Chapter 15 Past
For the first time since moving here—well, besides finding a best friend in Molly—I was actually excited to be in Shay.
I still had butterflies from the day before. I’d dreamed of the sound of his voice, the way his hand felt wrapped around mine… and let’s be honest—there aren’t many things that make me want to wake up before sunrise.
But Paul Newsome was one of them.
I had to force myself to stay in bed and not jump up and start getting ready. I wasn’t supposed to see him until lunch, which meant I had several hours to do absolutely nothing… except panic.
Even though I’d already showered the night before, I took another one—which I never do in the morning, mostly because I hate drying my hair.
The hand-held hair dryer may be a “convenient invention,” but honestly? I always feel like I’m lifting weights every time I use it.
Wrapped in a towel, water dripping from my hair onto my pink rug, I froze—completely unsure where to even start.
My thoughts were all over the place.
How should I do my hair? Should I wear lipstick? No… that’s not me.
Oh, I want to kiss him.
What about my outfit?
I started prancing around my room—nerves, excitement, and the smell of my new rose shampoo probably all mixing in my brain.
I figured I’d get the hard part over with first. I grabbed the blow dryer and started in on my hair—it always takes forever.
About halfway through my accidental arm workout, I gave up and flung open my closet.
I don’t consider myself super girly. I like to look nice, but I don’t usually stand in front of the mirror analyzing every detail.
But today felt different.
I took a deep breath and glanced around—a new kind of panic set in…
If Mom walked in now, she’d know something was up.
It looks like a tornado had hit my room.
Instead of hail covering the ground, it was blouses and dresses.
My mom always hated when I’d say “I didn’t have anything to wear—but really, what was I supposed to wear when I was going on a date with one of the cutest boys in town.
Eventually, I settled on a light pink short-sleeved blouse with tiny yellow flowers, paired with my favorite white shorts and Keds. It felt like me, just... slightly upgraded.
I glanced at myself in the mirror and sighed. The outfit was fine…but it was time to face the hair again.
I went back and forth—should I wear a headband or not?
It felt like a dead giveaway that I was trying too hard. I decided it was best to just keep my hair down, which was probably a mistake—it’d frizz the moment I even thought about stepping outside. The humidity here is more dangerous than those dang snakes my mom’s always going on and on about.
Once I finally got the feeling back in my arms from blow-drying my hair and making sure I look the best I could, I used the leftover time to clean up my room.
I figured if I got home late again, at least having a clean room might work in my favor. I found myself just staring into the mirror—again.
I couldn’t help but think… this might be what I’m wearing when I kiss Paul Newsome.
The thought made my cheeks grow hot.
How does he do that to me… even when he’s not here?
The smell of breakfast cooking downstairs was a welcome distraction—leave it to my stomach to be the sensible one.
After giving my room one last once-over, I did my best to walk casually down the stairs—and not sprint out the front door.
The moment I hit the bottom step, the smell of toast, eggs, and bacon wrapped around me. From the kitchen, I heard my mom singing—she was always at her best after she’d slept off the effects of the pills.
Music played—soft, but upbeat—and when I peeked in, she was twirling around with a spatula, singing like the kitchen was her stage.
I froze in the doorway and just… watched. She looked so alive. So happy.
I guess she hadn’t heard me, because right as she went to hit a high note and spin, she caught sight of me standing there and jumped.
“Oh! Bristal Ann! You scared me.”
Laughing, I said, “Sorry, didn’t mean to. But honestly, I feel bad for Sonny—he has to perform next to Cher, and she’s got nothing on you.”
We both cracked up, then spent the next few minutes dancing and singing around the kitchen like fools.
As the song faded out, I could feel her eyes on me—really looking. She noticed I was not only up early but actually dressed and put together.
She tilted her head. “What are you up to today?”
Suddenly, the thought of what the day could hold—seeing him—clouded my mind again. I tried to come up with something fast, but just the thought of him had me tongue-tied.
First the cheeks, now this.
I rolled my eyes at myself. I was hopeless.
