Delicate (24 page)

Trevor isn’t even looking
in
her direction, much less bothering with the fake smile he had plastered on this morning.

“Everything’s fine, Quinnlette
.
” I use the name that only her older brother calls her. I know she hates it. I do it subconsciously, but she knows something is up when I do.

“Right,” she says, not buying it. She starts walking toward us.

“No, seriously, I’m just not feeling well. Trevor was about to take me home,” I say. I flash what I hope will be a convincing smile and she stops.

“Okay, well…” She gives me a long, calculating look. “I hope you feel better.”

I nod and she wanders off down the hall.

“Can we please do this later?” I ask Trevor.

He looks at me and his eyes are empty.

“Whatever you say, Sydney.” I silently grieve for the way his stunning blue eyes used to make me feel. If I could just get a fleeting glance of the guy he was before, I might second
-
guess my decision.

“I just think that it’s best. For now.”

“Well, if that’s what you think.
I
think you’re going to regret it. But, hey, your call.”

“We’ll talk in a few days?”

Nothing.

“Okay, well, I guess I’m gonna go.”

I turn away from him. I almost expect to be yanked back and told not to walk away from him. I expect to be stopped. I expect the argument to continue. But he doesn’t.
It
doesn’t.

I leave campus. Knowing one thing for certain.

School and gym are no longer on the agenda.

-Twenty-two-

I spend an hour arguing with Maisy, trying to explain why she c
an
not have her group of friends over to stay both Friday and Saturday night. She totally ignore
s
the note from our dad and t
ells
me that she can do whatever she wants.
She makes
a big production of stomping around and slamming doors before coming downstairs to find out what we
’
re having for dinner.

I’m upstairs trying to organize my room when the pizza arrives.

“Maisy!” I yell. “There’s money by the door, can you get that?”

I’m half under my bed trying to fish out stray shoes and other odds and ends. No response, naturally. Another knock at the door.

“Ugh,” I groan. I shove myself out from under the bed. My knee
-
length pajama pants and white tank top are now covered in a thick layer of dust from under my bed. I glance into Maisy’s room as I run down the hall. She’s on the phone, of course.

I yank the front door open, and then, take a quick step back. Not pizza.

Grant.

He’s leaning patiently against the doorframe, dressed casually in dark gray lounge pants and a plain v-neck t-shirt. God, he manages to look effortless and gorgeous all at the same time.

“Hey,” I say, clearly taken aback by his presence.

“Hi. Sorry to show up without calling…” He seems nervous. It’s so uncharacteristic of him that it’s kind of endearing.

I laugh to camouflage my surprise. “I just thought you were the pizza.”

“If it helps, I did bring food.” He holds up a large white paper bag. “Jules has been cooking like crazy. With mom coming in tomorrow, you know. Anyway, with you and your sister here alone, I figured you could use something to eat. But, if you have food coming…”

“Please, there’s never enough food with that kid around.  That was really sweet of you.”

We stand there awkwardly for a moment. Before I stop being so damn inept and invite him in. He sets the bag on the kitchen counter and opens his mouth to say something, just as there’s another knock on the door.

“Hold that thought, I’ll just be a second.” I hold my finger up and race out of the room. I cannot
believe
that
he’s
here. My heart is hammering loudly in my chest. In my ears. All through me. I pay for the pizza and pause momentarily outside of the kitchen to calm myself.

“Okay, sorry about that,” I say. I set the box on the stove. I should call Maisy down and tell her that the food is here. I should…
b
ut first, I should thank Grant, right? Manners are more important.

“So, thanks for the food. That was really thoughtful.”

“You’re welcome. Honestly, it was my excuse to come by. You left school early…” He speaks slowly, trying to gauge my reaction before finishing. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I just…needed to know if you were all right.” His hands are shoved deep in his pockets. It’s an atypical stance for him—he usually radiates confidence.

“I’m fine,” I say. I inspect my nails. That’s a safe thing to do.

“Look, I know it’s not my place, Syd. I know that you love
him
…I know that you want
him
.” His words are pained. “And I understand if you want me to leave. But I just had to see you. I had to see for myself that you weren’t hurt.”

I lean against the cool countertop, unsure how to respond. I’m not sure that I love Trevor anymore. I don’t think I want him. And here’s Grant, standing in front of me, wanting to know if
I’m
hurt, when he so obviously is
because
of me.

