27. Drew
TWENTY-SEVEN
DREW
Destiny (Holden)
Has anyone noticed that Drew seems to be having a more fun summer than the rest of us?
Angel (Roman)
I’m having an Italian summer with my wife, so that’s factually incorrect.
Destiny (Holden)
Let me correct myself, Drew is having a more interesting summer than the rest of us.
Crystal (Reese)
What’s happening in Drew’s summer that you know and we don’t know?
*gasp* Are you not sharing gossip with me?
Sassy (Drew)
Literally nothing is happening.
Destiny (Holden)
That’s not what it looked like the other night.
Kandi (Kai)
The other night?
Trixie (Ford)
Quick, someone check on Reese to make sure he hasn’t suffered a heart attack.
Angel (Roman)
Does this have something to do with Jules and her disastrous date?
Destiny (Holden)
You know about that?
Angel (Roman)
She told Vin.
Sassy (Drew)
Don’t gossip about Jules, she’d hate that.
Crystal (Reese)
Oooh
Trixie (Ford)
Did you just come to our Juliet’s defense? The same Juliet you can’t stand to be around?
Destiny (Holden)
That’s a thing of the past. They’re roommates now.
Before I can reply my phone starts to ring, Lavinia’s name displayed at the top. I debate hanging up, but she’ll just call back. With a heavy sigh, I answer the call.
“What’s going on with you and Jules?” She demands as soon as I bring the phone to my ear.
“Hello to you, too. How’s your summer been? Enjoying your trip?” I ask, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
“The men here love our mother and dad is seething with jealousy,” Lavinia says delightedly. “But seriously, what’s going on there?”
“Nothing is going on. Jules and I are getting along nicely. In fact, we’re leaving for Nantucket in an hour.”
It’s a half lie, but I’m not about to tell my sister about the obsession I have with her best friend.
I’m not going to say that the idea of her going on a date with another man had driven me to madness, or that I was relieved when her date went badly, or that I’m taking her to Nantucket so she can’t find more men to date.
The camp is over and we’re in the last phase of summer before everyone comes back and we get back to training before hockey season starts.
I know I don’t stand a chance with Jules and that I need to get over this obsession. Which I will. Eventually.
“I knew the two of you could be friends if you just tried!” Vin is full of excitement at the prospect of us being friends. “This makes me so happy.”
My stomach twists with guilt, and I remind myself that there are other things I hide from my sister on a daily basis so this isn’t that big of a deal. And I’m sure I’ll be over this like a quick cold by the time Lavinia is back.
Through the open door of the house, I see Jules moving around in the kitchen, Bailey trotting after her. Jules laughs when Bailey nudges the back of her legs and leans down to pet her.
I realize that taking her away so she can’t date isn’t the best way to get over this…thing. In my mind, it makes sense. Isn’t this how exposure therapy works? You surround yourself or do the thing you fear or hate and eventually you’re over it.
Yeah, but you’ve been exposed to Jules your whole life and now you’re obsessed.
“You’re back mid-August, right?” I ask.
“Yeah.” Lavinia sighs sadly. “I never want to leave, but stupid hockey season.”
I laugh in surprise. “I never thought I’d hear you say that.”
“I never thought I’d have a wonderful husband who talks to me in Italian and French and wants to show me the world. I think I’m finally realizing that hockey was a big part of my life, but it never had to be the biggest.”
“I’m glad, Vin,” I say, softly.
I really am. After her injury, she’d struggled for a long time.
She’d made hockey her whole identity and as a female athlete, she had to work twice as hard to be taken as seriously as I was.
It never sat well with me that I started playing hockey so I could be more like her and ended up making more money simply because people watch men’s sports more.
Which doesn’t change the fact that she’s ten times the player I can ever hope to be. Vin was born to play hockey and if her injury hadn’t put her out of the game, she’d still be making waves as an athlete.
“This is why I keep telling you to find someone,” she says. “We’re getting old.”
“We’re turning thirty-three in a couple of weeks. Our lives are just starting.”
“I mean, in terms of sports we’re getting old. Dad retired at forty, which means you’ve got another seven or so years before you’re going to be faced with the same decision. I don’t want you to be like me and feel empty without hockey.”
Bailey comes running out of the house and Jules follows, laughing as Bailey almost knocks me over. I crouch down to pet her.
“I have to go,” I say. “I need to take Bailey for a walk before we leave.”
