Ever After Drake (14 page)

And I keep catching him looking at me.
It’s not all the time. And he’s not being gross about
it.

I feel horrible. He’s sweet, and
timid, and shy, and had I not been wrecked by finding perfection
two months ago, he might have had a shot at catching my
attention.

But I can only smile sadly whenever I
catch him looking.

I try very hard not to look at him too
often though. It just makes my insides hurt.

Instead, I look for Hannah and find
her and the art boy toward the back of the gym. She looks adorable
in a light blue dress that has sparkles that fade as they stretch
toward the floor. Not that it stretches far. It ends a good four
inches from her knees. Contrasting with her very girly dress, she
wears black fishnets and black army boots. She’s done her hair in
pigtails and curled the ends. I’m proud of her for being herself
and not dressing like every other girl here.

Art boy wears slacks and Chucks, and a
black shirt and a tie that has some kind of writing on it that I
can’t read from this far away.

They hold each other close for the
first twenty minutes of the dance. And then I spot him leaning in,
and he kisses her.

I realize then why dating is so scary.
Because in the end, you basically either end up breaking up, or
married. No wonder relationships are so terrifying.

As the end time of eleven o’clock
grows closer and closer, more and more students filter out of the
gym. I know I’m getting old and uncool when I’m a little nervous
thinking what other activities they might be leaving to do. They’ll
find other happenings, like drugs, or alcohol, or sex. Not all of
them are like that, but plenty of them.

I wouldn’t be here if kids their age
didn’t do those kinds of things. I am a result of a hook up. And
now I’m a woman looking for some guy who dressed up as a pirate at
some party.

I cringe thinking of the fact that I
was conceived twenty-four years ago the day before yesterday.
Gross.

We get the dance cleaned up quickly
and I start walking for the doors, tired and ready for bed when I
feel a soft hand on my arm. I turn to see Duncan behind
me.

“
Thanks for helping
tonight,” he says quietly. He looks un-confident, his shoulders
pulled tight to his body, his head not quite held high. He looks
really nice in his suit.

“
You’re welcome,” I say,
putting on the best smile I can. “I was happy to help
out.”

“
Hey,” he says when I turn
to go. “I just wanted to say that I get it. I know you and Drake
had something special and things ended. I know what that’s like. It
took me a long time to get over my ex. But it’ll get better.
Eventually.”

“
Thanks,” I say, surprised
how much I mean it. “It’s…it’s hard. But it is getting a little
easier. Just a little.”

He gives me half a smile and a little
nod. “You’ll get there. Have a good night, Miss Ray.”

“
Night,” I say quietly and
turn.

As I drive home that night, I feel
something I haven’t felt in a while. A small sense of peace. Like
maybe, just maybe, I’ll survive this.

I pull into an open parking spot
around the corner from the front doors of my apartment building and
carefully climb out so I don’t step on my dress. I walk along the
side of the building and suddenly hear sirens. When I round the
corner, I see a crowd of people gathered.

“
What’s going on?” I say
to no one in particular. The sirens grow louder and louder.
Suddenly I catch the scent of smoke when the breeze shifts into my
direction.

“
Mrs. Batty Grandma
started a fire on her stove in 1C,” a young Hispanic woman says,
irritation overflowing in her voice. “It spread to the curtains
pretty quick and now she’s smoked out the entire
building.”

“
Is she okay?” I ask,
looking toward the mentioned apartment. I see a few small flames
lick through the windows. My eyes shift up a floor and over two
units. My apartment.

“
She’s sobbing over
there,” the woman says with a shake of her head.

Sure enough, there she is, crying into
some man’s chest who looks very uncomfortable about serving as her
human tissue.

The sound of the sirens from the fire
truck are deafening when they pull to the curb. A herd of firemen
pile out of the truck and assess the building before rushing in.
Water sprays against the windows as they put it out.

Not two minutes later a news van rolls
up.

In all, it takes them less than five
minutes to get the fire out. And people start getting interviewed.
I shuffle back and away from the cameras.

We all wait on the curb as they check
the rest of the building. Half an hour later, someone who looks to
be in charge comes out.

“
The unit the fire started
in is going to need some extensive repairs but the fire hasn’t
caused any structural damage. We’ll talk to your building manager
about the fact that the building’s sprinklers didn’t turn on. The
entire building is smoked out. We’ll get the windows open, but you
all are going to have to find somewhere else to stay
tonight.”

A collective groan jumps into the
air.

The firefighters talk to people a
while longer, but now everyone is on their phones, calling for a
place to crash tonight.

I grab my own phone from my purse and
am mentally thinking of who to call.

Dick and Skyler were going on a scout
camping trip this weekend. They’ll have the house locked up and I
don’t have a key. Mom’s place will be locked up too while she’s on
her business trip.

I dial Armando and hold the phone to
my ear. It rings five times and goes to his voicemail.

“
Crap,” I mutter as I hang
up. He’s probably with Anthony. They’ve gotten really serious
lately. They spend pretty much every waking moment with each
other.

“
Kaylee!”

My heart drops into my stomach and the
world grows very quiet as I turn.

Drake darts out of his car, his face
utterly terrified looking. He runs right up to me, his hands
grabbing my arms as he looks me over.

“
You okay?” he asks, out
of breath and high pitched. “I saw on the news there was a fire and
I could see the smoke from my place.”

“
Yeah,” I breathe, still
not sure if he’s actually here or if I’m having a really bad dream
about my apartment catching fire and him coming to rescue me. “It
started before I got back from the dance. They’ve got it out
now.”

