Falling for the Ghost of You (23 page)

Early, the next morning, Zane wakes me up to let me know he's leaving.  I insist on walking him to the garage, though I try to use that time to convince him to stay longer.  Of course, he can't, and I have to be at school in a couple of hours, anyway. 

Zane's dad has a garage full of shiny toys, and I doubt he'll miss the sleek back motorcycle Zane decides to commandeer.  He gets the keys from a safe hidden behind a glass display of a signed motorcycle helmet.  I don't know or care whose signature it is, I'm so tired right now!

"Are you sure you're okay to drive?"  I ask Zane for the fifth time as he straddles the bike.

H
e takes a pair of sunglasses and slips them on.  "Sure," he says with a lazy smile.  "I'll just think about you, and the sexual frustration will keep me awake."

"Oh, that's so sweet."

God, he looks so hot right now in his leather jacket, and on top of that dangerous looking motorcycle.  Like an ad for sexy smelling cologne.  Yummy.

Zane gestures me closer by crooking his index finger.  I wrap my arms around his waist.  He cups my face with both hands, and claims my mouth in a surprisingly gentle kiss.

"Thank you," he says softly, his face just a couple of inches from mine.  "I remember who I am when I'm with you."

Serious Zane is just as appealing as the playful one.  I try to stare into his eyes through his dark lenses. "That's...a really weird thing to say."

"Yeah."  He flashes a wry little grin.  "Maybe I'm just too tired to know what I'm saying."

"Huh," I say.  "You're a spy, aren't you?  That's why you wear contacts and dye your hair."

I'm only half-kidding.

"You got me.  I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you.  Later, Violet."

After he drives off, I push the button to lower the garage door, mulling over the secrets Zane could be hiding.  Does it have something to do with his past?  He never talks about it, never gives me anything but vague generalizations about his high school years.  I wonder what happened.
  Does it have anything to do with his mother’s suicide?
  Does Bill know about it?

Or maybe I'm just making this out to be bigger than it really is.  Maybe the conversation I heard had something to do with work, and nothing to do with me at all.

God, I hate lies.  Especially when I lie to myself.

******

Chapter 22

I barely make it to school in the morning.  I only have time to brush my teeth and throw on some clothes, then I'm running out the door.    Lauren calls to tell me she's got the flu and will be in bed all day, so I don't find out till I get to school that my shirt is inside out.  People keep asking
me if I'm hung over, and I just say yes to make them go away.  Pretty soon rumors are swirling around school about me being stupid drunk at a college frat party.  I don't care.  Lots of things have been said about me before:  I'm a slut, I got implants, I tried out for Playboy, I'm adopted...blah, blah, blah...

Come to think of it, that's probably why I have no school spirit, and couldn't care less about this place.  It's a crappy experience, especially for someone with a b
ad attitude.  And I never deny a rumor, I just change
it enough to be confusing.  When kids would come up to me and ask me if my boobs were real, I would tell them I was adopted.  It confused the
gossip train—th
ose guys are easily confused, and stone stupid.

I make it to English a few minutes early, so I pull out my
Chem
book.  I can't remember, but I'm pretty sure there's a test today.

I'm flipping to chapter nine when Matt stops by my desk.

"Hey, V," Matt greets me with a casual smile.  Like he hadn't cheated on me, then avoided me since school started.

My stomach does a funny little flip, but I no longer feel the strong urge to flush his head down the toilet.

Still not my favorite person, though.

"Hey, Matt," I mutter, self-consciously straightening my shirt.

He seems relieved at my civil reply.  "So did you start on your paper yet?"

"Start?  It's done.  Isn't it due tomorrow?"

Matt's face falls comically.  "Oh, shit, really?  I didn't even start it!"

"Sucks," I say with a shrug.

"Yeah."  Matt is glum for a moment, then he brightens.  "I heard Tanner's gonna be out for, like, the rest of the month, and Jensen is subbing.  Maybe he'll give me an extension."

"Or," I say, shutting my
Chem
book.  "You could just whip it out tonight."

Okay, that sounds funny.  I realize this as soon as the words come out of my mouth.  By the way Matt is grinning right now, I probably slipped a "penis" in there somewhere.

"So, I hear you're going out with some college guy," he says, changing the subject.  He half-sits on my desk the way he used to when we were together.  I want to kick him off badly.

"Zane's not in college, he works for
Cronus
," I say somewhat snootily.  "He's a software engineer."

I can't help it.  The best revenge you can get on your cheating ex is to replace him with someone about a hundred times hotter
,
and more successful.  And if that's a petty sentiment...well, I'm a petty kind of girl.

"Wow, you're moving up in the world, huh, V?"  Matt pats my arm good-naturedly.  "But then you were always too good for us high school jerks.  I always knew some guy would steal you away."

I look up at him. "Really?  So that's why you dumped me?"

He stares down at his hands uncomfortably.  "Well, kinda, actually.  It was pretty stressful dating you.  Every time we went out, I felt like I had to kick some guy's ass who was staring at you.  I was just waiting for you to realize you were way out of my league."

What a bunch of crap.  Did he forget the part where he cheated on me?  Ugh.

"Okay," I say to him, opening my book up again.  "Thanks."

Matt just sits there, staring dreamily at my chest.  I have to clear my throat loudly.  I tell
him that it looks like Rachel—w
ho is staring
at us anxiously from her desk—w
ants to talk to him.  He flushes and hastily excuses himself.