I can sense Lavinia wants to say more, but she keeps quiet. “Fine. I love you.”
“Yeah, love you, too.”
I hang up and glance at Jules. She’s wearing a pale green dress with a deep v-neck that has lace edges. There’s a string along the bottom of the neckline to keep it from gaping open too much. I look away as my mouth fucking waters at the sight of those perfect tits.
I just told Lavinia we’re turning thirty-three and here I am getting semi-hard just by looking at some tits like I’m sixteen. The most perfect pair I’ve ever seen, sure. But I’ve seen plenty and I shouldn’t be reacting like this.
The thought of my sister and how she’s going to react if she ever learns of my sick obsession with her best friend is enough to have the fog of lust dissipate.
I kiss Bailey on top of her head and stand up, taking Bailey’s leash from Jules.
This has all the potential of being a very bad idea.
Jules likes to sing.
The moonroof is open, the front windows are down, Jules is sitting in the passenger seat with her large sunglasses on and a silk scarf wrapped around her head to stop her hair from flying. She looks like she's in a sixties movie, and she’s singing along to old Jesse McCartney songs.
I’ve never seen her this relaxed. Even when we drove to New York, I could hear her humming under her breath, but now she’s full on singing.
“Is my singing bothering you?” She turns to look at me.
“Would you stop if it was?” I ask. I glance in the rearview mirror to check on Bailey. She’s strapped in but her head is poking out the window. She loves a long drive.
“Not really,” Jules says. She has one arm out the window, moving it with the beat of the music. “We should stop at Norma’s before going to the house.”
When we were kids, we used to go to Nantucket every summer. Our parents ended up buying a house there ten years ago. They still come out every year and Lavinia and I have the keys so we can use the house whenever we want, not that we’ve had the chance to come out in recent years.
We always stopped at Norma’s Diner on the way to the house. It was a tradition.
“Sure.” I like the sound of we a little too much. Like we’re a unit, her and I.
“So, when do I get to see your stories?” I feel Jules looking at me and I focus on the road.
“It’s not stories. It's one story.” I try not to squirm.
I hadn’t wanted to tell her, but she’d looked so upset that I was rude to her.
I had no choice other than to tell her exactly what was bothering me.
I’d regretted being short with her as soon as I closed the door, but by the time I was ready to apologize, she was gone.
“Okay, when do I get to read your story?” Jules says.
“When we get to the house.”
“Why am I sensing that you’re trying to delay it so I’ll eventually forget or stop asking?” She’s so astute. Has she always been like this and I’m just noticing?
“I’m not. A promise is a promise,” I say.
She hums thoughtfully. “Why is it a secret?”
I signal to change lanes because the car in front of me is incredibly slow for no reason.
“I started drawing again a couple of years ago as a form of stress relief. The story just formed and I posted it with no intention of turning it into anything, but it kind of exploded last year.”
I glance at her and find her focused on me.
“I don’t post with any kind of consistency because during the season, I rarely get the time to draw. If I tell people, there will be expectations or disappointment, opinions.”
“And the thing which is supposed to be a stress relief will become stressful,” Jules supplies.
“Exactly.” I look at her. “Do you ever feel that?”
She laughs humorlessly. “All the time. Especially when I’m on deadline and I feel like everything I write is trash and no one is ever going to read it.
Or when a book doesn’t perform as well as I expect it to.
Art is very personal, you put pieces of yourself into it, maybe as a way to heal, but when it’s out there, you can’t do anything except bury your head in the sand and move on to the next thing. ”
I’m not sure what I’m healing from. Maybe from being told that I’ll never be as good enough at anything as my sister.
Lavinia was always the best at everything, got along with everyone, especially our teachers.
It was always harder for me and I hated the fact that it was always pointed out.
That instead of helping me, everyone, sometimes even my parents, thought comparing me to Lavinia would get me to do what they wanted.
As if we aren’t two very different people.
There’s a beauty mark on her right breast and I notice it because we’re sitting across from each other in the booth. As if I don’t have enough of a sick fascination. Sunlight streams in through the window, lighting up her hair and skin.
Jules turns to look out the window. There’s a beach across the street, the sky and water meeting in the distance, endless blue as far as the eyes can see.
How many years has it been since I’ve been interested in a woman like this? Two? Three? I can’t even remember. It’s all become a blur. Until, Jules. It’s not like I’ve never noticed her, but this is the first time I’m noticing her.
