22. Spotted
He looks back to the guys he’s with and walks away. He makes no effort for another glance, but I stare until I hear a ding.
I turn my body to see Tamara texting someone on her phone.
“Lainey, you really need to talk to your brother,” she says, eyes glued to her screen.
“Ew. Why?”
She looks up. “He’s ranting to me about your parents.”
Good to know it’s not just Cameron he’s spilling our family tea to. He’s telling his entire social circle. “He shouldn’t be doing that. Sorry.”
She bites nervously at her lip and moves her head the tiniest bit. “No, he’s really stressed and upset. He wants to talk to you about it.”
“He’s a piece of shit.”
Tamara winces at my words as if I had just called her the piece of trash. I make a face, and she explains. “Forgive me for getting involved. David’s goin’ through it. He hasn’t necessarily told me all the details, just the gist of the situation and how you’re being ‘unreasonable’ and ‘a bad sister.’” At my face, she adds, “His words.”
“Remind me to slap him for a second time.”
“Listen, I don”t know everything, but you’re lucky to have each other and at a time like this it’s better to be on the same side.”
“I wouldn’t say lucky,” I remark.
Her brows furrow, not like she’s mad but like she’s pained. “You are.”
I lift my shoulders.
“Some of us no longer have the chance to appreciate that sibling relationship.”
“That’s not exactly our—” I change my mind once it becomes clear that we’re not talking about David.
Tamara’s mouth falls open, her tongue pressing against her teeth. It takes her a moment to recover, and she gives me a forced smile.
“What is it?”
Some more time of contemplation and she gives in. “My older brother. Let’s just say I no longer have the opportunity to—” She swallows hard. “—express to him how much he did for me. How much I appreciated him.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, at a loss for something better. My heart suddenly takes on the weight of a brick. That brick falls to my ass. I was just heavy-duty bashing my brother in front of someone who lost their own.
“It’s fine. Just, can you promise me to at least try to understand each other?”
In my opinion, I’m not the one causing the problem. David is the one who supports my mom, agreeing that splitting up the family is the right choice. That being said, David’s words on our phone call this morning sounded pretty desperate.
“Yeah,” I promise. More for her than my actual desire to go through it.
We’re next in line.
“One bag. Extra butter,” Tamara says.
“Kettle please,” I say.
The handsome man releases the bags. Hands Tamara a bag of yellow popcorn and me a bag of slightly tanned popcorn. We pay and then step out of line. Immediately I tear mine open and toss a few pieces in my mouth. Tamara sniffles then hands me her bag. “I gotta pee.”
All I can respond with is a half nod before she walks off. I have a feeling that abrupt exigency for a pee break has something to do with our conversation.
Damn you, you mean and terrible sister.
Shut up, how was I to know?
“Lydia.” I whip around to see Mikey striding toward me. Uh oh. No, no. I look over my shoulder, but Tamara is out of sight. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I say automatically.
Crap.
My voice has to be a dead giveaway, but he doesn’t react visibly.
“We didn’t get to talk much up there. Do you go to our school?” he asks.
“No.”
“No?”
“I just moved here from Jersey.”
He grips the frame of his glasses and pushes them up. I have a weird feeling he’s trying to get me to speak. “Tell me about yourself?” As much as possible. Damn you, I’m trying to avoid you!
“Long story.”
“Not a talker?”
Relentless.
He takes a single step closer to me. “You have a freckle on the left side of your nose. It stands out in the sun.” My hand flies to my face without my brain’s consent. “It’s kind of a dead giveaway.”
My breath catches in my throat. Mikey closes the distance between us, both hands gripping the sides of Tamara’s glasses. As he gently removes them, his face becomes clearer, closer than it’s ever been to mine even though we literally slept together. Once the deed is done, he backs away. His shoulders sink, and his expression grows sad.
“Are you hiding from someone?” he asks. “From me?”
