My Sweet Escape by Chelsea M. Cameron
Time for Oscar-worthy acting performance number two.
“I did because it’s true.” My lines sounded like something out of a bad play. A really bad one. Like, not even community-theater caliber. More like a crappy high school production that the kids had been forced to participate in for an English grade.
“Joscelyn.” I shivered as he said it.
“What? It’s true. I am putting you firmly in the friend zone, where you belong. I got carried away, and when I sat down and thought about it, I decided that it wasn’t something I wanted. With you. I have a lot going on right now, and I don’t think this is the wisest choice. You know, even if I wanted it.” I could see the reviews now. Joscelyn Archer is the worst thing to happen to theater since Cats!...I got up and walked out and demanded a refund...This girl has no talent and will never act in this town again.
I peered at Dusty out of the corner of my eye. I couldn’t make eye contact with him directly, because I would have blinked too much, or given some other sign that I was lying.
He was silent for a second, watching me.
“You have got to be shitting me. Do you honestly think I would believe that? If so, then you must think I’m pretty fucking stupid.”
No, I didn’t think he was stupid. He was too smart for his own good.
The smile on his face this time was one of confused bewilderment. It was too adorable.
I went with the truth.
“I don’t think you’re stupid.”
“So why are you doing this to me? You kissed me not that long ago, and that kiss is sort of the opposite of what you’re telling me right now, and I’m thinking if I kissed you again right now I’d get the same reaction as before. Your voice is saying one thing and your lips and your body are saying another. Do I have that right?”
Well, yeah. He did.
“Dusty.”
“No, Red. I wanna hear this. Tell me why we can’t be together.” He sat back as if he was waiting for me to put on an encore performance. I was kind of at the end of my rope.
“Why do you have to make this so hard on me? If you were just...a jerk or you smelled bad or you didn’t say nice things it would be so much easier.” I got up from the couch and went to the recliner so I could have some distance from him. Also to get away from his smell.
“Maybe it’s hard because you’re attracted to me. And you don’t put people you’re attracted to in the friend zone.”
“Some people do.” I was certain that, at some point in history, someone, somewhere, had put someone they were attracted to in the friend zone for one reason or another. There had to be a precedent.
“Okay, I’m going to talk now, and you can listen to what I’m going to say and tell me if I’m on the right track or not. Okay?” he said.
“Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Proceed,” I said, waving my hand.
“We were going along just fine a few days ago. If you remember, you were the one who wanted to take this to the next level, correct?”
I nodded.
“I kissed you, you kissed me back, things got a little intense. We both wanted it. Correct?”
I nodded again.
“And then, for reasons unknown to me, you freaked out and left my house, and now you are trying to come up with anything you can possibly come up with to get me to go away, even though you still want to be with me, based on the kiss. Correct?”
“That’s not exactly—” He cut me off.
“Yes or no?”
I glared at him.
“Yes.”
“So what I need to do is find out what occurred to make you change your mind. If my memory serves, you went into my bedroom to get Napoleon and decided to snoop around—”
I tried again to interrupt him, but he held his hand up.
“Just let me finish and then you can comment. So, you were in my room and picked up a picture of me and my brother and dropped it. I came in to find you looking like you were scared for your life, and then you shoved my cat at me and ran out the door without your shoes on. Correct?”
I had to swallow a few times before my voice would work.
“C-correct.”
“So it seems, from my view of the events, that the moment when you decided was when you saw and then dropped the picture. So. What was it about that picture that caused you to drop it in the first place? What could a picture of me and my brother do to freak you out that much? Let’s look at this in depth, shall we? You have seen me. You have kissed me. You know what I look like.” At this point, I felt like I was on the witness stand in one of those cop dramas, and he was the hard-ass lawyer cross-examining me about what happened the night of June 14. He would make a great lawyer.
“So it couldn’t have been me that led you to freak out, and the only other one in the picture is my brother.”
I was beyond stupid to think that he wouldn’t figure this out after my freak-out from seeing the picture. I shouldn’t have left. I should have pretended that I’d gotten an emergency phone call. Hell, I should have told him I was a virgin. That might have done it. In fact...
“I’m a virgin,” I blurted out. It was better him knowing that than finding out the truth. Embarrassment would trump the hatred he would have for me if he really knew. Why hadn’t I thought of this before? It was perfect!
“I’m a virgin and I was in your room, and looking at your bed made me think of sex, and I realized that I wasn’t ready and I was scared and that’s why I left. It had nothing to do with the picture.” For the love of GOD, please buy it, Dusty.
He looked at me really hard, and I, for the first time ever, was glad that my face and ears were turning red. It was more from fear that he wouldn’t buy it than from embarrassment about revealing I still had my V card. But he didn’t have to know that.
“Seriously? That’s what you were freaking about?” Sweet Jesus H. Christ, he bought it. I heaved an internal sigh of relief.