“
Oh,” he says, his hands
dropping away from me. He shoves them in his pockets and his eyes
drop to the ground. His adrenaline reaction of coming to find me
seems to be wearing off. “’K, I’m glad. I kind of freaked for a
second.”

We stand there awkwardly for a moment,
neither of us knowing what to say.

“
So,” he says after a
while. “Can you go back into the building yet?”

I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly
freezing. It’s the beginning of November, and thinking I’d only
have to go from warm building to car, I didn’t bring a jacket.
“No,” I say, rubbing my hands over my bare arms. “It’s too smoky in
there. They said probably tomorrow.”

“
Do you have a place to
stay?” he asks.

I’m not sure what that is there in his
eyes and I can’t bear to analyze it.

“
Dick and Mom are both out
of town,” I say. Drake strips his jacket off and wraps it around my
shoulders. I give him an appreciative smile and tug it closer to
me. I nearly cry though when I’m enveloped in his scent.
“Um…Armando’s out with his boyfriend, I think. He’s not
answering.”

“
Want me to give you a
ride to the hotel down the street?” Drake offers. He’s stuffed his
hands in his pockets again, holding his arms stiff and tight to his
body against the cold.

I shake my head and try to ignore the
sting at the back of my eyes. “I don’t have the money.”

“
Right,” he says with a
little bit of a breathy laugh. “Teachers don’t have money for that
kind of thing.”

I try to laugh back, but it comes out
harsh and awkward sounding. “I’ve been poor all my life, but I’ve
never quite been homeless.”

Drake looks at me a long moment and I
wish I knew what he was thinking.

Does it hurt for him to breathe too
whenever he’s around me? Does he feel a little part of himself die
every time I meet his eyes?

“
You can stay at my
place,” he says quietly. Almost too quiet. I barely hear him over
the noise from the people that surround me. “I can sleep on the
couch.”

The sting behind my eyes grows worse
and I give the smallest shake of my head. “I think that’s a really
bad idea, Drake.”

Just saying his name is like a knife
in the heart.

He’s quiet for a moment and he stares
at me. His eyes redden just slightly. I’m sure he can see in my own
how hard this is.

“
I know,” he says, his
voice a hoarse whisper. “But where else are you going to sleep
tonight?”

“
The back seat of my car
is pretty comfy,” I try to joke.

But Drake doesn’t smile. “A car is no
place for a princess to sleep.”

“
And a couch is no place
for a prince,” I say without thinking.

“
I’m no prince,” he says
as his eyes drop away from mine.

“
And I’m not a
princess.”
And this isn’t a fairy
tale
, I think to myself.

“
Come on,” he says as he
turns. He doesn’t wait for me to follow as he heads for his rusted
out car. I hesitate for a moment. Something feels different when he
walks away. Drake’s presence and something I can describe as
nothing else other than
him
starts fading away instantly the further he gets.
And I am an addict who can’t resist it.

I follow him to his car.

The inside of the cab has grown chilly
by the time we climb back inside. Drake blasts the heat and pulls
away from the curb.

Neither of us says a word as we drive
the few blocks to his apartment. He parks in the parking lot, walks
around to my side of the car, and opens the door for me. I climb
out without looking at his face and we head for the
doors.

When Drake and I were
together, we were always out
doing
something. Dinner, movies, hikes. Something. We
didn’t spend a ton of time at either of our apartments unless I was
making dinner. I’ve only been to Drake’s apartment once.

This building is even older than mine
and the stairs groan and creak as we walk up the three flights. The
halls are dimly lit and the wallpaper on the walls is peeling.
Drake pulls his keys from his pocket and unlocks a door.

I remember back to what feels like
forever ago, Drake saying his place was only barely bigger than
mine, and it is. The wall his bed is pushed up against is all
exposed brick. A couch is pushed up against the foot of the bed.
It’s worn out and saggy. A small kitchen and an even smaller dining
table occupy one corner. There’s a door leading to a bathroom. It’s
cluttered with books, and a skateboard, and clothes are strewn
about random places.

But the thing that bothers me most is
the pack of cigarettes sitting on the table.

“
You smoke?” I ask, my
voice accusatory sounding.

Drake closes the door and his eyes
fall to the pack.

“
Uh,” he stutters as he
slips his hands back into his pockets. “I used to. Pretty much all
through college. I thought it helped me focus. I kept telling
myself I’d quit when I got my first teaching job. So I
did.”

“
And you picked the habit
back up?” I ask. I have to admit to myself that I’m looking at him
a bit differently now. I’m a harsh judge of people who willfully
put harmful things into their bodies.

He shakes his head and gnaws on his
lower lip. “It’s been tempting. I went to this gas station when I
first found out and everything fell apart.” His voice is rough and
shaky. “I walked out and was going to light up. But then I looked
up and saw you drive by. And I put it in my pocket, went home, and
then set it there on the table.”

His eyes are pained and still a little
red. This, being this close to him, knowing how we both feel, it’s
more than I can bear.

“
The last four weeks have
been hell,” he admits. “I’ve grabbed that box and headed outside
with a lighter more times than I can count. But I keep turning
around and putting it back there on the table.”

I give a little nod, feeling too
exhausted for words.

Drake takes this as a cue and turns to
the rest of the apartment. I take a few more steps inside and watch
as he pulls some sheets out and puts them on the couch and grabs an
extra blanket and pillow.

He opens a drawer of his dresser and
pulls a few things out. He turns and extends them out to me. “You
can sleep in these. They’ll drown you, but they should be
comfortable.”