Declaration (24 page)

“I’m one step ahead of you, sweetheart.” I bit her lip playfully and stood from the stool, calling Tia back up to the stage for a grand bow. Then I introduced the cover band I’d hired to the crowd, thanking everyone for coming out, and towed my girl off the stage to give her that dance. We hugged Tony and Tia goodnight and saw them off, then grabbed a few bites of our meals before ripping up the dance floor.

Technically, Whitney ripped it up. I just flung myself around like a moron, but I had a shit ton of fun. This was my kind of social.

The cover band had kicked off the party with Weezer’s “Pork and Beans”—my special request—and then launched into all kinds of 90s rock, including the best of the best: Soundgarden, Nirvana, Radiohead, and The Smashing Pumpkins.

I’d stepped out onto the beach for a smoke, texting Dean to let him know the cover band song list was a hit. The list was all his idea. The minute I raced home from asking Whitney out on the dock the other day, I called Dean and gave him his assignment. He was more than happy to do his homework, texting me nonstop the whole day with song suggestions. He’d finally settled on a list and emailed it to me just in time for me to hand it over to the cover band.

“For crying out loud,” Whitney groaned, stepping out to join me in the sand, “what did that asshat do now?” She was texting away, her busy fingers zipping over her cell.

“I assume we’re talking about Jackson, here?” I laughed and released a puff of smoke, watching it roll up and spread into the blackness.

“Of course. Who else?”

“What’s going on?” A few possibilities teased my thoughts: Natasha, Jack’s house- shopping plans, drama at the strip club…the list could go and on. But I kept my mouth shut, willing myself to keep the Jack and Emma drama at arm’s length. God knew I had enough of my own.

“Oh, just the usual. Something about Emma getting into that school out in Washington. I don’t know, I don’t have all the details yet. They’re so hot and cold lately, I don’t know what to make of it anymore. All I know is they belong together, but they can both be so goddamn stubborn!”

“You say this like it’s news.”

“Well, I just wish for once they’d get shit right, you know? They’re lost without one another. You’ve seen the evidence yourself.”

“Yeah, I can vouch for that.”

Whitney finished her text with a sigh of exasperation. I grinned at her knowingly as she dropped her cell back into her purse. But as her eyes rose her expression went cold, her face suddenly pale and blank. I straightened up in concern, following her gaze over my shoulder.

“Well looky here, how romantic. The two lovebirds out on a date.” Ruben breezed up to us, wearing a smug grin.

“Ruben,” Whitney warned, moving forward to push at his shoulders, “not now. Don’t do this.”

“Yeah, Ruben,” I put out my smoke, my hackles raising. “Damn, don’t you have anything better to do than crash someone else’s night? Give it a rest, dude. This whole act is getting old.”

“Who said it was an act?” he sneered, brushing Whitney’s hands away. “You two are on a date, it’s ridiculous, and I just happen to be in the area, so I’m here to point out the obvious.”

“Ruben!” Whitney snapped, her eyes daggers. “What in the hell is wrong with you? Carter, come on, let’s go. We don’t need to put up with his shit tonight.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, baby,” he laughed, walking backwards to follow her movement, “why so jumpy, huh?”

I reached for Whitney’s arm, growing more agitated by the second. This douche really had no sense. “Whit, don’t run off. Come on, we’re not going anywhere. Take a fucking hike, Ruben.”

“Hey, I’m just tryin’ to understand something, here.” He raised his hands, enjoying every second of Whitney’s discomfort.

“Oh, yeah? What’s that? Why you’re such an asshole? Because I have a theory. You wanna hear it?”

He crossed his arms in his usual lazy display of dominance. “Nah, I’m not interested in your dumbass theories, man. I just wanna know why you’re out playing boyfriend to a girl who took off on you two nights ago and ran straight to my place. To
my
bed. Why is that, bro? Whit? Care to share?”

My head jerked in Whitney’s direction. Her cheekbones were even paler, her eyes misty with looming tears. “What is he talking about?”

