Solving for Ex (14 page)

Did I see some sadness in his eyes?

“Absolutely. I’ll see you on Monday. Save you a seat at lunch. You will still sit with me even though Sadie’s over, won’t you?”

“Even though you can start letting the hundred and one interested parties take the seat now?” I tried to make my voice sound like I was joking, even though I totally wasn’t. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be with Vincent, but somehow I felt like my sanity right now hinged on giving him a shot.

“I told you, Ashley. I like you. I’m trying not to be weird, but…I just want to spend more time with you. If I don’t freak you out, or anything.” He shrugged. “I mean, it’s school. It’s a public place.”

I laughed. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Most of your friends sit at our table anyway.”

“You mean, Brendan and Julia?”

“Yeah.” He smiled. He reached to the side and opened the door. “Ladies first.”

Ω

The whole next day, I couldn’t stop thinking about how Vincent had left me that night. The weirdest, most old-fashioned thing. He’d walked me up to the front door, thanked me again, lifted my hand, and kissed it. Then, he’d turned right around and left, throwing a smile and flashing his dimple at me over his shoulder.

I kind of liked it.

Maybe what weirded me out so much was that Vincent’s words matched up with his actions. So far, at least. Whether it lasted or not, that wasn’t something I was used to seeing. Not even from the person I trusted most.

Ω

I had Kristin drop me off at school fifteen minutes earlier than usual, texting Brendan and telling him not to worry about driving me. He replied back, “You sure?” but when I ignored him, he didn’t send any more texts. I knew, because I manually opened the messages app every fifteen seconds just to make sure.

I’d tossed and turned the whole night before, and I still had no idea what to say to Vincent about his proposition. If that’s what it was. Part of me wondered if the way he walked me to the door, and pressed his warm, soft lips to the back of my hand, and flashed those gorgeous brown-and-gold eyes at me, and murmured “good night” was only part of all my weird dreams.

I did a great job of skating through first, second, and third period, and the insane hallway time in between, dodging the four people I most did not want to see—Sofia, Brendan, Vincent, and Julia. I had no desire to talk about Sadie with them. Just better to let it go. Unfortunately, my good luck didn’t hold out.

I finally ran into Sofia between third and fourth period when I slipped into the girls’ bathroom. One of the stall doors swung open and almost whacked me in the face, and a split-second later, the telltale cloud of flowery perfume floated out from behind it.

“Ashley! Hey!” Her smile was a cross between the one I knew for sure was a fake and something that looked more genuine.

“Oh, hey, I was just—” I motioned toward the stall, but she hooked her arm in mine and strolled over to the sinks, then dropped it, pulled out her makeup bag, and started touch-ups while chatter about classes, school, electives, and gossip tumbled out of her mouth like an unstoppable waterfall.

As she talked, I stared at her mouth. I couldn’t understand how someone could keep up with that much makeup, and wondered if that’s what guys really liked. If that’s what Brendan really liked.

I let my eye glaze over, taking in her eye makeup, perfectly plucked eyebrows, and shining earrings. I tried to imagine myself doing that every day. My fingers touched my cheek, feeling the zit there, as well as the complete lack of makeup. I thought of my freckles that had come out during the summer, and about my pale brows, and the fact that I’d only ever worn diamond studs since my eleventh birthday, when Aunt Kristin had taken me to get my ears pierced.

It took me a second to realize Sofia had stopped talking to me and was staring at me, her eyebrows up.

“Ashley? Hello? Earth to Ash.” She laughed from her belly, like it was the funniest freaking thing she’d heard all day.

“I’m sorry. What?”

“You mean, ‘Pardon?’”

I fought hard not to glare at her.

“I was just saying that you could make it a little easier on him.”

“Him…?”

“Vincent, silly! He’s starting to mope, and generally be a pain in my ass.”

“Mope about what?”

“Honestly, were you even paying attention at all?” She laughed again, as if someone not paying attention to her would be the silliest thing possible. “He likes you. He told me he told you, but I’m sure he didn’t, or he did it in some stupid surreptitious way, because…”

“Oh no. He told me.”

“And? Was he stupid about it?”

“I…no. I don’t know. I don’t think so. He told me he wanted to spend more time with me. That he liked me.” I shrugged.

“And?”

“And…I guess that’s it.”

