Thirty-Nine
Thirty-Nine
The alarm clock blares. I ignore it and continue sleeping. It goes off again and, grumbling, I press snooze again. I bury my head beneath the pillow, having zero desire to get out of this bed.
“Vanessa?” My mother’s dull voice echoes in my ears. “Vanessa, you need to get up or you’ll be late. It’s already half past seven,” she shouts, knocking on the door. Shit, she’s right. Though it takes all the willpower I have, I open my eyes and get out of bed. I put on my bathrobe and drag myself to the door. When I open it, I find my mother leaning against the doorframe with a guilty look on her face.
“We need to talk.” Victor must have told her about our little conversation last night. I can’t think of any other reason for her full transformation into this helpless little lamb.
“Yes, we do.” Yawn. “But not now. I have to leave now,” I tell her in a voice both annoyed and sleepy.
“Vanessa, I was going to tell you, it’s just that…” I brush past her, ignoring her completely, but she runs right after me as though nothing is wrong. “You seemed so busy lately, you know, with college, the breakup with Travis, the new job… I didn’t want to give you something else to worry about.”
I grin sardonically and turn back to her. “That’s the official version, Mom. The unofficial version is that, as always, you made a decision without me because you think that any thought or feeling that doesn’t come directly from you is superfluous. Yesterday, you threatened to take everything away from me, and then I immediately find out that Victor is moving in. You know what? I would rather live on the street than inside a house with two complete strangers. So if you want to kick me out, just know that you’ll be doing me a favor.” I lock myself in the bathroom after slamming the door behind me.
After taking a shower, I decide to put on jean overalls with a yellow sweater. I roll up the hems a bit and slip on my Converse shoes. I do my hair up in a long side braid and put just a touch of mascara on. When I go down to the kitchen to get breakfast, I find my mother intensely focused on squeezing orange juice and Victor standing at the stove as he pours the last drops of coffee into his cup. Great.
When he notices my presence—and probably the smoke coming out of my ears—he gasps in embarrassment.
“For your information, you are not the only person who likes to drink coffee first thing in the morning.” I grab my bag, sling it over my shoulder, and leave the house without saying goodbye to anyone.
I head toward the bus stop, hunching over the tangled knot of my earphones; I am about to plug them into my phone when I hear the roar of an engine behind me. I don’t have time to turn around before a black motorcycle pulls alongside me and slows to a stop.
“What’s up with the Minion-chic?”
Dear, sweet, Thomas.
“There’s nothing wrong with my overalls. And a Minions reference, really? Are you my grandma?” I taunt him.
He puts one foot on the ground and lifts his dark visor. His jeans cling to his muscular thighs. “My sister was obsessed with those movies when we were kids.”
“Of course…” I chuckle. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m taking you to campus,” he says seriously, handing me the second helmet he has hanging from his handlebars. “Hop on.”
I adjust my bag to sit more comfortably on my right shoulder and bite my lip, unsure of what to do. “Uh…thank you, but I’d like to get to campus all in one piece.”
“Come on, I promise I’ll go slow,” he insists with a cocky grin.
Against all common sense, I can’t help but give in to those cunning eyes that pretend at innocence. “Okay.”
Fortunately for me, he keeps his promise. The ride is slow and calm. My body is pressed against him, and every time he feels me tense up, he puts his hand on my knee and gives it a reassuring squeeze.
Our arrival at the college piques the interest of a few students, who give us curious looks. Thomas, heedless of everything as usual, slips on the Ray-Bans he had hanging from the collar of his sweatshirt. He puts his arm around my shoulders and plants a chaste kiss on my left temple. The awareness that multiple eyes are on me makes me stiffen. Uncomfortable, I pull away from the embrace and I distance myself a little.
“You ready?”
“I spent the night studying, so I’d say yeah,” I answer vaguely, looking around.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asks grumpily.
I frown and look up at him. “Nothing.”
“Why’d you pull away?”
“Ah, no, that’s nothing. It’s just a little hot, isn’t it?” I smile, trying not to show my discomfort.
He grabs me by the wrist and stops me. “Of all the bullshit excuses you could come up with, you picked the worst. It’s November and you don’t get hot. Ever.”
Damn, he knows me better than I thought. “You know what the problem is. I feel uncomfortable with everyone looking at me.”
He sighs, irritated. “Still?” He pulls me back until I’m beside him again and puts both arms around my shoulders, locking me in his embrace. “How long do you intend to let these dumbasses influence your life?”
“That’s easy for you to say, Thomas. You’re a man. You don’t know what it’s like. I’m sure whenever you turn a corner, the boys are there to high-five you and congratulate you on scoring once again. But it’s different for me. You’re not going to be the one who gets publicly humiliated in the hallway. Or labeled as just another girl who slithered into your bed.”
“What are you talking about?”