“Carter, that thing I wanted to talk to you about earlier—”

“Oh, snap!” Ruben started laughing—a full-on belly laugh that made my insides cringe. “You haven’t told him yet?” He threw his head back and his hands over his face. “Of course you haven’t.”

“Whitney?” I pressed, urging her to continue.

“I was so upset, so embarrassed. I didn’t know where to turn. Emma’s been so preoccupied with Jack and her sister and school, and I didn’t want to lay all my shit on her. I went to Ruben’s and I—”

“Stop,” I pushed back on my heels, not wanting to hear the end of that sentence. “Just…don’t say it.” A hot rush of bile burned the back of my throat, the high of the night crashing down on my shoulders. The laughter, the kissing, the dancing, all of it made my stomach roll. The night’s events sank to the pit of my stomach, anchoring in its depths. It was like someone had just played one huge joke on me, watching me sing and dance and confess my love to a woman, waiting for the perfect moment to pull the rug from underneath me and shatter my happiness.

Ruben was probably that jokester.

“I tried to tell you, man,” Ruben chided, “don’t tell me I didn’t try to tell you.”

“Ruben, just shut up!” Whitney shrieked, batting him away. “Carter, I went to his place, but nothing happened. Please, Carter, listen to me.”

My chin dropped. I couldn’t look at her. But I did catch the slight tremble of her hands at her waist. For the first time ever, I actually wanted to confront something.

With my fist.

“Ruben,” I said, my voice rigid and low, “I’m giving you two seconds to walk away before I break your face.” The tone of my own voice alarmed me. I don’t think I’d ever heard myself that angry. Ever.

My words only amused him more, sending him strutting up to me with his wide-set shoulders and hard-as-steel chest. “You sure you wanna go there, bro?”

I wasn’t just sure. I was absolutely positive.

“One,” I counted, breathing hard through my nose.

“Carter!” Whitney wedged herself in between us, imploring me to look her in the eyes.

“Two.” I’d never been on this side of the fence. Not once. All throughout my school days, I was the one to be beaten up. I was easy pickings for people like Ruben. But in that moment, watching those pompous eyes and that arrogant stance of his, everything snapped.

My fist shot forward with a loud crack. I think it was cartilage. Maybe bone. I had no freaking clue, but whatever it was, it felt good. There was no way this jackass was going to piss all over something I’d just tried to mend.

“Carter, don’t!” Whitney screamed, pulling desperately at Ruben’s shoulder to keep him away from me.

It was no use.

Ruben’s nose was bleeding and rage had bloomed inside of him, so deep the ire was palpable, mixed in right there, with the Gulf air. Ruben lunged at me and I caught a group of onlookers forming along the entrance to the hotel bar. We kicked up sand as we tackled each other to the ground. Whitney screamed ceaselessly. Ruben delivered a powerful punch to my torso and the wind was knocked from my lungs.

“Yo, that’s enough!” A voice permeated my tunnel vision. Another pair of hands was suddenly wrapping around my chest, prying me out from underneath Ruben’s heavy weight. “Not on my property!”

Through the fuzzy haze of the scuffle, I could make out the voice—the owner of the bar. The one I’d made arrangements with to hold our little party. One glance at him and it was clear he wasn’t happy about what was going down. It was a safe bet that I’d worn out my welcome.

“Whitney, when you’re ready to be with a real man, you know where to find me,” Ruben hissed through his teeth, breaking away from the scene. He shrugged his shoulders, angrily dusting off the sand from his t-shirt. “I’m done.”

I apologized to the bar owner and stood, not bothering to wipe the sand from me as I straightened myself out. He ushered everyone away from the spectacle and disappeared back inside the restaurant, leaving me and Whitney alone.

“Your lip!” Whitney rushed forward, reaching for my face.

I bumped her away. “I’m fine.”

“You’re
not
fine. Your lip is bleeding. I think you split your piercing open.”

“I need to get home,” I said, walking around her.

“Carter, listen to me. I swear nothing happened. You have to believe me, please.”

“Yeah,” I scoffed, keeping up my stride, “nothing happened, yet you were that afraid to tell me you went to him after you left my place that night?”

