Chapter Seven #2
But one book in a special display case made me shudder.
Still, I stepped closer to it, shocked by what I saw—what appeared to be a first edition copy of The Great Gatsby, a gorgeously persevered book accompanied by a name plate, and what appeared to be memorabilia from various film adaptations over the years, and a cocktail napkin signed by F. Scott Fitzgerald himself.
Holy shit.
Still keeping an eye on the party, I backed out of the room, headed toward what I assumed would be a hallway leading to the living room and oversized Warhol.
“Ooof.”
I backed into something, and I whirled around. A man stood in the hallway wearing a dark suit, grey tie, and a black mask with gold threads. “Oh God, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay,” he replied, and it only took those two words for me to recognize the voice. His name caught in my throat.
“Adam?”
Adam
17 YEARS OLD
After the kiss, after the party had ended, after I’d been dismissed, and as I drove my beater of a Toyota Camry to what qualified as home, I mentally kicked myself for taking that kind of a risk.
Lila Montague was so far out of my league she might as well have lived in a different universe. And everyone knew it.
“What’s wrong?” Greg, my current foster dad, asked when I shuffled through the back door of his house and closed the door louder than necessary.
As always, Greg sat rooted to the tan La-Z-Boy recliner that he loved, a can of Budweiser in one hand, ESPN’s SportsCenter playing on the TV ten feet away.
At least he’d asked the question, but his tone of voice and focus on college basketball scores told me he didn’t want a real answer.
“Nothing.” I made my way through the kitchen and into the den.
“How’d the party go?” Greg’s attention remained on the sports report as he took a long swig of beer. “Fancy, right?”
“Yeah,” I said, crossing the room to the entrance of the long hallway of the ranch Greg owned with Karen, his wife and my foster mother. “Very fancy.”
I made it to the hall before he replied. “At least they let you work the party,” Greg called. “You have to be grateful for that.”
I thought about his words as I climbed onto the bunk bed I shared with Tommy, my foster brother for the next few months, but only until I turned eighteen in early May.
Tommy already slept on the top twin bed.
Grateful was about all I had the right to be.
When I woke up the following morning, I had a plan.
I didn’t have to work until Monday, but anytime I showed up at the Montague house from that day forward, I’d make sure my path didn’t cross with Lila’s.
It would hurt at first but be simpler in the end. I knew that, and soon she would too.
Winter break wouldn’t last much longer anyway, and Lila would head back to her fancy boarding school, where she’d forget all about me. Two weeks would go by fast. I just needed to hold the line. I could certainly do that, right?
But the origami boats kept coming.
I found two on Monday, one on Tuesday, and a fourth on Wednesday afternoon, which also happened to be Christmas Eve.
Not that Christmas had ever meant much to me.
The best presents I’d ever received were a new backpack and a pair of tennis shoes from Josh and Maggie, my foster parents for fifth and sixth grade.
They’d been by far the best ones, but when they moved from Boca Raton to Denver just before the start of seventh grade, I had to move out too.
“Shit,” I said when the boat fell onto the concrete floor as I opened my locker door. I scooped up the shiny paper and shoved it into my work chinos, thankful I was the only one in the garage at the time.
“Shit?” a familiar voice said behind me. “That’s an interesting way to respond to a gift.”
I whirled around to find Lila on the steps between the garage and the side entrance to the house. The door was closed behind her, but I still gave the open garage door a nervous glance. “Oh, hey. I…I didn’t see you there.”
“Didn’t think you did.” Lila pushed off the concrete and wove around the parked cars, closing the space between us.
She wore a navy sweatshirt with Hempstead stenciled across the front, and a pair of grey athletic shorts.
A small frown knitted her eyebrows together. “So, um…I’m wondering something.”
“What?”
“Well”—she glanced away for a breath then looked back at me—“since the other night, have you…have you been avoiding me?”
“No,” I lied, and sweat almost instantly beaded on the back of my neck. “I mean, I’ve just been…busy.”
“I know Dad has given the staff a lot of chores this week. He always wants the house perfect for Christmas Day.”
“Was just about to restring the lights on the trellis by the pool,” I replied, breaths quickening in my chest. “I noticed a section of the white ones are out, and we can’t have that if Santa is coming to your house tonight.”
