Moving in Reverse (13 page)

I squeezed his hand. “Shopping,
schmopping. I think every girl’s fantasy is to get a kiss like that
from Blake Parker,” I smiled.

“
Well, lucky you,” Blake
slid closer to me on the couch. “You get another one.”

Chapter
Seventeen

Blake was right — by the time I’d
showered and brushed my hair, a bag of clothes had arrived from
Intermix, a trendy boutique he assured me that April and Sophie
were obsessed with (he’d managed to talk me out of calling Forever
21).

Smartly, Blake whisked the bill out of
my sight right after signing for the packages, and I tried to keep
my eyes off the price tags for fear of making my head explode. One
look at the clothes, and I could tell they probably cost more than
our last-minute, first class flight to Los Angeles.

“
You like them?” Blake
peeked into the bedroom as I tried on the first dress.

“
I love them,” I turned my
back to him. “Zip me?”

Blake’s finger lingered on my back as
he slowly pulled the zipper up. I smiled over my shoulder and
turned around.

“
How do I
look?”

I’d picked a white sheath dress —
totally impractical in New York in November, but Los Angeles was a
different story. I paired them with black patent pointy-toe heels
and a chunky gold chain necklace. I’d brushed my hair out smoothly,
and even put on the mascara and lipstick, grateful that I’d put
them in my purse before we left for the airport.

“
You look perfect,” Blake
said, his voice low and appreciative. “They’re going to love
you.”

“
Where do they
live?”

“
You’ll see.”

“
What’s that supposed to
mean?”

Blake shrugged. “It’s not far, I
promise.”

“
Oh my god, are your
parents off the grid in some cabin? Blake, you do know I’m wearing
high heels, right?”

He laughed out loud. “Not exactly,” he
grinned at me.

It was weird — as much as I knew about
Blake as a musician, and about Blake as a person, I really didn’t
know that much about his life before Moving Neutral. I knew that
they’d formed the band in high school, and signed with a label
their senior year — which was why Blake was three years older than
me and a freshman in college. But his parents? Hardly anything. I
knew they’d never been totally on board about Blake’s music career,
but beyond that, he’d hardly mentioned them. Even when we’d been on
the tour bus all summer, his parents had only called once — after
the tabloids had run a story about Blake getting into a fistfight
at a bar in New Orleans.

Blake turned the car down a busy
street, away from the beach, so I knew we weren’t going to Malibu
at least. He put the top down, and I felt my hair blowing around
me, the warm sun on my shoulders.

“
This is perfect,” I
smiled at Blake. “I’m so happy we came.”

Blake drove us away from the ocean,
towards the heart of Los Angeles, and I tried not to look like a
tourist, peeking out the windows down the various streets. The
first time we’d been here had been such a whirlwind, with Blake’s
shows and my suddenly leaving, that I hadn’t really seen L.A. at
all. As Blake drove us past Rodeo Drive, I thought about shopping
with Sophie a few months ago, and tried to push it out of my head.
I wanted tonight to be exciting and fun, not bogged down in sad
memories.

Blake turned a corner and drove down a
more residential street, and this time I couldn’t stop my jaw from
dropping. Most of the houses were gated, but the glimpses I caught
were stunning — more like castles than what I’d call a house. Some
of them even had people at the gate, personal doormen to let in
visitors.

“
Are you lost?” I asked
Blake, realization starting to creep over me.

“
Nope, we’re almost
there.”

I bit my lip, and tried to smooth a
wrinkle out of my dress. Somehow whenever I started to feel like
Blake and I were on the same page, some new reminder popped up of
how different we were always going to be.

Blake turned at the next corner and
pulled into a driveway, punching in a code to open the gate. We
drove up the circular path and parked just outside the front door.
I took in the perfectly landscaped lawn, the immaculate groves of
flowers that surrounded the entryway. The palm trees that stretched
three stories into the air, lining the path up to the
house.

Blake parked the car and looked at me,
a reassuring smile on his face. He squeezed my hand. “Come on,
Case. I already told you — they’re going to love you.”

I took a deep breath, and gave Blake
my most confident smile. “I can’t wait,” I said, this time a little
less sure.

I was instantly relieved when Blake’s
mom answered the door herself — for some reason, I was suddenly
worried we’d have to be announced by a butler before going
inside.

“
Blake,” his mom’s voice
was warm and inviting, and she immediately opened the door wide and
grabbed him in a hug.

“
Mom, chill,” Blake said,
almost blushing, which made me smile.

“
I can’t help it,” she
looked at me conspiratorially. “My only son is three thousand miles
away, it’s every parent’s nightmare. But we’re so glad you’re home
for...” she paused. “What is this, vacation?”

“
Fall break,” I chimed in
when Blake looked like he wasn’t sure what to say. White lies were
better than explaining to my boyfriend’s parents that we were in
California because an entire fraternity placed bets on who could be
the first to sleep with me. And that I’d gotten poor Blake into
(yet another) fight on my behalf.

“
Is Brooke coming?” Blake
asked, switching the subject deftly.

“
She can’t,” Blake’s mom
said. “Some test on Monday — midterms, maybe? But hopefully she’ll
get to see you while you’re here.”

So Brooke was the sister. Brooke and
Blake. Cute.

I wasn’t at all surprised, but Blake’s
mom was strikingly beautiful. She also looked old enough to be his
sister, and not in a botoxed, spray-tanned way. She was completely
radiant, with the same bright blue eyes as Blake and long blonde
hair that she was wearing in a French twist. It was hard not to be
a little intimidated.

As if realizing that, she smiled at
me. “And you must be Casey,” she said, putting out a hand to shake.
“We’ve heard so much about you. How is college going?”

