wow, Brooke.”

It did make perfect sense, though, that Brooke’s entire outlook was based on appearance. Her foundation of life and love started with the belief that you needed to look and, thusly or at the very least, feel beautiful.

“It is only then,” she went on to say, “that he should remember that you’ve got a bangin’ bod and ass that don’t quit.”

“And back to the Brooke I know and love.”

She laughed and handed me the tub to slather her up. “I’m just saying. In movies, when they picture the girl who got away or who changed them completely, it’s never just a nice-looking girl being average and having normal problems. The girls are always laughing in the sunlight, moving a strand of perfect Aniston hair back from their eyelashes or lying in bed, with brushed, flossed and whitened teeth, no grocery store mascara in the corners of their eyes or hair filled with nasty product residue. You go for natural, but you make it the natural you choose. And of course, to top it all off, you need sparkling confidence and daring wit. Honestly, all of these things get you to the point that makes you the most confident, and that’s what causes the ‘smiling in the sunshine’ effect more than anything else. And you’ve already got wit, so you’re totally on your way.”

I thought about what she’d said as she stood, arms out for me to rub in the grossness, and took a sip from her glass.

She really was an oddly wise and glamorous girl.

When I finished, we washed our hands and champagne glass stems, then put the final potion on our faces. She grabbed four slices of cucumber, and we took some towels and lay them down in front of the enormous hearth in her living room. She had at some point lit a fire.

We lay down, side by side, and covered our eyes with the cucumbers.

“I’m sorry if I’m pushing you too hard about finding a guy,” she said after a few minutes. “I want someone to see you, and for you to feel the way that only a guy can make you feel. Maybe that’s Eric, maybe it’s not. But I want you to find someone.”