“No.” Her frown softened, and I took in her features. She reminded me of a Disney princess, full of innocence rounded out by thick hair, bee-stung lips, and the most soulful blue eyes I’d ever seen. God, she was getting under my skin. “We can’t have that.”
Our gazes locked and it felt like a decade of time passed.
“Listen,” I tried, finally breaking the silence. “About the other night at the party—”
“Yeah, about that.” She grinned.
“I probably…” I glanced at the garage door to make sure we were still alone. Thank God, we were. “I probably shouldn’t have kissed you.”
Lila stepped closer to me. “Do you really mean that?”
“Well, I was just thinking and”—my nostrils caught a whiff of something fruity and tropical in her hair, or on her neck, or—“what is that? Perfume?”
“It is.” Her eyes danced a little. “Do you like it?”
“Yeah, it’s nice.”
“Good.” She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, still studying me. “And I’m glad you found the latest boat.”
“Me too.” I scratched the back of my neck, wishing the sweat there would go away, along with the nervous butterflies building in my stomach. “The other night, if I did something wrong, I’m sorry.”
“No, Adam, you didn’t.” She raked a hand through her loose hair. “I liked it.”
“You did?” Something swelled inside my stomach I couldn’t place. “Well, in that case—”
“In that case, what?”
I glanced at the garage door again. We were still alone. Emboldened, I moved closer until her face was only inches away from mine, her scent all around me. “If I could kiss you again right now, I would,” I whispered in her ear. “But I don’t want someone to see us.”
She pulled slightly away from me and her eyes met mine. “What are you doing tomorrow?” She shook her head and her cheeks reddened. “I mean, not tomorrow. The day after that.”
“Not much. Your dad gave us Christmas and the following day off, so a whole bunch of nothing.” I suppressed a grimace.
I’d always hated the holidays and dreaded this time of year.
No quicker way to feel lonely than to be a foster kid without a real family to celebrate with on Christmas Day.
Not even a court-ordered fake family could make up for that kind of shitty reality. “Why?”
“My parents are going to Miami for the day.” She tucked a few thick strands of hair behind her ear. “I’ll tell them I can’t go…I’ll make an excuse. And then…well, what if we meet up some place?”
“Like where?”
“Have you ever been to Peanut Island?”
I shook my head. “I’ve heard about it, but I’ve never been over there.”
“We can take a water taxi from Singer Island. It’s really nice.” She took her cell phone out of her pocket. “So, Um…I’ll text you when they’re gone?”
“Perfect,” I replied, not bothering to show her my own phone, a cheap, pay-by-the-minute affair I’d snagged after saving money from doing odd jobs for Greg. “Here’s my number.”
She typed it in her device and gave me one more sweet smile before flouncing out of the garage. Once she was gone, I leaned against the row of lockers, my breath finally slowing down. For once, life was good. Really good. That kiss hadn’t been a mistake after all. She liked it. She liked me.
Merry Christmas.
Adam
PRESENT DAY
Wow, I had some strange luck in life. That didn’t mean good or bad luck, just odd.
Things sometimes had a way of simply happening to me, and that moment in the hallway was one of them.
I’d exited the wine cellar not even two minutes before, knowing Lila was somewhere on the property, but unsure how long it would take me to find her in the sea of masked guests.
But there she stood, right in front of me.
Hell yes.
I ripped off my mask. Lila’s eyes were wide and a little bloodshot.
Breaths heaved in and out of her chest, and she bit her upper lip as if she wanted to hang on to it forever.
Still, she was just as gorgeous as she’d been in The Breakers lobby two weeks before, only this time her beauty appeared more understated, and less defined by makeup.
Once again, my heart threatened to break free from my ribcage.
No, Adam, not yet…not yet.
“Hi, Lila,” I tried, my tongue sticky against my teeth, my salvia disappearing with every consonant. “Thank you for coming.”
Thank you for coming?
“I’m happy to be here.” She smiled, showing me a glimpse of the teenager I once knew. “So, this is your house, right?”
Lila had to already know the answer, because who didn’t know I owned this place, but for a moment I felt pleased She’d have to talk to me now, or go back to the party, but either way, she wouldn’t be able to leave, wouldn’t be able to disregard me the way she had several nights ago.
The hallway contained the only viable pathway to an exit, and I currently blocked it.
“It is.”
“Lovely party.” She glanced backward at the library. “I was just taking in your book collection.”