Still trying to sound casual, I smoothed out my shirt. “Nothing! Just, you know… figured I’d be productive for once. Miracles happen, right?”
She didn’t buy it. A small smile crept across her face, and though she managed to hold back the sarcastic comment, I could see it behind her eyes.
“Right.”
She knew I was up to something—but she didn’t push. She never did.
Mom always knew I’d tell her, eventually.
I tried to steer the conversation away from me and make small talk.
“What do you have planned today? Grocery Shopping?” Mom started to tell me just as dad walked into the kitchen.
“Hey,” he said, voice low, eyes flicking toward the stove.
Mom didn’t look up. “Hey, honey. Want some breakfast?” she asked, almost out of habit.
There was a pause. Too short to notice if you weren’t looking for it, but I was.
Dad opened the fridge slowly. “Smells good. Any bacon?”
“Yep,” Mom said, finally glancing his way. “There’s still some left if you want it.”
“Great,” Dad said with a forced smile. “Thanks.”
He grabbed the orange juice and poured himself a glass like it was just another day.
As she got up to make him a plate, she turned her attention back to me.
“And no, I’m not just doing groceries. I was thinking about seeing if Mrs. Lee wanted to grab a bit to eat at the club, she hasn’t been doing good since all that happened with her husband.”
“Oh yeah,” I muttered. — I wanted to say something about how Mrs. Lee deserved better than her cheating, lying husband, but I refrained. I began watching my dad’s facial expression when mom mentioned the situation. But he had his back turned looking at the window.
The silence after that felt longer than it was.
Mom sipped her coffee, and they broke the silence, “How about you? The project at work going well?
Dad nodded, but didn’t say anything. He took a bite of his breakfast instead. There was a shift in the room, maybe it was just the guilt of keeping the secret, because mom continued to carry on with her daily plans—not letting on that she knew anything.
Dad left for work shortly after and I helped mom clean up from breakfast. I knew I could have told her, it was just the two of us, but instead, I turned the radio up and we danced and sang the morning away.
…
Just after 11:30, Mom left to run her errands. The house filled with silence except for the sound of my heart beating out of my chest.
I couldn’t get my shoes on fast enough. I was eager—maybe too eager—to make it to the diner.
I wasn’t sure how long Mom would be gone, so I made sure to lock up before heading outside.
I skipped down the steps and over to the honeysuckle bushes.
I grabbed a handful, thinking of him. I wanted to smell just like them.
I pulled out the stems and savored the sweetness—maybe when we kissed today, I’d taste like honeysuckle too.
I turned toward the driveway to grab my bike—only to realize it wasn’t there.
In the excitement of everything that happened yesterday, I’d completely forgotten I left it at the diner.
Thankfully, Mom hadn’t noticed—or if she had, she didn’t say anything before she left.
I took off running, then forced myself to slow down. It was already so hot—the sun beating down—and I didn’t want to show up looking like a mess.
I reached the diner just before noon. A quick glance out back confirmed my bike was still propped against the wall, right where I left it.
I stepped inside, heart racing, eyes scanning the bar.
No Paul.
The lunch crowd had already taken over, so I slid into a booth, nerves tangling in my stomach as I waited.
An hour passed. No Paul.
I was starting to confuse nerves with hunger pains, so I ordered fries and a milkshake. I could’ve gone for a burger, but I didn’t want to overdo it—just in case it was nerves.
Still, I could barely focus on the food. Every time the door opened, I jumped, hoping it was him. Each time, disappointment followed.
I waited a little longer, trying to stay hopeful, but the thoughts started creeping in.
Did he forget? Did me running off ruin everything?
My eyes started to sting, but I blinked it away and straightened up. I wasn’t going to sit here and fall apart.
I walked to the counter to pay for my food. Neal gave me a look—like he knew, but wasn’t going to ask.
“I hope you have a good day,” he said. “Don’t forget your bike this time.”
He offered a soft smile and a wink.
Blush rose to my cheeks as I thought back to yesterday. I managed a small smile in return.