‘Holly gets a cut from Thompson senior – she’s like … a tourist trap,’ Boyce explained.
My jaw hardened, but Rick laughed. ‘Man – seriously. We told you. Holly’s her own girl. She doesn’t do committed sappy shit. If you want a stand-in, how ’bout look around.’ I obeyed, glancing at the dozens of girls in bikinis, dancing around the fire, everyone drunk or stoned or getting there. More than one of them sent promising glances my way. ‘Put your new skills to use, man.’
Then I spotted Melody, perched on a tall rock. Alone. Clark stood twenty feet from her, cigarette in one hand and beer can in the other. Talking to a bunch of guys, his back was to her.
‘Oh, man – not there.’ Boyce groaned, but it was too late. I was already moving towards her.
When I climbed on to the rock, her lips fell apart. She glanced at her boyfriend, who wasn’t paying any attention, and I made a quick, discreet examination of her. Legs smooth and pale in the moonlight, they stretched out from her cuffed baby blue shorts, and she was wearing a skimpy little bikini top under her thin white tank. Her blonde hair hung down her back in a heavy braid, loose curls floating round her face. How Clark Richards could ignore her was a mystery to me.
I sat next to her, and we watched and listened to the goings-on just below.
‘You looked kinda bored up here,’ I said finally. ‘Wanna go for a walk?’
Her eyes swept over Clark, who remained with his back to her. She nodded. ‘Okay.’
I took her hand to help her down, and she let go once she hit the sand. I checked over my shoulder, but no one followed. We walked down the beach, and it didn’t take long before we could no longer hear the party. Strolling past my house, we ended up in front of hers. She walked to the side yard, where there was a weathered wooden structure I’d never noticed.
‘Cool fort.’
She turned a latch and tugged the rope handle on the drawbridge, and we went inside. There was a ladder to a platform that sat even with the top of my head, but no roof. ‘Evan and I used to play cowboys and Indians with neighbour kids, or hero dragon fighter and imprisoned princess.’ She climbed up, and I followed.
‘Who was the dragon?’
She smirked and sat, tucking wisps of hair behind her ears and pulling her knees to her chest. ‘The dragon was imaginary. Sometimes I wanted to be the dragon, though. Or the hero. But Evan wouldn’t let me.’
I lowered myself near her and lay back, hands behind my head. ‘That seems mean. I don’t have a sister, so I don’t know how that works. But if you wanted to be a dragon, you should have got to be a dragon.’ I thought of Carlie Heller, who at ten would make a kickass dragon, and who would have booted her twelve-year-old brother – literally – right off a castle wall, were he to suggest that she play a princess. Unless the princess wielded a sword.
Melody looked up at the stars. ‘Yeah, well. Evan was always basically a Dad clone, even when we were little. They get their way. Every time.’ She paused, sighing, and I wanted to pull my fingers through her hair and loosen her braid. Guide her mouth to mine and kiss her and make her forget the condescending guy who treated her like crap. ‘My mom is like this really strong woman to everyone but Daddy,’ she said then. ‘She says that’s what marriage is supposed to be. It’s give and take, but if there’s a real disagreement, the husband makes the decision.’
I thought about my parents and their relationship. My dad had never been expressive, but he’d been completely devoted to my mother. She could have asked for anything and he’d have given it to her, or tried to. Whatever you want, Rose. How many times in thirteen and a half years had I heard that?
He knows I’ll never ask him for anything that would hurt him, because I love him, Mom told me once. I trust him the same way, because I know he loves me, too.
‘Or the older brother?’ I asked Melody, who lay back beside me.
‘Or the older brother,’ she conceded. ‘Or the dad.’
I could see how Clark Richards fitted into this picture more clearly than I had before. ‘In other words, the man.’
She shrugged, watching me. ‘I guess.’
I frowned and peered at her. My mother was the most giving person I’d ever known, but she wouldn’t have tolerated someone making decisions for her, just because he was her husband. Or boyfriend. ‘That doesn’t seem right to me.’
She smiled. ‘Maybe not. But it doesn’t matter now. I don’t have to be anyone’s princess if I don’t want to. You can ask my mom – I’m definitely a fire-breathing dragon if I don’t get something I want.’
She didn’t even see it. She was her boyfriend’s captive princess. She would never be the dragon or the hero in his story. Those roles were already filled.
LUCAS
As expected, Jacqueline emailed and requested extra help with catching up. She thanked me for translating Dr Heller’s instructions, which could be unintelligible. His grad students could follow him, but he often lost a few of the undergrads. That’s why he had me.
I corrected her assumption that I was an economics major, attached several of the worksheets I’d created for the sessions she couldn’t attend, and ended with asking how her orchestra students had done at regionals. Then I added: btw, your ex is obviously a moron, and pressed send.
What the hell did I mean by doing that? It was beyond out of line to say that about any student – in an email, no less – to another student. Regardless if it was true.
I breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t refer to that impropriety in her reply, though she seemed to believe that helping her was a nuisance for me. I wanted to convince her of the wrongness of that impression. It had been a long time since I felt the sort of breath-stalling anticipation I experienced waiting for her name to appear in my inbox or the sight of her in class. She was the opposite of a nuisance, infiltrating my dreams and stealing into my waking desires.
She told me about her two freshmen students, who’d each cornered her privately to ask which one was her favourite. I laughed out loud at her answer to both of them – You are, of course – and her question to me – Was that wrong??
When I returned the worksheets, pointing out her minor mistakes, I confessed that a bass-playing college girl would have rendered me speechless at fourteen. I closed my eyes and imagined her as she was now, alongside the quiet disaster I’d been at fourteen, needing someone to just see me. I’d have fallen for her immediately, and hard.
And in case you’re wondering – yes, you’re my favourite, I added to the end of that message.
Totally inappropriate flirting, but I didn’t care. I wanted Landon to win her over, so that when she found out who I was, she would forgive me for being part of that night.