My Sweet Escape by Chelsea M. Cameron
He stepped away from me, but I grabbed his shirt to make him stop. Jesus, he was cut under there.
Not the point, Jos.
“Jos, come on. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Why are you lying to me?” It was hard to keep my voice down so everyone in the living room didn’t hear. I didn’t want to make a scene.
“I’m not lying to you, Jos.” He tried to pull away, but I grabbed his shirt with my other hand. Either I overestimated my strength, or he added some force and ended up slamming up against the counter and he crashed into me, trapping my arms between us. It didn’t hurt; I was shocked more than anything else.
“What the hell!” I said, finding his face only inches from mine. He exhaled and all I could think was that he was going to kiss me and how much my lips were begging him to. No, no way. I pushed against his chest and it was like something in him snapped and he leaped away from me like I was a leper.
He wiped his mouth as if he had kissed me and his face was horrified.
“What just happened?” I said, using the counter to hold myself up. Dusty let out a sound that was a bit like an explosion and, somehow, very apropos.
“I’m going to take my soda and go back to homework. Yeah, that’s what I’m going to do.” Without looking back at me, he grabbed his Coke and practically ran back to the living room, where I heard him talking with Hunter.
I picked up my tea with a shaking hand and sipped it, because I didn’t think I could go back to the living room right now. I stayed in the kitchen and savored my tea. And by savored I mean I drank about three drops with every sip so it would last. It was only a matter of time before someone disturbed me trying to get myself together and it turned out to be Hunter.
“What are you doing?”
“Just...thinking.” If anyone asked, I was going to say I was lost in thought about...something. I’d been too busy replaying the moment with Dusty to think of a more valid excuse.
“It looks painful. Whatever you’re thinking about.” He grabbed a bottle of Gatorade and a can of cranberry-lime seltzer water for Taylor. Oh, it had been anything but painful, unless you counted a cannon of butterflies being fired repeatedly inside my stomach and feeling like every nerve ending in my body was on fire as painful.
“Just got a lot...on my mind.” He looked at me like I’d grown an extra head.
“Okay, then. You coming back to study?” Well, I had to, didn’t I? Or else they would know something was wrong and then they’d all vote on who would be the one to come and talk to me about it. I’d figured out their system.
“Be right there.” I downed the rest of my tea in one gulp. It didn’t feel as badass as I’d imagined it would. I set my cup in the sink and walked back into the living room and took my place on the floor next to Hannah. She gave me a questioning look, but I shook my head and picked up my phone.
Tell you later.
I typed out the message and hit Send, hoping that her text alert wasn’t too loud. She usually had her phone off during the day when we were at class, so I couldn’t remember if I’d ever heard it go off.
When I heard what sounded like a Chinese gong at an insanely loud volume, I nearly choked on my heart, because it had jumped into my mouth. Exclamations of surprise, some more colorful than others, came from everyone else.
“Sorry! Sorry! The volume on this phone is all wonky. I’ll just turn it off.” She read my message and typed out a quick response and then turned her phone off as everyone tried to focus back in on what they were doing.
Make it good.
I shook my head at her answer and she started wiggling her eyebrows again and I debated about telling her at all, but she was really the only one I had to talk to.
Chapter 15
Hannah made some vague excuse about accidentally leaving her earrings that she’d bought at the mall in one of my bags, so we had to go back down to my room and “search” for them. As soon as she shut the door to the upstairs, she turned on me.
“Oh, my God, I’ve been dying up there! I could barely concentrate. Did he kiss you? Was it good? Did he cop a feel? Did you do it in the kitchen?”
I had to put both hands on her shoulders to stop her from continuing. Where did she get these ideas?
“No, no, no and NO. Do you seriously think we would be able to have sex in the kitchen without someone either hearing or walking in? And do you really think I’m that kind of girl? Seriously?”
She thought about that for a second.
“Well, no, but I had hope.”
I let go of her shoulders and walked down the rest of the stairs and sat on the huge couch.
“Sometimes I wonder how your mind works and then I realize that I really don’t want to know.” She dragged her feet and sat down next to me.
“So what did happen?”
I pulled my legs up and folded them under me.
“That’s what I’m still trying to figure out. We were talking and then he said something about his childhood being rough and then he touched my hair—”
“That means he loves you,” Hannah said, nodding as if it was a scientific fact.
“How do you know that?”
She waved her hand.
“It’s been proven, like, over and over again. So yeah, he touched your hair and...”
I got back on track. “He touched my hair and we were talking and then I said something and he tried to brush me aside, so I grabbed his shirt and he just...he dived at me and pushed me against the counter and I thought he was going to kiss me and then he freaked out and went back into the living room. The end.” Hannah’s eyes were wide, and she’d hung on every word as if I was sharing some naughty secret tryst rather than...well, pretty much nothing. It sounded, like, so minor when I said it out loud. It had felt anything but minor at the time.