“I mean,” Sofia shoved her lipstick back into the makeup bag, and that into her backpack. “How are you not, you know, together? Have you seen him?”

Weird that a guy’s sister would be talking about how hot he was, but when something was as obvious as that, anyone could talk about it without looking like a freak.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged, trying to disguise the fact that my heart was beating a mile a minute. Was it that obvious to everyone else that he liked me, too? Why couldn’t I figure out how I felt about the guy? He’d done everything right, given me no reason to be suspicious of his intentions, but there was just…something. That extra something that kept me from grinning like an idiot when I heard he liked me, that made me want to dodge him in the hall instead of hoping I ran into him.

Sofia sighed. “I don’t know if there’s someone else you like, or what. But he’s seriously acting really strange. Different. Normally, he’d take a rejection, like you’ve apparently given him—”

“I…”

She waved her hand at me. “And start thinking about the next girl. But with you, he seems…,” she looked me up and down, “…determined. Anyway. Do you like him?”

She smiled at me, but she was putting me on the spot in a big way, and she definitely knew it.

Fake smile time. If I was ever going to perfect one, this was the time. I’d been so freaking worried about just getting through the school day after everything hit the fan at my old school, and I hadn’t even bothered here.

I tried then, though, forcing the corners of my mouth up and feeling the crinkle at the corner of my eyes. It felt foreign and weird and slightly uncomfortable, like a Band-Aid I was just waiting to pull off as soon as the bleeding stopped.

“Yeah, I do. He’s great.”

Sofia’s eyes flared the slightest bit in what looked like surprise. Then her lips curved up, too, and she leaned in to the mirror, daubing at her lip gloss.

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but most girls here would love to be in your position. And I’m sick of them asking me whether he’s available, whether he really likes you as much as he seems to, blah blah blah blah. I know it’s fun to lead guys on, but Ashley, seriously.” She picked up her bag from the counter and hoisted it onto her back. “Maybe throw him a bone?”

My mouth dropped open and I scrambled for something to say. But she headed for the door before I could, throwing over her shoulder, “See you at Mathletes, right?”

Ω

Lunch was there before I knew it. I remembered my Saturday promise to sit with Vincent, and my stomach twisted. When would I be able to tell what my own damn body cues meant? This could have just as easily been the stomach flu as nervous flutters.

I craned my neck, looking around for Vincent’s mop of curls, and after a few minutes of trying with no luck, gave myself permission to hide in my usual lunch table corner for as quick a lunch as possible. Something about the promise of ducking out of my forty-minute lunch in under ten, and grabbing half an hour to edit photos using Mansfield’s expensive editing software all by myself in the chilly hum of the computer lab, calmed the frantic beating of my heart.

Until a hand brushed the small of my back, and a whole different sensation took over my body. I turned to look Vincent right in the face.

“Hey, beautiful. We saved you a spot and,” he lifted his arm, which I now noticed held a lunch tray with two plates on it, “I grabbed you a slice of pizza. You do like pizza, right?”

I had to admit, I was charmed. This time, the grin was genuine. “I do.”

Vincent smiled and walked with me to the table as we chatted about our classes from that morning. “All these classes are so boring,” he complained.

Sofia grinned and snatched a French fry off his plate. “Are you complaining about classes again? Quit bragging, no one wants to hear it.”

“No one’s more bored in classes than Ashley, so she’ll understand,” Brendan said, smiling at me. “Good to see you here, Ash. Joining the land of the lunch living.”

He was right, I realized. I hadn’t eaten lunch in the cafeteria for weeks. It was just one more opportunity to see Sofia fawning over Brendan that I didn’t want. But now I realized the only thing that was worse. Seeing the same old Brendan looking at me the same old way, but not meaning it the way I’d always dreamed of.

Because, God, that look of familiarity, that Brendan who knew me and always accepted me no matter what, still made me feel weak in the knees. Nothing could change that. I didn’t think.

Except maybe the absolute worst thing—that that look didn’t make me feel safe and secure anymore. Now, it only made me feel sad. Gut-deep, heart-wrenchingly, might-need-to-go-home-and-weep-and-probably-up-my-meds-again sad.

“So I guess that means you already went through all these classes at your old school, too?” Vincent asked, handing me a napkin.

Brendan spoke up. “Nope. She’s just crazy smart. Picks it up at light speed and spends the rest of the class doing God knows what.”