“I don’t have a clue what I want.”

He nods. “That’s understandable. I know you’re going through a lot, Syd. I don’t mean to be unfair, or pile anymore crap on you.” He takes a few slow steps to close the space in between us.

“You’re not,” I lie. He is. Every movement he
t
akes away from me aches. But every step he takes toward me confuses me. My heart rate picks up again as he inches closer. He reaches for my hand and lightly strokes it with his fingertips.

“I just want you to be safe. And okay. And I can see that you aren’t.”

“I told you, I’m fine.” I can’t concentrate on anything right now. Not with him this close to me.

“What the heck?” Maisy’s voice cuts through the intensity as she stomps into the kitchen. I should have heard her coming. I jerk my hand away from Grant’s and spin toward Maisy.

“Hey, pizza’s here!” I say. My voice cracks with all of the nerves and other emotion spinning around in me.

“Obviously. Who’s this?” she asks. She nods in Grant’s direction.

“This is my friend, Grant. From school,” I say. Grant smiles politely at her, but she only scoffs in response.

“Friend. Right,” she mumbles under her breath. She pops open the pizza boxes and pokes at the pies like
they’re
completely foreign. “So, what’s in the bags?”

Grant doesn’t miss a beat and starts unpacking the food he brought over.

“We’ve got chicken
kabobs
, baked ziti
,
and chocolate mousse,” he says.  Now he’s speaking Maisy’s language.

Maisy’s eyes light up and she abandons the cardboard pizza boxes in favor of Grant’s buffet.

“Are you staying for dinner?” I
ask. Do
I sound as eager as I feel?

“Only if you’d like,” he says with a handsome smirk.

“Yes, please.”

“Friends!” Maisy snorts as she piles food onto her plate.

The three of us arrange our plates on the coffee table and turn on a movie. Honestly, I don’t remember the last time that I ate a meal with Maisy. On purpose. But she and Grant are getting along great. They talk about school and the movie and joke. It’s more happiness than I’
ve
seen from her in months, and I ha
ve
Grant to thank for it. I lean back against the sofa and listen and smile. Especially on Maisy’s birthday weekend, it feels like a gift.

When the movie ends, Maisy hurries to clean up her dishes and rushes out of the room to make a call.

“You don’t have to leave, Maze,” I assure her.

“I know. I have to call Darla,” she says.

“It was cool to meet you, Maisy. Happy birthday!” Grant says.

“You too, dude,” Maisy says. “And thanks. Are you going to be coming over again?”

Grant smirks. “You’ll have to ask your sister that.”

They bump fists before she turns and sprints up the staircase.

“Just give me a second.” I excuse myself to follow my sister.

“What’s up, Syd?” Maisy asks. She’s already on her bed, phone in hand.

“I just…I just don’t want you to think…” I have no idea what I’m trying to say.

“That you have two boyfriends?” she asks.

I let out a high-pitched, nervous laugh.

“Exactly.” I nod. “Grant and I are just friends.”

“Whatever, Syd. He’s cool. I like him.”

“I do, too
,
” I confess. Too much.

“So, he’s going to be coming over more?” she asks.

I rub my hand over the quilt on her bed. My grandmother made it for my mom a zillion years ago. What would either one of them think of what
’
s going on in my life right now?

“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” I say honestly.

“Oh.” She reaches for her phone again. “Well, your business.” She’s already scrolling through her phone. I guess that’s my cue to leave.

When I get back downstairs, I’m surprised to see Grant’s spot on the couch vacant.

My stomach drops. No way had he left without saying goodbye. I peek into the kitchen and he’s standing near the sink, drying a plate. All of the food
i
s put away, and it looks like
he’s
drying the last of the dishes.

Unbelievable.

“You really didn’t need to do all of that,” I say.

He turns around and tosses the dish towel onto the counter. He pushes a piece of hair up out of his face and grins.

“You know, you sure tell people what they should and shouldn’t do a whole lot.” He winks. And I’m a goner.

“Well, thanks. I haven’t seen Maisy that talkative in a really long time. She must really like you.”

“Does it run in the family?” he smirks. “I’m kidding, don’t answer that. She’s a great kid.”