Even though it’s true, I go into damage control mode. “No. No. I’m not hiding. I’m just trying out my Halloween costume.” I wanna punch my own gut for that lame response. He obviously doesn’t buy it. I can see it as he squints one eye at me as if he’s trying to figure me out.
“I’m sorry,” he offers. “For calling you toxic over text.” He lifts a hand to the side of his neck. “All that I can say is I was distraught. What happened that night…I thought you wanted it. You suggested we go upstairs, and you flat out told me—” He cuts himself off, and I’m grateful because just him talking about it makes me feel as embarrassed and ashamed as that night.
“It’s fine. I remember, but sobering up I realized I shouldn’t have even suggested it. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
His eyebrows scrunch together.
“You’re very sweet, but it’s just I’m not in love with you. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of your feelings. And I should have waited.”
“For Cameron,” he finishes, his tone kind but his face betraying his hurt feelings. “It’s fine. I’m not a saint either. It was wrong of me to agree. I gladly went along with it because I like you.”
“I’m sorry.” I truly doubt there is anything else I can say in this moment that will make either one of us feel any better about the situation. He recovers and allows me to see a flicker of a smile before saying, “You can ditch the disguise now.”
“I should probably stick with it until I know Brazely won’t beat my brains out for talking to Tamara,” I deadpan.
That draws a laugh, and I can’t help but smile.
“Good luck,” he says and returns to his spot in line.
Once Tamara comes back from the bathroom, we walk a couple of times around the boardwalk while munching on our snacks.
As the sun lowers, the neon lights come on, and the mood of the pier completely changes.
Tamara and I stop after our second lap by one of the game tents. She looks past me and pulls out her phone. “We should get some pictures. These lights are gorgeous.”
I scratch my head, the wig finally irritating my poor scalp. “You think I’m safe if I take this off?”
She nods and removes it from my head, which causes my natural brown hair to fall past my shoulders. She fixes the sun hat that was gripped in my hand onto my head. She messes with my hair a little and holds her phone up. Both of us make cute faces, and she snaps some selfies, being sure to get the glowing pier in the background. After five good pictures, Mikey, Brazely, and some other girl with orange hair run up to us.
“Tam!” calls Brazely.
“Kay wants to do the bumper cars, then the West Coaster,” Mikey says. That must be the redhead’s name.
Brazely’s eyes narrow when she sees me out of disguise. She has the good sense to keep her mouth shut about it though.
“Okay, okay. Pictures first!” Tamara says. Mikey and Kay join for a couple of pictures. Brazely stays on the sidelines, throwing imaginary darts at my head. That terrible guilt I had built up from sleeping with Mikey begins to slip away when he leans into me for the picture, the scent of cherry radiating off him.
Tamara tells Mikey and Kay to meet us there. Brazely slowly mopes along, very slowly behind them. Tamara grabs my arm and turns me to face her. “Something tells me she’s stopped to stare,” she says softly.
“Do whatever you need to,” I tell her.
The last thing I should be doing right now is kissing someone else. I’m a big ball of confusion but oh, just to know Brazely is going to be pissed about it satisfies me. Maybe she’ll get the message, move on, and leave both of us alone.
Tamara mouths a Thank you then leans in close to me. She puts her hand facing Brazely against my cheek.
Oh my God. I am about to be kissed by another woman.
Instantly after that thought, one that was heavily delayed, my heart rate speeds up. She presses her lips to mine the slightest bit. She does not force my mouth open like Cameron would do with his tongue. It’s more like my first kiss with Cameron minus the chagrin of that disaster. Halfway between our kiss, I lift a hand to her cheek.
When we’re done set a reminder to ask Tamara for her skincare routine.
When we break apart, both of us look to where we last saw Brazely. She is in fact staring, but now her face is not just filled with disdain but deep loathing and a hint of a broken heart. That’s what we want though, so I don’t need to feel bad. Right?
Tamara faces me again. I catch an inkling of sadness, but she is quick to perk up again. “Bumper cars?”
I suck in air and clear my throat. “Sure, sure.”