That was weird.  I start an imaginary conversation with Zane in my head about the experience.  We both decide Matt is an ass.

"Hey, Violet."

The deep voice startles me out of my daydream.  I look up into a pair of twinkling hazel eyes.

"Oh, uh,
hi, Mr. Jensen," I stutter, surprised to be singled out.

He winks at me before making his way to the front of the room to call attendance.

Okay, that was weird.  I didn't even think he knew my name.  Maybe he heard the wild frat party rumor, too.  Oh, well.

If it persists, I think I'll start spreading the word that I'm donating a kidney to a long lost sister.

The rest of November officially sucks.  I've got four different projects
due around the same time.  W
hy
do teachers do that?  Do they want to see us fail?  Our
English project is worth half our grade and Lauren and I can't agree how to tie in the six books we've been assigned to cover.  She's being so diffi
cult lately, I can hardly get a hold
of her.  She must be tutoring half the school, with how often she's gone.

Work is a zoo.  We ge
t three new high needs residents, including a whee
lchair bound woman named Marge—while sweet as can be—w
orks the call button like a buzzer on a game show.   I'm in her room every five minutes, and it throws off my whole schedule.  I have to run to get everything done on time, which leaves little time to hang out with Helize.

To top it off, Zane is tied up with
some special project at work—s
ome new software that needs to be ready for launch by the beginning of December.  I haven't seen him since the night he stayed over.  He's missed all the pre-wedding events, and Mom is starting to freak out that he'll miss the actual wedding.  She's already a nervous wreck, and guess who has to hear about it?

So I've been a bit grouchy lately.  Okay, a lot.  Zane missed Thanksgiving, which sucked.  All of M
om's side of the family manages to make it down—and since the wedding i
s
in eight days, they’ve been
staying with us.  So now the house is full of
Harringtons
. 

Maybe it's a good thing he couldn't make it.  Though I did tell him abou
t the highlight of the evening—
Great Grandma Frances cornering Bill in the kitchen with a spoon and a (clean) adult diaper.  The look of terror on Bill's face was...sublime.

Great Grandma's a little nutty.

We've been fighting a lot, lately
—Zane and I.  I'll admit, most of it is
due to my insecurities.  I can't help but obsess over what Zane's doing at the moment.  Is he eating dinner alone like he says he's doing?  Is he really still at work at eight at night?  Why can't he spare a few hours to make it to the rehearsal dinner?

My imagination starts going wild, and Zane gets exasperated.  Especially since I don't come rig
ht out with what's bugging me.  E
ven though we both know.  But the sick thing is...I kind of like starting fights with him.  It's devastating, exciting...foreplay.

I know.  I'm a freak.  God, I can't wait to see him
again

******

Chapter 23

Mom's wedding...

The day starts out cloudy with a cool breeze.  Mom is freaking out, worried that it will rain, even though the wedding planner assures her they can easily move the ceremony into the great hall if even a tiny drop of rain dares to fall.

She's driving me crazy. Mom—n
ot the wedding planner, that is.  She refuses to let me leave her side
for even a minute.  She is
ridiculously nervous
,
and shaking like a leaf. 

She looks beautiful, despite her nerves.  Mom's wearing a simple white sheath dress that doesn't overwhelm her delicate figure.   She keeps her makeup minimal and natural-looking, her pale blonde hair pinned up with a white lily.  I love her classy elegant style.  It's what I'd want for my own wedding.  Assuming I'd ever get married.

The wedding is being held at Woodburn Estates, in the fairy garden.  Vibrant exotic flowers bloom everywhere and colorful twinkle lights are
subtly
woven through branches and wrapped
around old fashioned lamp lights.  The big white gazebo drips with lights and flowers,
and Jeri, the wedding planner,
informs us that most of the guests have been seated.

"You look so lovely, Violet," Mom says, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Don't cry," I warn her, handing her a tissue just in case.  "And thanks.  You look amazing
, too
."

She carefully wipes the corner of her eyes, then waves a dismissive hand.  "Thanks, love.  At my age, I just hope I don't look too ridiculous.  Oh, have you seen Jane?  I found some earrings she can borrow."

I grab my phone and ask Jane to come to our cottage.  Then I text Lauren for the fifth time.

Me:  Is he here yet?

Lauren:  Haven't seen him.  Don't worry, he'll be here!

I sigh.  Zane can't miss the wedding.  I will kill him if he does.

To distract myself, I check my reflection in the full-
length mirror.  I love my dress.  It’s
a strapless dark blue jersey material with a full knee length skirt.  My hair is down in loose curls, one side pinned up by a glittering barrette made by my grandmother.  I wish I could wear Zane's bracelet, but today is so not the day to have the attention focused on my wrist.

I feel sophisticated and glamorous for a change.  I wonder what he'll think of me.  It's going to be so hard to pretend he's just my future step brother.  How am I going to pull that off in front of my family?  What if I blurt out something completely
inappropriate again?  I might—i
t's been known to happen.

Worry and doubt swirl in my head until I am nervous as Mom.  We stand by the window, shaking like leaves in the wind, and jumping whenever anyone tries to talk to us.  Then Mom chokes on a mint, and I unnecessarily perform the Heimlich maneuver on her—unnecessary because she spit the mint out as soon as she started choking.  Fortunately, I don’t break any of her ribs, and we end up laughing hysterically about it.  Not sure why.

Before we are ready, Jane and Jeri are ushering us to the gazebo.  On the way, I text Lauren.

Me:  Do you see him??