20. Memory Lane
WEST
Eva heads out of Skye’s room with a mile-high list of things to do. I can’t help but stare at her amazing body and the way she moves. I’m trying to play it cool, but after last night, I’m anything but cool.
Holy shit—that was amazing.
Well, until we got caught. And now my mind’s a goddamn pinball machine, thoughts pinging off every mental bumper. I know I’m supposed to be focused on Zach and the wedding saboteur, but I can’t. Eva’s taking up all my mental space, and I need to have a heart-to-heart with Skye because if there’s anyone who can unscrew the lid on this bottled-up mess of emotions, it’s her.
As soon as Eva’s out of earshot, I say, “Can I get your advice?”
“Of course.” Skye sits next to me on the couch, letting Coco jump on her lap before she says, “So. Talk to me, you big bundle of stud muffin.”
“Right,” I croak.
“Sweetie, you should be riding high. But you look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
“Just all up in my head.” I tap my fingers on Balls’s back.
“Let’s crack that head open, then.”
“Thanks.” I sink deeper into the cushions. “I’ve got this... thing. It’s gnawing at me.”
“Ah, the infamous ‘thing.’” She moves Coco over and makes room for Dior to jump on her lap too.
“Right.” I run a hand through my hair, now questioning if looking good equates to feeling good. Spoiler: it doesn’t.
“Hit me with it.”
I hesitate, my brain accessing the lost-and-found bin of emotional crap. I pick at a thread on the couch, winding it around my finger. “I have a hard time expressing my feelings.”
“Ah.” Skye scrubs both dogs’ heads at the same time. “Okay, so the first step I take is to go hunting in the murky waters of someone’s past.”
“I see.” I sigh, old embarrassment heating my cheeks. “So you want me to tell you something that damaged me.”
“If something comes to mind.”
I groan. “Unfortunately, it does.”
“Let me guess—kids can be cruel assholes.”
“Pretty much.” I lean back, feeling the weight of years press down on me. “Shit, it’s silly.”
“West, honey, if it still has real estate in your head, it’s not silly.” Dior is now licking her hand.
“Right.” I sigh, realizing that the room feels too small.
“Spill it.”
“Okay, okay.” I go to run a hand down my face but stop when I realize it’s been on Balls. “I was fourteen, and I thought, for a second, that I’d broken into the cool club. Boy, was I wrong.”
“I think I know where this is going,” she says, her usual lightness replaced by something fierce.
I launch into the story—one I’ve never told anyone before…
I’m gliding around the roller rink—awkward, wobbly, but still vertical. It’s Friday night, and the place buzzes with angst and hormones. The smell of sweat, cheap pizza, and desperation hangs in the air.
“Watch it, West!” my buddy hollers as I narrowly avoid a collision with a couple making out against the rink wall.
And then I see her. Rebecca Hammond. She’s like a vision from the rom com where the dork gets the hot girl, and everything magically works out. Her blonde hair bounces with each skate stroke. She’s surrounded by her usual posse, the standard hot mean girls.
“Hey, West,” Rebecca says, her voice like sweet tea. I can’t believe she knows my name.
“Uh, hey.” Smooth, West.
“Want to skate a loop?” She tilts her head. The fluorescent lights halo her, and I swear she looks angelic.
“Sure.” I’m trying to play it cool, but inside I’m losing my shit. My palms sweat, and my heart is trying to punch its way out of my chest.
She skates up next to me, and her pinky loops around mine.
I’ve won the fricking lottery.
As we skate, I’m on top of the world. We’re in sync, our skates keeping time with the thumping bass of “Drop It Like It’s Hot.” My mind races ahead. Rebecca Hammond is going to be my girlfriend. I’ll be the king of this little town. Dammit, I might even get invited to parties where they don’t just play Dungeons Dragons.
When we finish our victory lap, I’m already planning our future—one point five kids, a dog, maybe a cat if she’s into that.
She pulls away, skating over to her friends where I’m sure she’s about to tell them how amazing our skate was. I watch on, smiling, waiting for her to come back and do it again when I see her friends fishing dollar bills out of their pockets.
My heart sinks to my scuffed rental roller skates as the truth hits me.
A bet? A fucking bet?
I’m not getting the girl. I’m just the sideshow entertainment.
The rink is suddenly too bright, the laughter of Rebecca and her entourage harsh. Her voice, all sugar a moment ago, now venom. “Come on, Weirdo West. You didn’t actually think I liked you?” Rebecca’s eyes are cold.
I try to muster bravado, but it’s like trying to catch smoke. “Yeah, well, you’re not exactly my type either,” I lie through my teeth.
“You and all your weirdo sex toys your parents bring home.” Jessica Markowski punctuates each word with a giggle.
My face is a bonfire. The snickers cut through me, a blade finding an old wound and twisting. My parents’ shop might as well be a brothel in our peach-pie town.
“Original,” I snap, though it hangs limp in the air.
One minute I’m on cloud nine with a girl out of my league, and the next I’m the joke at the end of their mean-girl punchline.
The laughter fades as they skate away, but it echoes an endless loop in my head. I’m crushed, ground into the dirt along with any shred of self-worth I’d mustered.
“Whatever,” I mutter, pushing off with more force than necessary. I skate away, but there’s a weight in my chest, heavy as lead, pulling me down. They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, but right now, I feel like wet tissue paper.
As I finish the story, I meet Skye’s eyes, shadowed with pain. My voice deflates when I say, “So there I was. Reminded that I’d never fit in. Never get the girl. Of course, over the years I grew up and filled out, gained more confidence. But sometimes I’m reminded that I’m still that country kid with sex shop parents, and it messes with my head.”
“Those little shits.” Skye shakes her head.
“Still feels like I’m wearing that ‘weirdo’ label under my shirt sometimes.” The confession tastes bitter.
“Let me tell you a secret.” Skye leans in, squishing the dogs a bit. “I was a weirdo. I still am a weirdo. The best people are weirdos. We’re the ones who love deeply, create magic, and change the world.”
I manage a half-smile, feeling the warmth of her words chip away at the block of doubt lodged in my chest. “Weirdo and proud, then?”
“Damn right.” She winks, and I can’t help but feel a glimmer of hope.
“Where are Rebecca Hammond and Jessica Markowski now?” Skye asks. “Are they about to be invited to appear on a reality dating show?”
“No. Neither ever left town.”
“And look at you now—smart, successful, and a total catch.” She touches my arm. “And just so you know, I think Orderly Eva and Weirdo West could be a great match. But you need to tell her how you feel.”
I swallow hard, coaxing my mouth to say the words out loud. “How? When she’s supposed to be getting with the guy her dad hand-selected for her?”
“You do it because you have to—for yourself. You tell her so you never have to live with the regret of not taking it as far as you can—or always wondering what could’ve been.” She shrugs. “Look at me and Billy. Took us years, but I’m so glad we finally admitted we were twin flames.”
“Yeah, you two are amazing.” I nod slowly, blowing out a shaky breath. “Okay. I’m going to do it.”