“How many times do I have to tell you that he wants you? Dude, it sucks that we were all here or else you two might be mopping the kitchen floor together right now.” I hadn’t yet told Hannah about my still-present virginity, but this didn’t seem like a good time to bring it up, even though she’d all but admitted to me that she was, too. The way she talked led me to believe that she’d at least done more than I had, even if she hadn’t done the deed.
“I’m not going to dignify that with a response. So have you ‘found your earrings’ yet?” I got up to get ready for bed. I was tired and I had a lot to think about in the hours it would take me to actually fall asleep.
Hannah pouted but got up.
“Fine. But you’re no fun.”
“Why don’t you find your own guy? What about Brett?” I’d never met the kid, but he was the first guy she’d even mentioned, so that had to count for something. Hannah made a frustrated sound.
“I told you—it’s ancient history.”
“History has a way of repeating itself.” I was big on being the devil’s advocate tonight.
“Whatever, girl. You’ve got much more going on than I do, since I’ve got nothing going on.”
I walked her up the stairs and said goodbye before I went back to pick up the rest of my books from the living room. Hunter was the only one still up and he was rubbing his eyes and blinking them over and over.
“Where’s Dusty?”
“Oh, he had to go. Said to tell you good-night.” Why did I feel like something more had gone on while I was downstairs with Hannah? I stared at Hunter, but I knew that he was a good liar, at least about stuff like this.
“Did he say anything about me?” The words were out before I could grab them and shove them back in my mouth and pretend they hadn’t happened.
“Like what?” Play it cool.
“Oh, I don’t know. He was just being weird in the kitchen.” Hunter looked genuinely confused.
“Weird, how?”
“He didn’t say anything to you?” He shook his head and he looked a little concerned.
“Do you need to talk to me about something?”
I shook my head quickly. “No, no. He just made a joke, and I took it the wrong way. It’s fine. No big deal, seriously. I swear. Cross my heart.” I smiled and held my books to my chest.
“Okay. If you’re sure.”
“Yeah, no big. Good night.”
“Night.”
I hoped Hunter bought my semiterrible explanation and didn’t ask Dusty, because clearly Dusty hadn’t said anything to Hunter about what had happened in the kitchen. Maybe it was because everyone was around. Jesus H. Christ, why was this so confusing?
* * *
Dusty wasn’t around the next day, or the next, and I knew it had everything to do with me. I tried to ask where he was without acting like I cared too much about it, because I didn’t want anyone to be suspicious. Hunter just said that he’d picked up some extra hours at Bull Moose. We were still all going to the party on Saturday, and I decided that I needed to talk to him and know what the hell was up, because I couldn’t take the suspense. Also, Hannah had been driving me so crazy I kind of wanted to kill her, or talk to him just so I could shut her up.
Despite being so distracted about Dusty, I did manage to at least make a good impression on Brett at the interview on Friday. The offices were on the first floor of the Union, and I’d walked by and peeked in a few times since the door was made of glass. I’d always been kind of fascinated by it, if I was being honest.
Brett had asked me to bring in some more writing samples, and he went over them with me, explaining how an article should be written in something called “inverted pyramid style.” It was all a little confusing, but he gave me a handout on it and some articles to read online. By the end of the hour, he had given me a desk and filled out paperwork to put me on the payroll. I was still giddy when I got home, but I didn’t say anything to anyone, except Hannah, of course. My first day would be next Tuesday, since they had production nights on Wednesdays and Sundays. It was good I had the Dusty thing to worry about already, so the new-job thing was pushed aside.
Dusty and I still hadn’t exchanged numbers, so I had to do some stealthy eavesdropping to find out when exactly he’d be at work so I could talk to him, and I found my perfect opportunity on Saturday.
I walked in hesitantly. I had the whole thing planned out. I was looking for Christina Perri, Muse and The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. I had a script and everything. It wasn’t John Hughes material, but I thought it was pretty good.
I walked into the store and went right for the Christina Perri, since it was easiest to find in the Pop section. I’d been back a few times since the first time, and the employees had continued to leave me alone.
“Welcome to Bull Moose. How may I be of assistance?” It was much better to just sort of expect him to always be lurking behind me. Like a tall shadow. With great abs and a killer smile.
“Well, I was, like, looking for some cool music. Because all the music I thought was cool is cool now, and I like things before they’re cool, so those things aren’t cool anymore. I need something that is precool.” I pretended to toss my hair.
He laughed as if he was surprised.
“What?” I said, dropping the annoying voice I’d been using and going back to my normal one.
“Nothing. I wasn’t expecting you to come here anymore.”
I played dumb. “Why not?”
“Well, after...” He cleared his throat. Huh. This must be Dusty when he was nervous. It was kind of adorable. I gave myself a mental slap. Get your head in the game, Jos.