“Well, yeah. I know I was, like, all over you, but I got thinking about it and I guess I lost it. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, but you can see why I wouldn’t.”
Now he looked confused again.
“Why?”
“Because I know, for a fact, that you’ve been with plenty of girls before, so you’re probably used to...girls with more experience. And I barely have any.” Okay, I was actually embarrassed now. That wasn’t part of the plan.
“Oh, my God. I cannot believe I just told you that.” I put my head in my hands.
“Hey, hey,” he said, coming over and pulling them away. “You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. I kind of guessed, but I was waiting for you to say something. If you’re worried about me, don’t be. It doesn’t matter that you haven’t been with anyone else. It wouldn’t matter to me if you’d been with a hundred guys. Just the fact that you wanted to share that moment with me means...everything. You mean everything to me, Jos, and I don’t want to lose you. Even when you try to lose me.”
He gripped my hands tight and moved his face close to mine. I knew he was going to kiss me, and this time, I was going to stop it.
“Dusty, I can’t. I’m sorry. There are just...things that are standing in the way. Too many things. I don’t want to ruin what I’ve got here, and I’m afraid to screw things up and you’re too important to me. So if I can avoid fucking up what we have already, which is great, then I’d like to do that. Because what if we do this, and it doesn’t work out? Then what? You wouldn’t be able to come here anymore. Hunter would be put in a horrible position and I just... I don’t want to not see your face anymore. I couldn’t handle that.” Wow, I didn’t even know I felt that way until I said it out loud. Why hadn’t I just said that in the first place?
He opened his mouth to a
“I get it. I get that, and I understand it. Doesn’t mean I have to like it, but if that’s what you want, that’s what I’ll do. However and whenever I get to be in your life...I’ll take what I can get. I want you, any way I can get you. I guess you’re my new addiction.” He smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile.
“I’m sorry you’re hooked on me. I’d suggest a support group, but I don’t think they have Joscelyn Addicts Anonymous.”
“That’s more than okay. You’re the one addiction I can live with.” I felt like I should reach out and touch his face, but that would probably lead to more kissing and that would undo all of the things I’d just said.
He let go of my hands and went and sat on the other end of the couch.
“So what do you think? Can we put Renee out of her misery and tell her that she can come in now?”
I heard rustling in the back room and I knew she was pretending not to listen, but we all knew that’s exactly what she was doing, if only to make sure I was okay. I nodded and turned my head.
“Renee! You can come out now.”
She dashed out as soon as she heard her name.
“You okay?” Her eyes went from me to Dusty and back.
“I’m fine. We’ve talked and everything is okay. No need for threats or pitchforks or mobs of angry villagers,” I said.
Renee gave me a look and Dusty shrugged.
“I don’t know where she gets it from,” Renee said.
“I don’t really care where it comes from. I just want to be with it wherever it’s going,” Dusty said. I shot him a look. He wasn’t supposed to say things like that anymore. He wasn’t supposed to say heart-melty things in front of my sister when I’d placed him very firmly into the friend zone. Was he screwing with me?
“Sorry,” he mouthed, but he didn’t look the least bit sorry. The doorbell rang again and Renee went to answer it.
“Honestly,” she said as she let the rest of the household back in.
I got up and smacked him in the chest.
“You’re not supposed to say stuff like that, you idiot,” I said as everyone piled in carrying bags and trays of foam coffee cups and several boxes of Munchkins.
“We got you a chai, Little Ne,” Mase said, handing me one of the cups.
“Thanks, Mase.” I sipped the chai and it was sweet and warm. Dusty grabbed a cup of black coffee and searched for all the jelly-filled Munchkins before someone else stole them. Two seconds ago he’d been flirting with me, but now he was acting like I didn’t exist. What the crap.
“You okay?” Taylor said, sidling up to me. “That was pretty...heated earlier.”
“I’m fine. Dusty and I had a chat and decided we’re better as friends.”
She laughed a little and grabbed a croissant from one of the bags. “You mean, you decided. I find it impossible to believe that he would go for that.”
“He said it was my decision,” I said. Still laughing a little and shaking her head, she went to the cupboard and got down a jar of Nutella. If there was one thing we always had at Yellowfield House, it was Nutella. We might be out of toilet paper, or laundry detergent, but we would never, ever be out of Nutella.
Tearing the croissant up, she unscrewed the jar of Nutella and dipped a knife in and slathered the chocolate goodness on the croissant pieces.
“Trust me. Hunter didn’t back down when I pushed him away, and Dusty is the same way.” I looked around, but no one was listening or watching us.
“What are you talking about, baby?” Hunter said, coming up behind Taylor and putting his head on her shoulder.
“Yeast infections,” she said with a wink at me.
“Yum. You gonna share some of that?” he said, pointing to her Nutella-covered croissant bits.
She sighed and held one up for him and he ate it from her fingers and she laughed as he licked the chocolate off. Taylor gave me a look, and at first I didn’t understand it, but then she reached out and pulled me close so she could whisper in my ear.
