Nova and Quinton: No Regrets (14 page)

December 22, day fifty-four in the real world

Things have been getting really unbalanced in my life. My mom informed me that Delilah’s mother needs help looking for her daughter and that she’s going to help her. I’m not even sure why my mother is helping, but she said it was because Delilah’s mom asked, after the two of them ran into each other at the store. They aren’t really friends or anything but I guess Miss Pierce hasn’t been doing that well lately and kind of broke down about Delilah and also revealed that she’s been having health problems. Maybe that’s why she suddenly decided to start searching for her daughter after all this time.

I told my mom what Quinton told me about the fire, the gun, and the gunshot. She said for me not to worry about it. That she had a feeling everything was going to turn out okay, but she always says that, mostly because she worries I’m going to break apart anytime life gets hard. But I’ve never really given her much of a reason to think otherwise.

Then there’s Tristan. Heavy sigh. Tristan is a huge complication at the moment. He’s been acting really weird, although his health has been improving. He actually had some sort of infection and had to be put on antibiotics. The doctor said he has a really weak immune system and I got the impression that he suspected something more serious, but I’m not sure what exactly. I have some guesses that involve him doing drugs again, but he doesn’t show signs of it, at least when it comes to track marks and red rings around his nostrils. He’s been really nice lately, too, and if I’ve learned anything it’s that Tristan is an ass when he’s high.

Still, overly nice Tristan is making things slightly complicated. I’m actually starting to loathe being at my apartment, worried he’s going to finally actually try to kiss me, and I have no idea what the hell I’m going to do. I’ve been spending extra time at work and at the hotline center because of this, but I can’t stay away from my home forever.

It’s late when I get home and as I head up the stairway to my apartment, I find myself dreading going inside. I have a few sacks of Christmas presents in my hands. I’ve always been a last-minute shopper, which probably seems a little strange to some people since I have OCD and like order. It’s mostly because I hate the busyness of the stores. I shopped online for most stuff, but Lea dropped a hint the other day that she wanted a vintage Pink Floyd record, so I had to run to the music store downtown and try to find one. Lucky one of my band members works there and was able to track one down.

When I get to my apartment, I stick my head in, instantly catching a scent of cigarettes. “Lea?” I call out. “Tristan?”

“Lea’s not here,” Tristan replies and I hear something banging around.

I push the door open and walk in, slipping off my coat as I enter the living room. Then I stop dead in my tracks at the sight of Tristan hurrying to turn the television on while Jazz quickly stuffs something into the pocket of his yellow coat, a faint trail of smoke lingering in the air. I know what pot smells like and that’s definitely not the scent of pot. Still, the situation seems a little bit sketchy to me with how nervous they’re acting.

“Hey, Nova,” Tristan says casually as he sits back in the couch and puts his feet up on the coffee table with the remote in his hand.

“Hey,” I reply, glancing back and forth between the two of them. “What’s up?”

Tristan shrugs as he aims the remote at the television. “Nothing much. Jazz and I were just hanging out. Being bored and shit.”

Jazz looks at Tristan, then smiles at me as he puts on a beanie. “Yeah, just fighting the boredom of the potato state.” He gets to his feet, running his hands across the front of his coat like he’s smoothing the wrinkles out of it. “I’ll check you later, man,” he says to Tristan and brushes past me and out the door without so much as an introduction.

As soon as the door shuts, I target my attention on Tristan. “So what was that about?”

He shrugs, pretending to be fixated by the news on the television screen. “Nothing much. We were just hanging.”

I don’t believe him. “You guys were acting a little weird,” I point out as I set the presents down on the coffee table.

“Weird how?”

I shrug, setting my coat on the coffee table, eyeing his arms for signs he’s been shooting up, but he looks clean and honestly I don’t think that’s what was going on here. Still, something’s off. I can feel it in the air.

“Tristan, you’re not… I mean, you’re not doing…” I scratch my tattoo as I inch up to his side, wondering if accusing him is the right thing to do. I know if my mom had accused me back when I was getting high I would have either lied or gotten pissed. But I also feel like just letting it go means I’m not caring. “You’re not doing drugs again, are you?”

His expression hardens as he glares up at me. “Is that what you think? That I’m sitting here getting high?” He spreads his arms to his sides and glances around the clean living room. “Does it look like that’s what I’ve been doing?”