“Nothing, nothing,” he said, shaking his head and chuckling. “Is there anything I can help you with, Red?”
I struggled to remember the script. I wished I had one of those people who stood in the wings of the theater and I could just yell “line!” and they’d feed it to me.
“Actually, I did come to talk to you about that. Should we maybe go somewhere else?” The other employees had definitely stopped what they were doing, and I could hear them all listening to us. I wondered what else Dusty had told them about me. Did I really want to know? Probably not.
“Sure. Come on.” He nodded to one of the guys at the register and pointed to the door that said Employees Only. The guy nodded back, and Dusty opened the door for me.
It was what looked like a break room with a huge folding table, some mismatched lawn chairs, a fridge, microwave and coffeepot. Dusty cleared a bag of half-eaten chips out of the way and pulled a chair out for me. I wondered if he was conscious of stuff like that, or if he just did it without thinking. If he was trying to impress me or if it was just a reflex he had when a woman was in his presence. I kind of hoped it was the first.
“Okay, so you haven’t been back at the house and I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t because of me,” I said in a rush. In my script, I had said the lines perfectly. I guess I should have rehearsed more.
He turned a chair backward and slouched on it. Too cool for school, that boy.
“Why would it be because of you?” He had a smile on his face, but I was beginning to learn the many smiles of Dusty Sharp, and this one said that he was putting on an act. The smile was just a little too wide, his eyes just a little too bright. Ha, caught in the act. It was time for my next line.
“Um, because maybe I called you out on the fact that you never give me a straight answer about anything and then...you almost...” Ugh, the words wouldn’t come out, even though I’d said them over and over. Stupid words, being so hard to say.
“We almost what? Because from where I was standing, you were the one who grabbed me.”
Oh, that’s how he wanted to play it?
“As I remember it, I was trying to stop you from leaving and you, well, you...threw yourself against me.”
“I was caught off balance and I underestimated your strength.” Yeah, and I was the secret love child of Paul, George, Ringo and John.
“Really? That’s what you’re going with?” I said, giving him a look.
He looked down and his smile faltered.
“It sounded much better in my head.” Story of my life.
“We should be able to talk about this. We’re both rational adults. This doesn’t have to be a big deal.” Yup, I was officially off book.
He looked up and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what I’d just said. “Oh, Red. It’s been a big deal for a long time.”
“H-how long?” I leaned forward in my chair without meaning to, and he leaned over the back of his so our faces were close and at the same level.
“Long, long. Since that first time I saw you messing with the vending machine. I almost didn’t want you to turn around, and then you did. I’d heard about you, but I had no idea you were...you. Shit, I’m really screwing this up.”
“It’s okay. I’m not really good at the whole talking thing, either.”
“I guess that makes two of us.”
He leaned, and I leaned and we leaned and my head was spinning and I was afraid I was going to go off balance, but I was falling just as much into his eyes....
The door opened and a surprised voice invaded our space. “Whoa, sorry, man. Just came in to get a soda, but I’ll get one later. Sorry.” I didn’t even turn to see the guy. My eyeballs were otherwise occupied.
Dusty and I were frozen, with those last few inches of air between us. How was it that air, so insubstantial most of the time, could suddenly be so...substantial?
“I don’t know what I’m doing here, Red. You are a complication that took me completely by surprise.” His breath moved across the space between us.
“Ditto,” I said, and he closed his eyes, but that didn’t break the spell.
<
“Do what?” I didn’t even know what he was suggesting. We weren’t even friends. Did he mean kissing?
He made a frustrated sound and threw himself to his feet, as if it took every ounce of strength he had, which was considerable, and went to the farthest corner of the room.
“A year ago, I would have kissed you in the kitchen. Hell, I would have kissed you the second you first looked at me. But I’m not that guy anymore. The guy who takes what he wants and doesn’t give a shit who it hurts. I would have taken you and broken you, and I can’t do that. I can’t do that to you. So I’m saying we can’t do this. The answer is no.”
I was confused by so much of what he said it took a moment for me to even formulate my first of many questions.
“What do you mean, a year ago? What happened?” I hoped his candor would be more than a onetime thing. I knew so little about him and I wanted to know more. He was such an enigma.
“I lost someone that I loved, and it put things in perspective.”
“I lost someone, too,” I said. It was the first time I’d really said it out loud. “That’s why I changed. Because the things that used to matter didn’t anymore. I spent my whole life worrying about the wrong things, like grades and getting ahead. So I stopped worrying about that and tried to focus on the things that mattered.”
“Like what?” Our eyes finally met again.
“Well, I screwed it up a lot at first. That’s why my parents sent me here. I was partying and skipping class. I thought living for the day meant doing whatever I wanted and worrying about the consequences tomorrow. Or never.” I laughed a little. “And then I realized it wasn’t about that. It was about finding something you were passionate about.”
“What are you passionate about?”
I pointed to the store behind us.