I sigh rubbing my forehead. “Nothing, never mind.” I could tell him about Shana’s little jealous scene, but what would be the point? “I’m just saying that when a girl is seen to be with someone like you, she’s inevitably thought of as easy.”
“Someone like me?” He gives me a confused look.
“Yes, come on, you get it. You’re not what one might call a chaste innocent, Thomas,” I add, starting to get a little upset at his apparent willful misunderstanding.
“And how does this reflect on you?” he asks with surprising naivete.
“Well, because they’ll think that I’m one of many—which, by the way I am—and that I’m exactly like you, which I am not. At all.”
“You know what your problem is? You think too much. You care too much about the judgment of others. The people who love you know what kind of person you are. I know it too. That’s all that matters. Everyone else…let ’em think whatever they want.” He turns me toward him, so that we are facing each other, and wraps his arms around my shoulders. “You are not my slut.” He emphasizes the word, alluding to that time a while ago when I had called myself that. “You are mine. Mine and that’s it.”
The look on his face is so reassuring that I almost believe him. Almost, because then I remember who I’m talking to and I come back down to earth. Thomas doesn’t want girlfriends. He doesn’t want relationships. He doesn’t want ties. So, with a tiny smile to hide the bitterness, I remind him: “I’m not yours.”
He gives me a mischievous smile and then kisses me, holding me close to him. One of his hands rests on my hip and the other glides greedily over my butt, giving it a shameless squeeze. Right in front of all the students who are passing by. I pull back and stare at him in disbelief. “You kissed me,” I say a few inches from his mouth, my stomach clenched. He nods. “Why did you do that?” I ask, my heart hammering in my chest.
“Because I wanted to kiss you, and you needed to be kissed. Stop being paranoid.” He gives me a decisive pat on the butt before bringing his arm back around my shoulders and walking us both into the liberal arts building. Once in the classroom, Thomas takes a seat next to me in the front row. While we wait for Professor Scott to arrive, we get lost in small talk. My ankle rests on his knee, his arm stretches along the back of my chair, and he plays idly with the loose strands of my hair. I tell him about spending all night studying, but I can’t hide my agitation or the fear that I have not crammed enough. He laughs, amused by my nerves.
To my surprise, the test goes rather smoothly. I’m almost certain that I’m not going to fail. At the end of class, Thomas and I unfortunately have to part ways. We don’t have any other shared classes today, and Thomas has practice in the evening, so who knows when we’ll be able to see each other again. I admit that it weirds me out a little, no longer having someone asking me to follow him to the gym. I’m relieved, because it’s terribly boring, but a very small part of me wishes Thomas would ask me to come. When Travis did it, it felt like an unbearable burden. But with Thomas, I kind of want to come, and the fact that he doesn’t even ask me leaves a weird taste in my mouth.
After we part ways, I go by the cafeteria and catch a glimpse of Tiffany and Alex, sitting at the table next to each other, discussing something intently. I decide to join them.
“I’m telling you, I’m her favorite.”
“Don’t be stupid, I’m her favorite.”
“You are delusional.”
“Accept it, you can’t compete.”
“Hey, guys.” I put my bag on an empty chair and sit down with them. “What are you talking about?”
“About you!” Alex exclaims.
“We were wondering, actually Alex was wondering, because I already know, which of us is more important to you?” says Tiffany, sitting right across from me.
My eyes widen in bewilderment. “What?”
“Yeah, who’s your favorite?” Alex echoes with absolute firmness.
“I don’t have one,” I answer truthfully.
“Don’t be ridiculous, there’s always a favorite. I know that firsthand. My mother has spent the last twenty years saying she doesn’t have a favorite, but that’s bullshit. Her favorite is and always was Travis. I’m my dad’s favorite, though.”
“There’s no need to argue about this. You both occupy special places in my heart. Equal places. I could never pick one of you over the other.” I smile sweetly at both of them, hoping I’ve given them the answer they wanted and we could maybe get back to being the mature young adults we are supposed to be. But they are far from throwing in the towel.
“Who were you thinking of when you said ‘one’?” Tiffany prompts me.
I frown. “Huh?”
“You said: I could never pick one of you over the other. So who’s the one and the who’s the other?” she continues.
I give her a puzzled look. “Tiff, I don’t think…”
“She’ll never admit it because she is too nice, and she would never hurt your feelings, but I’m her favorite. I’ve known her since she was six years old, you on the other hand have known her for how long? Two years?” Alex snorts and gives her a haughty smirk. I cannot believe this is actually happening.
“It’s five years. Pretending not to know only makes you look dumb, Alex.” Tiffany is starting to sound a bit irked. That usually means she’s about one step away from flying off the handle.
“Whether it’s two, three, or four, it’ll still never be comparable.”
“So you say. And yet, right before she got her diploma, it was my hand she wanted to hold for moral support, not yours.”
“Yes, but who was the first person she thanked when she gave her speech? Oh yeah, it was me.”