I shake my head, but something still doesn’t feel right. “No, but I saw that Jazz guy put something into his pocket.”

Tristan gets a confused look, like he has no clue what I’m referring to, but the realization crosses his face. “Oh, that was his lighter. He was going to smoke in here, but I told him to put it away,” he explains.

I fan my hand in front of my face. “It smells like he did.”

He presses his lips together, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Fine. If you want to know what’s up, then yes, he smoked in here. Sorry for breaking the rules.” He’s mad at me and I open my mouth to say… well, I don’t know, but he reaches forward and threads one of his fingers through the belt loop of my jeans, pulling me toward him. His anger turns to dead seriousness as he looks me straight in the eye. “Nova, I swear to you that I’m not doing drugs.”

I study him, something still off, but ultimately I nod. “All right, I’m sorry for accusing.”

“I forgive you, but only if you’ll watch a movie with me.” He yanks on my belt loop and pulls me forward until I stumble onto the couch beside him, pretty much landing on his lap.

I start to move off him, but he yanks me back so I am sitting on his lap. My lips part and my eyes widen as he snakes his arms around me, the scent of cigarette smoke and his cologne surrounding me. “Tristan, I—”

It’s at this moment that Lea decides to stroll into the house. As she shuts the door behind her and turns to face us, her expression changes from elated to shocked.

“Holy hell.” She takes in the sight of us and her jaw nearly drops to her knees.

I press her with a look, begging her not to say anything to make the situation worse.
Help me
, I mouth.

She takes the hint and then, being the awesome friend that she is, says, “Nova, can I talk to you in my room for a minute?”

I gratefully nod and then get up from Tristan’s lap like it’s on fire. Then Lea and I leave the living room with Tristan giving us a weird look as we duck down the hallway. Once we’re in Lea’s room and the door is closed, she spins toward me with her hands on her hips. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah, holy shit,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief as I pace her room.

“What the hell was that?” she asks, unbuttoning her black plaid coat.

I shrug, counting the number of nail polishes she has on her vanity, not really caring at the moment that I’m reverting back to my bad habits. I’m stressed out and I need relief. Just a minute or two and then I’ll stop. “I have no idea what happened. One minute I was making sure everything was okay with him and the next he’s pulling me down onto his lap.”

She tosses her coat onto her bed, frowning. “I knew this was going to happen.”

I stop pacing and look at her. “How?”

“Because I can see it in his eyes every time he looks at you,” she says, unlacing her boot as she sits down on her bed. “He likes you. And I mean like-likes you.”

I want to argue with her, but only because I don’t want to accept the truth. “I know… he had a thing for me once a year or so ago.”

“I think he’s never gotten over it,” she says, kicking off her boot. “But the question is: do you think of him that way?”

I immediately shake my head. “No, Tristan’s just a friend.”

“Are you sure?” There’s accusation in her tone. “Because you don’t really crush on guys and I’m starting to wonder if maybe you just don’t realize when you have feelings for someone.”

“I know when I have feelings.” I sigh and sit down on the bed beside her. “I’ve had them before once… twice.”

She wiggles her foot out of her other boot. “With Landon. And.…?” She waits for me to say it, even though she knows.

“You know it’s Quinton,” I say, pulling the elastic out of my hair and combing my fingers through it.

“How would I when you never say it?”

She’s right. Way too right. I never say much aloud unless it’s to my camera.

“It’s hard to say it sometimes,” I disclose, side-braiding my hair and securing it with an elastic. “When I don’t know how he feels or if I’ll ever see him again.”

She takes a shimmering, knee-length black dress off a hanger. “I’m sure you will.”

I shake my head as she steps deeper into the closet to change. “I’m not so sure. Every time I talk to him… it seems like he thinks that it might be too hard to see me again… he keeps saying one day down the road but I don’t know…” I rest back on my elbows and sigh.

She steps out of the closet, wearing a tight sheer black dress with sparkling heels. “You could always just ask him.” She reaches for the silver jewelry box on her vanity.

“I don’t want to push him,” I say, sitting up. “He always gets uncomfortable whenever I say something about visiting him.”