She followed me, her breathing frantic. “I didn’t even tell Emma. I tell Emma
everything
! That’s how ashamed I was. I wanted to tell you. I was going to tell you tonight, but it didn’t seem like there was a good time. And then you surprised me with all of this…please, I felt terrible for turning to him, of all people. I felt weak, and I knew it would hurt you, knowing you knew about my feelings for him. I was wrong. It was a mistake. But we talked, that was it! He’s just trying to rile you up! I’d never let him touch me. Not after you. Never, Carter.”

I stilled, my shoes sliding and planting me in the sand. A strange wave of calm washed over me. “Okay,” I said quietly, still unable to look at her.

A beat passed. “Okay…okay?”

“Yeah.” I licked my lip, tasting blood. “I get it.”

“You do?”

“The second your feelings are hurt, you run right back to the
last
guy you had feelings for. Makes perfect sense.”

“Carter.”

“Just let me go home, Whitney,” I begged, resigned. “Please.”

“Fine.” I could feel her stare still fastened to my face, despite the fact that I hadn’t made eye contact with her. I felt it drop as she moved to turn away.

“I love you,” she whispered.

With a hesitant step, she began to walk away, leaving me standing there in the stand. I’d lost my top hat in the scuffle. My shirt was torn at the sleeve, and I think Whitney was right. I think I busted up my piercing. It hurt like a son of a bitch. I wondered how our night had crashed and burned in a matter of seconds. I wondered if I’d wake in the morning with a clear head, a different perspective, after I slept the whole thing off.

As angry as I was, I believed her. She didn’t touch Ruben. But she still went to him, willingly. She still sought him out for comfort. They had chemistry. Before me, before us.

And that’s what stung the most.

For once, I’d thought I was no longer second best. Whitney made me feel like Number

One. But maybe I’d always been the backup, Number Two, and she just went back to Number One when her backup let her down. Maybe my effort backfired. I couldn’t show her she wasn’t just a rebound for me, and I’d been too naïve to see that I’d been the rebound all along.

13
MIRRORS

Something tickled my arm. I groaned, wanting the itch to go away so I could stay asleep.

All I wanted was to sleep.

The tickle persisted, and somewhere in the back of my groggy mind, I knew I had to move. My foot jerked, then the other, and finally, my arm rustled…away from the damn tickle. The warmth that coated me was a heavy quilt, weighing me down to the bed. My eyes cracked open, a tomb seal breaking, finding the source of the warmth. A comforter—not mine.

Stretching my arms up, I grasped the top of the comforter and slowly peeled it back, finding white light and a spinning ceiling fan—again, not mine. I lifted my head with another groan, but let it fall back against the pillow when I registered the intense throbbing pain radiating from my neck. “Damn,” I mumbled, shifting under the sheets. Everything felt dry. Sand grated between my fingers. I could feel it all over my body. I was fully clothed, and by one whiff of myself, the clothes were obviously the same ones I’d worn the night before.

Rolling my head to the left, I was greeted with a wild mane of dark black hair. I looked back to the fan, trying to make sense of my location, when it hit me.

I turned to the dark black hair again, and that’s when the room began to spin.

That hair wasn’t Whitney’s. This wasn’t her place, and it sure as hell wasn’t mine. I bolted upright in the bed, a sharp, stabbing pain zipping from my neck down to my back. The night’s events spilled on top of me like paint pouring from a tumbling paint can.

Me and Whitney.

Ruben, me, and Whitney.

Me hitting Ruben, Ruben hitting me.

Me leaving the beach to go home, only to wind up at Pete’s instead.

Me seeing no signs of Jack or Emma or anyone else I knew, but noticing a girl who looked eerily like to Whitney. Said girl offering to buy me a drink. Said drink turning into way too many drinks.

Leading to this.

My mind pushed my body through the aches and pains and into action. I slid out from underneath the covers and stood, the carpet shaggy beneath my feet. “Shit.” I spun in search of my glasses, locating them just a few feet away on the floor. I hurried over to them, tripping on the edge of the shaggy rug. I stumbled to the left and lost my balance, falling to the floor in a thump. I lifted my hands in a double “okay” symbol, shaking them toward the sky.