“Brendan, please.” Still, I couldn’t help but smile.

“Composing the next great masterpiece in her head, that’s what,” he continued. “Sofia, have you seen Ashley’s photography?”

“You take pictures?” Sofia said, cocking her head to the side and giving a slightly sweeter version of the same smile she’d flashed me in the bathroom. “Are they good?”

“They’re amazing,” Brendan said. “She’s really—”

“Wow, you must have a really great camera.”

Nothing pissed me off more than when someone assumed my photography was amazing because my camera was. First of all, because that just wasn’t true. Ansel Adams could have shot with a cell-phone camera and still produced museum-worthy work. Second, because Brendan had given me that camera. And just because Brendan was responsible for my psychological well-being in this place did not mean that he was responsible for my mad photography skills, the ones that I’d busted my very own butt working on.

“She’s really good. I can’t believe I haven’t seen any of your new stuff, Ash.”

That was because, in the seven weeks since we’d been back in the same town, he hadn’t asked. “Oh, um…well, you did know about a few of the shots. That one we took on that foggy morning, and—”

“Hey!” Sofia interrupted, leaning forward on the table to show everyone, but especially Brendan, a shot of her cleavage. “B, tell Vincent what you were telling me. About Ashley.”

Brendan’s face lit up, and I bristled. Until he turned to me and said, “Yes. Ashley. Seventeen, next week. What do you want to do?”

Last year, Brendan had found out that I’d turned sixteen in the midst of the shittiness that was my life at Williamson and had been determined to celebrate, no matter how belated it was. I’d talked him into just a cake and movies in his living room with Julia, his mom and dad, and Kristin and Bruce, and the hand-me-down camera body as a present, but he had promised to do something more awesome this year. I’d forgotten all about it.

“Oh, same as last year,” I said, fumbling in my bag for nothing.

“No, no, no. You’re gonna be seventeen! Leaving sweet sixteen behind, that’s a big deal!” From her tone and the look on her face, I suspected Sofia could muster enthusiasm about dust bunnies if she thought it would get her somewhere. “I was thinking a party, for sure, and…”

“A party? No.” I looked up at the both of them firmly.

“But why not?” Vincent nudged his knee into mine and smiled. “Shit, Ashley, if anyone deserves it, it’s you. Plus you’ve been here forever and hardly hang out with anyone.”

I wanted to tell him that that was the way I liked it. That I was comfortable with just me and Brendan and my camera and not taking the risk of ever, ever going back to the way things were.

But then I remembered what he’d told me the night of Sadie. Let myself enjoy life. Teenagers enjoyed parties, and Sofia wanted to have one for me. I was a teenager, and Sofia was the most popular girl at school. Somehow. And Brendan would be there, and so would Vincent, who, I finally understood, actually just wanted to make me happy.

“I want to do it. I want to be in charge. It’ll be my gift to you,” Vincent said.

Oh hell, but his smile was gorgeous. I started digging in my bag more intensely now.

“Ashley doesn’t like big parties,” Brendan said. “She never wants to be the center of attention. It’s just not her thing.”

I looked up at him, ready to thank him, and immediately saw Sofia’s arm twined around his and her chin resting on his shoulder. And him not trying in the least to shrug her off. My mood changed in a flat second from super grateful at his willingness to rescue me to completely pissed off.

“Um. I…” I still really didn’t want a party, as much as I kind of wanted to shake whatever claim Brendan seemed to think he could make on my decisions like this. He was totally right—parties for me were not my thing at all. In fact, they were pretty much my worst nightmare. But who said that couldn’t change? I shrugged my shoulders and smiled at Vincent. “Let me think about it, okay?”

The silence for that split second as Brendan looked at me, shocked, buzzed with the tension.

Sofia broke it. Of course. “Well! We should go, huh? You said you’d introduce me to the Mathletes practice drills you East Coast kids use.” She flashed a grin at me and Vincent and shrugged. “What can I say? I’m clueless. I’m just happy he lets me try for the team.” She turned a simpering look on Brendan. “Even though I wish you’d try out for lacrosse. Those guys’ girlfriends have so much fun.” She hooked her arm in Brendan’s, pouting slightly, and I fought the overwhelming urge to dive across the table full of empty pop cans and half-eaten pizza and rip her face off.