My God, this situation is rapidly becoming more ridiculous. Tiffany glares defiantly at Alex and I seem to have disappeared completely.
“Junior year of high school, Amanda Jones made fun of her in front of the whole class. I was the first person she told.”
Alex lets out a mocking chuckle. “But I was the one who consoled her. I saw her with no teeth.”
What the…?
“I saw her naked,” retorts Tiffany with the air of someone playing a trump card.
“I stood by her through every failure,” Alex says.
“I did that too, you idiot!”
“You two…” I try to make myself heard, but they don’t give me even a sliver of their attention.
“I convinced her to dump my brother,” Tiffany continues.
“Oh, please! You’re also the one who convinced her to get with him in the first place. I still remember it, you know? My brother keeps asking me about you. You should give him a chance. Blah, blah, blah.” He mimics her voice and gesticulations.
“What? That’s not how it happened at all, you jerk!”
Tiffany throws her last two orange slices at him, he ducks to avoid them, and I find myself having to break up a loud citrus fruit fight, as though they were five-year-olds.
“Enough! What, did you two do crack before you came here? Stop it now!” I scold them. Both of them struggle to compose themselves, feigning indifference and refusing to give the other even a glance. “Now let’s all take a breath and try to be adults. You can’t seriously be arguing about this nonsense. You two are the other parts of me. I need you”—I look at Alex—“just as much as I need you.” I look at Tiffany and grin, trying to wipe that pout off her face.
“He started it.” She sniffs, looking away.
“All I did was tell the truth,” Alex retorts huffily. I give him a dirty look.
“The truth.” Tiff is immediately angry again.
I snap my fingers between the two of them. “Shall we start again?”
Alex rolls his eyes, sighs, and stands up. “I’m going to get a drink. Nessy, do you want anything?” I shake my head no. His eyes slide over to Tiffany, who has her back to him, and, after a few seconds of indecision, he asks her the same question. But she ignores him. He shakes his head and goes to the counter. As soon as we are alone, I take advantage of the moment to ask Tiff what’s wrong. She seems way too upset for me to believe that it’s all about that stupid fight.
“Hey.” I take her hand. “What’s up with you?”
“He was provoking me from the moment I sat down,” she explains defensively.
“I’m not talking about you and Alex, I’m talking about you. Something’s going on, tell me about it.”
Tiffany sighs and slumps back against her chair. “This whole thing with my brother has me terrified. The situation at home isn’t the greatest, and I keep thinking that maybe I could have done something to help him before everything got out of control…”
“Tiff, you have nothing to blame yourself for. He was in the wrong. And it’s a lot to handle. But he finally did the right thing. I’m sure he’ll get himself together. He has realized that he’s lost his way, and that’s already a big step.” I give her a smile in the hopes of heartening her. And I make an effort to really believe my own words. Despite everything, I really do hope Travis rediscovers his best self.
When Alex returns, Tiffany seems to have calmed down and Alex has fortunately also laid down his arms. He sits down next to her and quietly hands her a small bottle of flavored water, the kind that Tiffany usually drinks during the day to keep herself hydrated. I smile at the cuteness of this gesture, even though they are like cats and dogs sometimes. “Truce?” he asks, smiling gently at her.
She looks sideways at him, trying to keep up an aloof air, but quickly gives in. “Truce.” She takes the small bottle of water, suppressing a smile, and stuffs it into her bag. Alex envelops her in a warm hug and everything returns to the perfect balance we had before.
I spend the rest of the afternoon in the library with Tiffany. The intent was to study, but we mostly wind up finishing our conversation. At one point, she gets a call from her father asking her to come back home. Her house is in an uproar these days; the whole Travis thing has turned her family upside down. His imminent departure was just the coup de grace for them.
It’s almost eight o’clock, and because I’m starting to get a little hungry, I decide to head to the cafeteria to get something to eat before going home. I get in line and put what appears to be a Caesar salad on my tray, add a slice of toast to it, and pay for everything. Then I look around for a free table. I manage to spot one next to a small group of girls, and I step toward it. But as soon as they see me, they start muttering something to one another and laughing. For a moment, I’m afraid I have something in my hair or maybe a stain on my clothes, but when a girl with short curly hair gets up from the table to leave, I realize that Shana has been sitting across from her. She looks at me as though she’s trying to make me disappear with the power of her mind. I roll my eyes and turn around. The girl is stalking me.
Fortunately, I find another open table at the back of the cafeteria, away from those harpies. I’m about to snag it when someone behind me puts their hands over my eyes and presses their lips against my ear. For a moment, my whole body stiffens under that foreign touch.
“Did you miss me?” someone whispers in my ear. And a faint sound, barely audible, yet it makes me shiver. Whether it’s from pleasure or fear, I can’t really decide. An arm wraps around my waist and a wet mouth rests on my neck.
Oh my God. Logan is back.
And he’s kissing me.