After the song finished, he pulled me out to the hallway, where Delilah, Patel, three other boys, and an older girl joined us. One of the guys, who introduced himself as Daniels, flashed us a bottle of what he said was vodka from under his suit jacket.
“Shall we relocate the festivities?” he said, wiggling his eyebrows and putting his arm around the girl, who was called Ashleigh.
The boys all had rooms upstairs, and we congregated in the living area of Mason and Patel’s suite. Daniels sat in an armchair with Ashleigh on his lap, Delilah and Patel took the sofa, and the two guys sat on the floor, leaving a chair for Mason and me. I perched on the side, but Mason pulled me onto his lap and put an arm around me, resting it on my hip. Daniels passed each of us a glass of vodka and ice. It smelled like nail polish remover and burned my lips even before I took a tiny sip.
“Don’t drink it if you don’t like it,” Mason whispered in my ear so no one could hear, and I smiled gratefully at him, then poured mine into his glass. “Works for me.” He smiled back. His thumb moved back and forth on my hip while the group talked about his new car and hockey season. It was pretty tame, considering we were a group of unsupervised teens with a bottle of alcohol, and I noticed that, other than Daniels, who was kneading Ashleigh’s butt like pizza dough, no one had a refill. By eleven, the others left for their rooms, and Delilah and I stood to get our coats on.
“Before you leave, Percy, there’s something I want to show you,” Mason said, running his hands through his hair and sounding a little nervous.
“Yeah, I bet,” Patel muttered, and Delilah whacked him in the arm.
Mason led me down a short hall to a sleek-looking bedroom, all taupes and browns, with a king-sized bed and suede headboard. He closed the door behind us and slid the closet open, knelt down, and punched a number into a small safe. When he stood, he was holding a little turquoise box.
“What’s this?” I asked. “It’s not my birthday.”
“I know,” he said, moving closer. “I was going to save it for your sixteenth, but I couldn’t wait. Open it.” His eyes moved expectantly over my face. I lifted off the lid to find a turquoise velvet pouch. Inside was a silver bracelet with a chunky, modern clasp.
“I was thinking you might want to be my girlfriend,” he said and smiled, “and that maybe you needed something a little more special than this.” He held up the arm that wore my friendship bracelet. I had not seen this coming.
“It’s gorgeous . . . um . . . wow! I’m not sure what to say!” I stammered. Mason fastened the bracelet around my wrist.
“You can think about it, but I want you to know that I really like you.” He put his hands on my hips and pulled me toward him, then brought his lips down onto mine. They were soft as he moved them gently over my mouth. He pulled back enough to look into my eyes and said, “You’re so smart and funny and so beautiful and you don’t even know it.” He kissed me again, harder this time, and I closed my eyes. Images of Sam flashed through my mind, and when Mason ran his tongue over the seam of my lips, my knees felt as though they might buckle, and I grasped his biceps. He placed a string of light kisses on the corner of my mouth, then my nose, and then back on my mouth, and ran his tongue over my lips again. This time I opened to him, and I imagined it was Sam’s tongue swirling with my own. Mason groaned and moved his hands down to my backside, pressing himself against my hip. I pulled away.
“I should go; we’ll be late back to Delilah’s.”
Mason didn’t protest, just ran his hands up my back and gave me another quick kiss, then took my hand in his.
Next to my embroidered bracelet, the silver one looked garish, and I took it off before Mom picked me up the next morning so she wouldn’t ask questions. Delilah was surprised by the gift, which she called “excessive,” but she didn’t think it meant that Mason wanted to make things more official.
“Of course he likes you, Percy. You’re a catch. And your tits have really come in this year,” she said in a stage whisper. “Keep things light with Mason. I can tell you don’t like him the way you like your Summer Boy, but maybe you can just think of it as practice if Sam ever comes around.”
I emailed Sam as soon I got home.
Hi Sam,
I’ve been thinking about my new story more. What do you think about a lake that’s haunted by a young girl who fell through the ice in the winter, leaving her twin sister behind? When the sister is a teenager, she comes back to the lake on a camping trip and she sees a strange figure in the woods, which will turn out to be her dead twin who’s trying to kill her so she won’t be alone. It could be scary and maybe a little sad. Thoughts?
Also: Delilah and I went to Mason’s birthday party last night, and he asked me to be his girlfriend. I know you won’t be surprised since you guessed that at New Year’s, but I was. What do you think I should do?
Percy
Percy,
I still think a lake full of zombie fish is the way to go. Just kidding. Creepy dead girl is definitely the best idea yet. Are you going to give the sisters obnoxious twin names, like Lilah and Layla, or Jessica and Bessica?
I asked you this before, but I think it’s time to ask again: Do you like Buckley?
Sam
Sam,
Why hadn’t I thought of Jessica and Bessica before? Genius!!!
Mason’s actually a nice guy, but I like someone else more.
Percy
Percy,
I think you have your answer.
Sam
9
Now
We sit in the truck staring at THE Floreks’ house. Or at least I stare at the house. Sam is watching me.
“It looks amazing,” I say. And it does. The lawns are green and mowed, the flower beds are blooming and tidy, and the siding and trim on the house are freshly painted. The basketball net still hangs on the garage. There are terra-cotta pots of happy red geraniums on the porch—Sam probably planted them himself. The thought makes me squishy.
“Thanks,” Sam says. “I’ve been trying to keep it up. Mom would hate to see her gardens taken over by weeds.” He pauses, then adds, “But it’s also been a good distraction from everything.”
“How have you been managing all this on top of the restaurant and work?” I ask, turning to face him and waving my hand at the house. “It’s a huge property for one person to maintain.” God, how did Sue do it? And raise two kids and run the Tavern?
Sam runs a hand over his smooth cheek. Shaving only made his cheekbones more prominent, his jaw more angled. “I guess I don’t sleep much,” he says. “Don’t look so horrified. I got used to staying up for long stretches when I was a resident. Anyway, I’m grateful I’ve had something to do. I would have gone crazy sitting around the past year.”
Guilt curls around my heart. I hate that he did this alone. Without me.
“Does Charlie help much?”
“Nah. He offered to come back, but he’s busy in Toronto.” I cock my head, not following. “He works in finance, on Bay Street,” Sam explains. “He was up for a big promotion—I told him to stay in the city.”
“I had no idea,” I murmur. “I guess his boss has better luck getting him to wear a shirt than your mom did.”
Sam chuckles. “Pretty sure he wears a suit and everything.”
I clear my throat and ask the question I’ve been wondering all morning, “And Taylor? She lives in Kingston?”
“Yeah, her firm is there. She’s not exactly a Barry’s Bay girl.”
“Didn’t notice,” I mutter, looking out the window. I can see Sam smile from the corner of my eye before he gets out of the truck and walks around to my side. Opening the door, he offers me a hand to hop down.
“I know how to get out of a truck, you know?” I say, taking his hand anyway.