36. Polaroid
36
Polaroid
WINTER
I’ve never run out on Haze before. I’ve never woken up, seen his adorable sleeping face, and snuck out. He’s always been the one sneaking out on me. Lying naked next to him, I consider my escape routes and rate each of them from easiest to most likely to get caught. Sleeping safe and sound, Haze holds me tightly against his chest. So tightly I’m terrified the tiniest move will wake him. His embrace is warm, reassuring, and it pains me to have to leave it.
Last night was out of this world. Breathtaking, incredible, intoxicating. But because it was amazing, doesn’t mean it changes anything about the year we spent apart. Because I admitted to still loving him, doesn’t mean we can get back together. He’s still searching for Marcus. Why else would he have stayed in Canada? He’s chasing his revenge, that’s why.
In other words, we’re still a lost cause.
I have a shift at the hotel in a few hours. If I’m lucky, I’ll be able to catch a cab home and shower before work. Hopefully, I won’t run into Allie or the others when I go up. Pressing one last, soft kiss to Haze’s cheek, I struggle out of his hug and throw my clothes back on as quietly as I can. I walk to the door, pushing down the pain associated with the mere thought of leaving him behind. I can’t go through this again with him. I won’t. And I might’ve let myself forget about the colossal bump in the road to our happy ending when we went at it against the door last night, but it’s time to face the music.
And our song?
It sings to walk away.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Allie stresses, parking her car in front of the oldest of apartment complexes. When I asked her for a ride, I had no idea she would end up making this harder for me. I love this girl with all my heart, but she’s even more nervous than I am, and it’s driving me nuts.
She buried me under a mountain of questions about Haze the instant I got into her car. I didn’t tell her a thing about what happened last night, but I didn’t have to. Turns out, she knew we were in there when she locked the door. She heard us talking when she came down. She even told Kass, Will, and Alex not to take my calls. I considered murdering her for five minutes, then decided I needed a ride more than a dead best friend.
“Yes, I’m sure,” I breathe out. I understand where she’s coming from. Me? Purposefully getting anywhere near Lauren Kingston after what she did? If you’d told me I’d find myself in front of her new place a few days ago, I would’ve laughed in your face. But after I got out of work early, I met up with Judy for a bridesmaid dress fitting. We talked about everything and anything. Somewhere along the twists and turns of our conversation, she convinced me to confront my mom about an issue that’s been gnawing at me my whole life.
My biological father.
Hearing Lauren bring him up on Haze’s recording only increased my curiosity, and the woman may not be a part of my life anymore, but if there’s one thing she owes me, it’s a goddamn name.
“Thanks for the ride.” I reach for the car door.
“Do you want me to wait out front? I can drive you back to your dad’s after,” she offers.
“Would you? It shouldn’t be too long.”
“Of course. I’ll be right here.” She nods.
I smile gratefully. Our friendship is slowly but surely getting back on track.
“You’re the best.” I climb out of her car and walk toward the building hesitantly.
My phone goes off in my pocket.
Unknown Number: I can’t believe you left me butt naked and asleep. Kendrick found me. Not cool, Kingston.
The dopiest grin of all time spreads across my face.
How did he even get my new number?
I do feel bad about leaving him like that, but I couldn’t have been there when he woke up. If I’d so much as seen his smile, heard his voice, kissed him, I would’ve wanted to stay, for good, and the last thing I need is to get sucked into this vicious circle with him again.
Without texting back, I shove my phone inside my pocket and enter the unlocked building. Apartment 11 , I repeat to myself as I drag my feet down the hall. I come to a sudden stop in front of mommy dearest’s door and knock.
Maybe she’s not home.
I consider running back to Allie for a second. Then noises flare on the other side.
I hear her distant groan. “Just a minute.”
Someone’s in a good mood.
The door swings open and a complete stranger comes into view. The woman before me is merely a shell of the person I knew, a pale copy. My once perfectly neat mother is wearing an oversized, stained gray T-shirt and joggings. Her hair is a mess, and a cigarette dangles off her lips. Since when does she smoke?
“Winter,” she says coldly and draws the lit cigarette away from her mouth. “What are you doing here?”
I notice an empty liquor bottle on the low table in the living room from over her shoulder. So much for getting sober to win Maika back, huh?
“Just thought it was time we had a chat.”
She raises an eyebrow. “About what?”
“Can I come in?” I’d rather not have her tell me about my biological father in the middle of the hallway.
She doesn’t seem too pleased by my request but grants it anyway, sidling aside to let me in. Her apartment isn’t doing much better than her appearance. Don’t get me wrong, it’s well decorated, just so incredibly messy that I debate on asking her if her roommate is a fifteen-year-old teenager. She beckons to sit at the kitchen table. A cigarette butt holder containing at least five packs lies in the center.
“If you’re here to gloat and relish in my misery, don’t bother. You’ve already ruined my life.”
I bite back a scoff. I ruined her life? What about my miserable childhood? When do I get that back? How about my mommy issues? When do they go away?
“I’m not. I’m here to ask about my dad.”
Her face hardens.
“Don’t waste your breath. I’m not telling you anything.”
I sigh. “After everything you’ve put me through, after I spent my entire childhood feeling bad for existing, don’t you think you at least owe me that? I’m not asking for the moon here. I’m not even asking for a biography. Just his name.”
Unconvinced, she remains silent.
“Do this for me and you’ll never hear from me again.”
These seem to be the magic words.
She curses under her breath and gets up, venturing into one of the rooms of her tiny, clustered apartment. I hear her rattling through stuff.
Five minutes later, she’s back.
“Michael.” She hands me a faint, old-looking picture with writing on the back. “Your father’s name is Michael. But everyone called him Mike.”
I assess every inch of the photograph carefully. It’s a Polaroid, which I’d say was taken at some sort of fair from the colorful lights in the background. On the right is a laughing sixteen-year-old Lauren. Next to her is a smiling, brown-haired guy with dark eyes. He looks so obliviously happy, admiring my mom while she laughs her heart out. Man, they might have been young, but I would’ve believed any guy loved me too if he’d looked at me like that.
He’s a good-looking guy with unique features, not one of those people whose faces get lost in the crowd.
Crazy to think I come from him.
“He’s probably dead, if you ask me.” She shrugs. “He loved getting in trouble. Could’ve made it a profession.”
“Did he ever contact you again? After he left?”
“Not once. His friends just said he disappeared one day. Packed his bags and left town.”
“And his family?”
“Never met them. I was just a summer fling, remember?”
I nod.
“Thanks.” I mean it.
I rise up and hand her the photograph.
“You keep it. I never want to see his face again.”
I nod and walk over to the door. Sliding the picture into my coat pocket, I tell her goodbye—although what I really mean is farewell —and exit her apartment.
I check my phone as I walk down the hall. Numerous texts await me.
Haze: Winter?
Haze: Please don’t do this. You can’t just ghost me after last night.
Haze: I meant what I said. Every single word.
Haze: Fuck, text me back.
Haze: I’m not giving up on us. Not this time.
His last messages hit the hardest.
Haze: I’ll be at the park where I gave you Waze tonight at eight.
Haze: Meet me and we can figure this out.
Haze: Don’t… and I’ll never bother you again.