I’m noticing the way she pouts when she’s deliberately over something. I notice the way she likes to sing along to her favorite songs. The way she sleeps with her feet poking out of the blanket. The way she hates pineapples but won’t eat a pizza unless it has pineapples on it.
She’s like a story I’ve carried inside me my whole life, one I read a long time ago, and I’m finally remembering it.
Liz Phair comes on the speakers and I’m smiling even before Jules’s shoulders shake and she sings along to the song.
She’s definitely extraordinary.
“You’re a psycho, I agree with that,” I say, referring to the lyrics.
Jules scoffs. “I think you mean super goddess.”
“Have you consulted your therapist about your delusions of grandeur?” I ask with a laugh.
She raises her sunglasses and tucks them onto her head. Her eyes are as blue as the ocean and sky outside the window.
“Have you consulted your therapist about why you’re secretly obsessed with me?” she asks.
“There you go again, thinking I’m obsessed with you when I’m just trying to live my life,” I say, shaking my head.
The truth is, I might be just a little obsessed with her. It happened slowly and then all of a sudden. I didn’t get the time to stop myself.
“Your life revolves around fighting with me, so you admit you’re obsessed,” she says.
I set my hands on the table, leaning in toward her. “Juliet, if you want me to be obsessed with you, just say it.”
Her cheeks bloom pink and she crosses her arms, arching an eyebrow.
“I see what you’re doing and it’s never going to work.”
We’ll see about that. Every time she blushes, I think there’s a chance she might want me. There might be a possibility worth exploring.
Norma comes to take our order before I can reply to Jules.
“I gave food and water to Bailey,” she says.
“Thanks, Norma,” I say.
There’s a garden out back where people can leave their pets if they bring them.
Once Norma writes down our orders, she leans forward, bracing her hands on our table.
“Robbie has gone to LA to finally realize his dream of being an actor,” she says in a low voice. Her Jersey accent is still as thick as ever.
Jules gasps, her eyes wide. “No! But he’s a terrible actor!”
Norma rolls her brown eyes. “The whole town knows that, except Robbie himself. The poor thing thinks he’s the next Cary Grant.”
“What about Lacey?” Jules asks.
“She’s still working at the hardware shop, and now they’re getting a divorce because Lacey says she’s not packing up and moving to a new city at her age.”
“That’s terrible.”
The bell over the door chimes as another set of diner comes in and Norma glances their way, telling them to grab an empty booth. There’s only one left in the back.
“Let me take care of them and I’ll be back to tell you what they found in Dorothy’s kitchen.”
She ambles off and I turn to Jules in question, my eyebrows raised. “Who are all these people?”
“They live here, or lived in Robbie’s case.”
“How does Norma know you well enough to give you town gossip? How do you know them well enough to remember who they are?”
Jules shrugs, grinning at me. “I come here every year.”
“I didn’t know that.”
She turns, pointing at the third booth from the entrance. “Gemma and I used to come here every year for her birthday and sit right there. She’s the one who started the gossip tradition. After she died, Norma kept the tradition going with me.”
Her eyes fall down to the table beneath and I know she’s hiding her sadness from me.
I still remember the night she showed up at my dorm, drenched from the rain, looking for Lavinia.
My sister had just left my room because she had an away game the next day and some of the team was already leaving.
Jules was shaking and it was the first time I remember being truly scared because I knew something horrible had happened.
When I told her Lavinia wasn’t there, she’d just cried harder. After I asked her for the fifth time what happened, she’d finally admitted in a broken, barely audible voice that Gemma was dead.
A pedestrian was crossing the road after the light had turned red and she’d braked hard on the intersection. The oncoming car couldn’t stop in time. Both the pedestrian and the driver of the other car survived, but Jules’s world was torn apart.
I’d given her clothes to change into, hugged her the whole night while she cried. It was the first and only time we’d been that close.
We don’t talk about that night. I’m pretty sure Jules pretends it didn’t even happen.
“Who are Robbie and Lacey?” I ask, so she’ll look up at me again.
Her eyes lift to me and she smiles, even though I can see the shadows of her lingering pain. She starts to tell me all about the townspeople and their personal history and I’m surprised to realize how involved she is in their lives and this town.
She’s slowly flipping open the pages of her book for me, and I find myself falling into her world.