“You don’t need to be pushy when you ask.” She takes out a black diamond earring and clips it on her ear. “Just make it a question and be okay with whatever answer he gives you.” She puts the other earring in and then does a little twirl with her hands out to her sides. “How do I look?”

“Super fancy.” I stand up. “Where are you going?”

“Out.” She winks at me as she collects her purse.

I hurry and cut her off as she strides toward the door. “No way.” I span my hands out to the sides, trying to block her path. “Enough with the secrecy. Fess up.”

She rolls her eyes at me as she reaches for her coat on the bedpost. “I’m just going out with some friends.” She drapes the coat over her arm. “Jesus, Nova. You need to chill out.” She pushes past me, but halts before the door. “Look, I’m your best friend so I can say this. Do yourself a favor and let Tristan know where you stand, wherever that may be.” She grabs the doorknob and pulls the door open. “And let Quinton know where you stand. It’ll be good for you, I think.”

I want to be angry with her for telling me to do things I don’t want to, but I can’t. “Thank you, Lea,” I say, following her out the door. “But I still think you’re lying to me about where you’re going tonight.”

“Think what you want.” She grins in response. “Totally off the subject, but can I borrow your car, in just a bit, for a couple of hours?”

I think about telling her no unless she’ll fess up to where she’s really going, but I’m not that big a bitch. “Sure, but you’ll have to drop me off at practice and then pick me up afterward.”

She frowns, because she hates taking me to practice. She actually probably would have been in my band if she hadn’t broken the heart of Jaxon, the lead singer. “Fine, but I’m staying in the car.”

“That sounds good to me,” I tell her. “But then again, it’s totally okay for you to come in and say hi. In fact, I know Jaxon would love it.”

“Nova, I love you to death, but you need to get over the idea of Jaxon and me ever getting together again.”

“I am over the idea, but at the same time, if you guys get back together I wouldn’t mind.”

“We won’t get back together.
Ever
,” she says, frustrated. “Seriously, Nova. You need to let go of the past… this is why I don’t tell you stuff.” Then she hurries down the hallway and leaves me standing there with her words replaying in my mind.

Getting stuck in the past is an issue I’ve struggled with for quite a while. I have a hard time letting go. I thought I was getting better, though, but she pretty much just threw in my face that I’m not.

I try to decide whether I should go out and tell Tristan there will be no more forehead kisses or lap-sitting. But after lurking in the hallway for a moment, I decide to go back into my room and get ready for band practice, even though it’s not for a few hours, because I’m a big chicken who’s not ready for confrontation at the moment.

* * *

Thankfully, band practice gives me time away from my thoughts. After an hour of playing, I feel good. And the amazing feeling only increases after we’re done playing. I’m bouncing up and down like a little kid strung out on candy as I’m informed that my band got a gig. And not just any gig, but one where we get to open for Peaceful Injustice, one of my favorite indie rock bands of all time, next weekend on New Year’s eve. Jaxon announces this to us in the garage of his house, the place where we practice because we’re all broke students and can’t afford to rent a studio space.

Jaxon is a pretty good-looking guy, if you like that whole mysterious rock-star look. He’s tall and kind of lanky with dark brown hair that hangs in his eyes, but in an intentional kind of way. He’s dressed head to toe in black today, with a studded belt, boots, and leather bands on his arms.

“So what do you think?” Jaxon asks me after he’s made the epic announcement.

I tuck my drumsticks into the back pocket of my jeans as I search the garage for where I left my jacket. “I think it rocks. But what I’m wondering is how the hell you managed to get them to let us open for them.”

“He’s got connections,” Spalding calls out as he unplugs his guitar from the amp. He’s got longer hair, too, like Jaxon, only his is jet black. He has a pierced eyebrow and colorful artwork is tattooed all over his arms to create full sleeves. He’s got gauges in his ears and he’s also wearing all black, but that’s normal for him.

Nikko snorts a laugh as he puts his guitar away. He’s got short hair that sort of spikes up at the top and his eyes are crazy intense because if you stare at them long enough they almost look gold. His taste in clothes is a little bit more eccentric. Right now he’s wearing this bright-red fitted shirt and these baggy black pants with zippers and buckles all over the front. His black boots have gray skeletons on them and his fingernails are black. He’s the baby of the group, only eighteen; he’s also Jaxon’s cousin.