Paula Stokes - The Art of Lainey

Jay looks over at me, brushes a lock of hair back from my face. “Nothing happened to her.”

“Do you know she was seeing someone else?” I ask. “I saw her not too long ago with this guy at a restaurant.” Almost the truth.

Jason sighs. “I think she was seeing lots of guys. Who cares? We were never really together.”

So much for the use of spies. So much for the right moment. “She’s just some girl that you screwed for sport?”

“Basically,” he admits. “We started talking during one of my first ride-alongs about how she and her boyfriend had broken up because he wanted to get engaged and she wasn’t ready. She said she needed more time to play and have fun.”

“How fortunate for her that you came along,” I say bitterly.

He sits up. “I hate that I hurt you, Lainey. I thought about my parents having kids so young and my mom being a royal bitch to my dad and it all made sense, you know? Keeping things casual.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I got scared and I messed up. I guess I just needed to escape from my life.”

I push myself up off the bed and pace back and forth. “Oh, like a little vacation.” I rake my fingers through the feathers of my skirt. One of them flutters to the thick carpet. “I didn’t realize being with me was such a job.”

“You know, a lot of guys would have just cheated on you,” he says. “Don’t I at least get points for not doing that?”

My eyes turn to slits. “You dumped me at my parents’ coffee shop, in front of everyone. No, you don’t get points.”

Jason sighs again. “You’re right. I’m an ass. I felt like if I didn’t end it, it was only a matter of time before I would cheat on you. I didn’t want to be that guy so I just snapped. I was selfish. I was stupid. But I’m trying to tell you I’m sorry. I want you back.”

Like the rest of the Chase clan, Jason isn’t used to apologizing. I know this is hard from him, that he wouldn’t be saying all of this to me if he didn’t really care about me. But it pisses me off that he thinks he can just invite me to a party and I’ll come running back to him. “What about the next time you need a vacation? What then?”

“There won’t be a next time, I promise.”

“How can you promise something like that?” I whisper.

“Because look at us. I got scared and pushed you away and we ended up right where we started. We belong together. Could it be more obvious?”

We belong together. For so long I believed those words. All I wanted was to hear that Jason felt the same way. And now he’s saying all the right things but he’s acting like the randomness of the universe reunited us. No. Not true. I waged a freaking ancient Chinese war to get him back.

And it worked.

And I should feel vindicated. Triumphant.

But I don’t.

Because something is different.

Something is missing.

“Why?” I ask. “Why do you think we belong together?”

Jason’s lips quirk into a smile. He thinks he’s got me. He has no idea that I am empty, a hollow girl in feathers, preparing to fly away.

“You know.” His grin deepens. “We’re both hot. We’re both cool. The whole soccer thing—we hang with the same crowd of peeps.” He winks. “We have chemistry.”

“Seriously? That’s enough for you? Isn’t that a little . . . shallow?”

“It is what it is,” he says. “So we’re shallow. So what? It’s not like I’m only into your looks. You’re fun to be around. I want to spend senior year with you. You and my sister. The three of us could get up to all kinds of craziness.”

“Yeah, “I say. “I wanted that too. But now I want more.”

“What? Like a promise ring?” Jason’s shoulders slump slightly as he realizes that I’m pulling away. “We’re too young for that shit.”

I shake my head. “It’s not about rings or promises. It’s about . . . something that actually matters.”

“I don’t get it.” He rubs his eyes.

“I know you don’t.” I bend down and give him a kiss on the cheek. “And that’s why I can’t do this right now. I’m going to take off.”

His jaw tightens. “Fine. Go think about it if you have to. You’ll be back. I know you will.”

That’s probably the exact same thing his mom said to him when he moved out of this house. Here’s hoping they’re both wrong.

Wordlessly, I head for the bedroom door. I hurry back downstairs even though I know Jason is not going to come after me. Chases do not follow or beg. Excessive pride is coded into their DNA.

The party is still in full swing. I twist my way between the hordes of sweaty, dancing bodies. Someone knocks into me from behind, spilling what feels like half a beer down the back of me. Super. The perfect end to a perfect night. I think I hear Kendall calling my name as I make it to the front door, but I don’t turn back. The night wind streams my hair out behind me as I head down the block to where I parked. I slide into the car, punch the door lock, and sit there for a few moments, waiting for tears that never fall.