“Let him in. You’ll regret it if you don’t. Trust me.”
She let me go and went back to feeding Hunter parts of her croissant. I went back into the living room and found Dusty messing around with Hunter’s guitar. I didn’t know he could play.
Everyone else was still in the kitchen and I had the feeling that they were trying to give us some privacy.
“Have any requests, Red?” he said, strumming the instrument as if he was born with one in his hand.
“You can play?”
“Yeah, Hunter’s been teaching me. I feel like you kind of have to play if you’re a music teacher. You know, for sing-alongs and stuff.” Well, those must have been some damn good lessons, because it was obvious that he was a natural.
“What was that song you sang to me last night at Hannah’s?” I said quietly so no one would overhear.
“Oh, ‘Live and Die’ by the Avett Brothers. I’m surprised you didn’t know that one.” I’d gotten a few of their CDs, but not all of them. He started the upbeat song, which had a sweet melody that somehow worked with the lyrics, which might have been taken from a much-less-jaunty-sounding song.
Dusty’s singing voice was deeper than I would have thought, and I could tell he’d had to take the song down a few keys to make it work for him, but he’d done it flawlessly.
I couldn’t help but tap my feet to the addicting chorus, and I felt the eyes and ears of everyone in the kitchen on me and Dusty. He kept his eyes on me the whole time, barely even blinking. A smile of pure joy was stuck on his face, and I couldn’t help but smile, too. He strummed the last note of the song and I laughed.
“What next, Red?”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I want to. I like playing. It’s one of the only things that makes me truly and completely happy.” He leaned over the guitar and lowered his voice. “Besides you, of course.”
I shot a look behind me, but everyone scrambled to pretend they hadn’t been eavesdropping. “Dusty.”
“What? I can’t say that you make me happy? Damn, Red. Harsh.”
“Play whatever you want. It doesn’t matter to me,” I said, crossing my arms.
“Okay. I will.”
And then he started a song that made me want to beg him to stop and pick another song. After seeing that picture of Nathan, my memories of him were fresh and raw and this song was just going to make it worse.
Dusty somehow did justice to the Ingrid Michaelson version of “Creep,” although I had no idea how. Their voices were galaxies apart, but Dusty took her soft version and added a little bit of the edge back in, making it a little harder, a little more heart-wrenching, and I couldn’t take it.
I got up from the couch and Dusty stopped, slamming his hand on the guitar to stop the strings from vibrating.
“I can’t.” And then I dramatically dashed from the room, ran downstairs and slammed my door before he, and everyone else, could see me crying.
* * *
Of course, given the fact that I lived with a crap ton of people, someone was bound to come after me. A soft knock at my door made me look up from my pillow. I’d thrown myself on my bed, hoping to get myself together so I could explain it to whoever came to ask me what the hell was going on.
“Joscelyn.” Of course it was Dusty. They couldn’t have sent Taylor, or Mase, or even Renee. I wondered how hard he had to fight to be the one to come and check on me.
“Go away, Dusty. Seriously. Just leave me the fuck alone. Go back to your apartment. I’m sure Napoleon is missing you.”
“I’m not going away. I thought I made that pretty damn clear.” I heard him slide to the floor outside the door. “So you can stay in there all you want, b
“Why can’t you find someone else?” I said, throwing my pillow at the door. It was a pointless thing to do and didn’t make me feel any better.
“I don’t want anyone else, Red. I want you.”
“Well, I don’t want you.”
He laughed, and I wished I could reach through the door and strangle him.
“I think I can smell your pants burning from here.”
“You think you’re so fucking funny, don’t you?” I got up and spoke through the door so he could hear me loud and clear.
“Sometimes.”
“Dusty. Please. Just leave. Me. Alone.”
He was silent for a moment. I thought he was going to finally go away, but I didn’t hear him get up.
Then I heard him singing softly. “This” by Ed Sheeran. I adored that song, under normal circumstances.
“You’re not going to get me to come out by singing, so just stop it.” He didn’t. The song continued, and Dusty’s voice got louder and stronger.
“Shut the fuck up!” I screamed, pounding on the door. It was just too much. I tried to drown him out, but I couldn’t. I kicked the door repeatedly, trying whatever I could, short of opening the door and punching his lights out, to get him to stop and go away.
“SHUT UP!” His voice was calm and smooth as he sang. I kicked the door one more time and screamed in frustration. He ignored me.
I panted from my freak-out and sat on the floor. My nose was running, so I wiped it on my sleeve.
“Why won’t you stop?” I said, not loud enough for him to hear. “I’m the reason your brother is dead. Why can’t you understand that and leave me alone?” The song cut off.
“What did you say?” There was no way he could have heard me.
“Nothing.” I moved closer to the door. “Dusty?”
“Yes, Jos.”
“Do you think you could ever hate me?”
He shifted on the other side of the door, and his voice got closer, as if he was talking through the crack between the door and the frame.