“
Good,” I chirped. Another
white lie. But I didn’t think she’d want to hear that Blake’s
good-influence girlfriend was barely pulling a C in Modern
Lit.

“
Must be a big
adjustment,” she commented, watching Blake’s reaction.

“
It’s fine, mom,” he said,
disentangling himself from her arm. “It’s good.”

An emotion passed across Blake’s mom’s
face, almost too slight for me to read, and then she looked back
into the entryway.

“
Your father’s just fixing
some drinks. Can I offer you a glass of wine, Casey?”

I froze. “I’m, um—” I stammered,
feeling my cheeks turn red. “I’m not twenty one.”

Blake laughed out loud, moving away
from his mom and swinging an arm around me. “Case,” he sighed,
still chuckling. “I don’t think she was trying to card
you.”

I bit my lip, mortified.
My parents had never given me a glass of wine in my entire life — I
wasn’t sure they’d let me drink in their presence
after
I was twenty
one.

“
Club soda, maybe?”
Blake’s mom offered, looking like she was holding back a giggle
too.

“
That’s perfect, thank
you.”

As she left the entrance, heading back
into the kitchen, I sunk my head onto Blake’s shoulder.

“
Why am I such a dork?” I
asked him, only half kidding. Less than half.

Blake ran his fingers through my hair.
“I don’t know,” he whispered, smiling. “But it’s one of my favorite
things about you.” He planted a soft kiss on my temple. “Come on,”
he grinned. “The sooner we get this over with...”

He let the words hang in the air, and
I felt my heart beat faster. Trying to stop the blush that was
creeping up my cheeks, I smiled at him.

“
Lead the way.”

Blake’s father was out in the backyard
— if it could be called a backyard. A white stone patio held a
table and chairs set for dinner, and the rest of the space was
taken up by a giant blue infinity pool, overlooking what had to be
most of Beverly Hills.

I stood still, blinking, for a second
before offering my hand to Blake’s dad to shake. “You have a
beautiful house,” I squeaked, hoping I didn’t sound as overwhelmed
as I felt.

“
Thank you, Casey,” he
said, and then held out a chair for me to sit down. “Tell us about
school — Blake says you’re going to be an English
major?”

I felt my stomach clench. Touchy
subject.

“
That’s what I’m leaning
towards,” I said, looking to Blake for reassurance, but he was
already deep in conversation with his mom. “We don’t pick majors
until next year, though, so I’m not sure yet.”

“
Of course,” Blake’s dad
looked like I’d said something that was actually intelligent.
“That’s what college is for, isn’t it? Getting a well-rounded
education. Not just picking one thing and hoping that it works
out.”

“
Right,” I said carefully.
“That’s what they say, isn’t it?”

Blake’s dad seemed to sense the
tension in my voice, because he leaned into me, his voice lower.
“We’re just so happy that Blake seems to be making something of his
life, and we know that a lot of those changes were inspired by you.
I want you to know that Elizabeth and I really appreciate that. If
there were any way this could have happened without—” He cut
himself off.

“
Without what?” I asked,
nervous.

His mouth snapped into a thin line.
“Well, it’s all been such a mess, hasn’t it?”

I felt my shoulders relax. “Yeah,” I
agreed. “I guess it has been.”

He relaxed too, and dropped the
subject. We spent a few minutes talking about the small suburban
town in Rockland, Connecticut that I’d grown up in — a pretty far
cry from Beverly Hills.

“
I should check on
dinner,” Blake’s dad eventually said, setting his glass down on the
table and getting up from his chair. “It should be almost ready by
now.”

“
Sure,” I said. I felt
Blake’s hand on my shoulder as he leaned back in the chair next to
me.

“
Hey,” he looked over to
his mother. “I thought you said Brooke wasn’t coming?”

“
She’s not, sweetie,” his
mom said, pulling out the chair at the head of the table and
slipping into it with effortless grace.

“
Then why is the table set
for five?”

Blake’s mom looked down at the table,
pretending to fuss with the cloth napkin that was folded over her
plate.

We all paused for a second, waiting
for her response.

And then the doorbell rang.

“
You’ve got to be kidding
me,” Blake muttered under his breath.

I looked from one of them to the
other, hoping for a clue about what we were in for, but neither of
them gave away anything.

A minute later, Blake’s dad appeared
at the entrance, carrying a serving tray loaded with
food.

And behind him, carrying a wooden
salad bowl and tongs, came Sophie.

Chapter
Eighteen

I felt like someone had punched me in
the stomach.

Sophie looked older, although I knew
it wasn’t really true. She’d lost weight, even though she’d always
been thin. Her blunt bangs had grown out into soft layers, giving
her face a more defined shape. Sophie had been my best friend all
summer, and she’d been one of the few reasons I’d felt comfortable
following Blake across the country.

Gazing out over the yard, she looked
at me with no expression, vacantly. I could have been a stray
mosquito she brushed away.

“
Soph,” I said
involuntarily, a gasp of surprise that made itself into
words.

I felt Blake’s hand on my knee, and
shot him a confused look. I knew he was as surprised as I was, but
his poker face was better than mine. While I felt my eyes widen
into saucers, Blake appraised the situation, glanced at his mother
accusatorily, and then shifted his face into a forced neutral. He
looked at Sophie the same way she looked back at him.

“
Where should this go?”
Sophie asked Blake’s dad, and his mom immediately shot up from the
table to take the bowl from her hands. Blake’s dad claimed the
other head of the table, and Sophie sat in the single seat across
from us.

With her on the other side of the
table, it felt like we were suddenly in the middle of a legal
negotiation. A divorce proceeding. I glanced at Blake again — I
hadn’t been there when he’d split from Moving Neutral, but I
imagined conference rooms, teams of lawyers.