I need to talk to someone, and that someone is Bianca. I peel into the Denali parking lot, practically bringing the car up onto two wheels as I turn the corner.

As I hurry across the pavement, I adjust the overlapping straps on my shoulders, trying to cover up my bra. Plunging through the front door, I expect to see Bee’s kind eyes looking back at me from behind the counter.

But it’s Ebony.

“Nice dress, Lainey.” She rolls her tongue ring across her lower lip. “How are things on the corner?”

“Where’s Bee?” I ask, skipping past a smart-ass comment about how I almost didn’t recognize Ebony without her ass glued to her usual booth.

“She called in.”

There’s some kind of Tibetan chanting playing over the loudspeakers instead of the usual pop music. That means my dad is here. Crap. I didn’t even see his car in the parking lot. I need to leave before he smells the beer soaking into the back of my dress and grounds me for a million years.

Too late. He appears from the prep area, probably because he heard my voice. I step back a couple of feet and do another quick rearrangement of my straps and hem, trying to make sure everything is covered. Two teal feathers fall to the hardwood floor.

Leaning on the counter, he peers at me over the tops of his glasses. “Post-traumatic dress disorder?”

“Funny, Dad.” I say. “What’s wrong with Bianca?”

“Not sure. She’s sick. She said something about maybe eating some bad chili.”“Oh.” I back slowly toward the door. “I just wanted to talk to her. I guess I’ll catch up with her tomorrow.”

My dad slips his glasses off and polishes them on his shirt. “Did you go to the fireworks?”

“Nah. I went to a party at Kendall’s.”

“Ah,” he says, slipping his glasses back on. “So she’s back in town? Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow if you’re asleep before I get home.”

“Yeah, she’s back. Sure, Dad.”

I escape into the warm air and make it halfway across the dusty parking lot before I notice the Beast parked next to my car. What’s Micah doing here? He’s supposed to be at the Bottlegrate concert.

Instead, he’s leaning up against my car smoking a cigarette. “Back from Jason’s already?” he asks. “It’s not even eleven. Must have been a lame party.”

“Sort of lame.” I point at his lit cigarette. “Thought you were going to quit.”

“Still trying,” he says. “Maybe by the end of summer. I’ll put it out if you want.”

“It’s okay.” A warm breeze cuts across the parking lot, ruffling the feathers of my skirt. “How was the concert?”

“Awesome.” He inhales deeply and exhales over his shoulder.

“And the fireworks?”

“Very cool.”

“Did you end up meeting Amber?” I’m not sure I want to know, but it would be weird not to ask.

“Yeah, we ended up going together,” he says.

“So then why are you here?”

He blows another cloud of smoke away from me. “Because it’s the only place around where I can get decent food this late?” He gestures toward the front door with his head. “You hungry?”

I’m about as far from hungry as a person can get. “No thanks. I was looking for Bee, but apparently she called in sick, so—”

Micah’s eyes go dark with worry. “Is she okay?”

“Food poisoning, but it doesn’t sound serious.” One of my hairs sticks to my lip gloss. I can feel it tickling my mouth as I talk.

Micah dislodges the offending hair with a quick swipe of his index finger, and then looks me over slowly.

“What are you staring at?” I try not to fidget. The wind tugs another feather loose from my skirt. At this rate I’ll be half naked by the time I get home.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I cross my arms over my chest. “Yeah, why?”

“Well, for one, you reek of booze. Are you sure you should be driving?”

I feel the back of my dress. It’s still damp. “Some idiot spilled a beer on me. I haven’t had a sip all night.”

“Interesting.” Micah rubs at the scar on his temple. Behind him, a flash of gold punctures the dark sky, followed by a sharp popping sound. Fireworks. He turns around to look. “What else happened?”

“What do you mean?” Another burst of light—this one colored. Someone who lives nearby must be putting on quite a show for their neighborhood.

“You seem upset.”

“Upset how?” I watch the falling embers of the fireworks dissolve into the night.