How I Lost You (5 page)

Surprised by his quick departure, I pushed myself up and chased after him as he bolted to the front door. When he turned, I reached to swoosh up his hair but he ducked and straightened his glasses. “Kya said she wants to go to the beach soon,” I said. “I know you can't resist glowing with whiteness in the sand with me.”

“We'll see,” he said. “Until we meet again,” he said the same way he always did when he left.

“See ya, James.”

The door closed behind him. My belly churned as if something were about to go wrong. Very wrong. Dad always told me never to ignore my feelings. Gut instinct, he called it. You'd make a good cop, he'd say. But Indie was going to be a cop. One child was enough for our family.

Something bad was brewing.

I could feel it.

 

Sweat beaded down my back and over my shoulders. I pressed my hands and feet into the yoga mat, my butt in the air in the downward dog position, contemplating my belly button, trying to stay focused instead of being hyperaware of the guy at the back of the class who kept sneaking looks at me. I was irrationally mad at him. His presence was interrupting the quiet that should have been in my head. I pretended it was him, not Kya, who had me upset.

Tina, the instructor, flowed into a plank and I glanced in the mirror at the boy's reflection. His dark eyes met mine and he smiled, but I quickly looked away and swooped down into plank.

I dripped bacon-smelling sweat on my mat, but instead of enjoying the grease cleanse and being in the moment in yoga, my mind and body weren't connected. When the class finally ended, I still had the little ball of anxiety in my belly. I rolled my yoga mat in record time, grabbed my towel and water bottle, and rushed out.

After a long cool shower, I wrapped my wet hair up in a bun, dressed, and left the change room. I slowed down when I spotted the boy leaning against the counter in the reception area, chatting with the owner. A warm smile lit up his face when he spotted me. I lowered my eyes.

“Hi, Grace.” He spoke in a low tone, slightly above a whisper. Part of yoga etiquette. Speak in low voices. “I played paintball with you and your sister yesterday.”

“I remember.” Levi. The boy with the temper. The badass. “She's my best friend. Not my sister.” I matched his low tone but smiled because he thought we were sisters. I'd always wanted a sister. Besides the obvious allure of sharing clothes, maybe a sister could help analyze the foreign minds of boys. Maybe share chores. Something other than Saturday morning breakfast. I always got to be the one to do the “womanly” stuff around the house. I'd never seen my brother scrubbing a toilet.

“Oh. I thought you were related.” As if he should know anything about me at all. He paused. “My cousin has a crush on her.”

Of course he did. That's probably what this conversation was about. To get information for his cousin.

“Tell him to get in line,” I said, but smiled to soften the message.

“He's already butting his way to the front. Trust me.”

I took a deep breath, appropriate given the wonderful smells that filled the reception area and the slogans about inner peace painted on the walls.

“So, you're into hot yoga as well as paintball?” he asked, changing the subject. Seems we both liked to challenge stereotypes.

“Grace has been coming faithfully since we opened,” Carly, the owner, told him, sparing me the need to say anything. Carly glanced at me. “Levi told me he was a regular at hot yoga in Canada. He moved here from Vancouver.” There was a slight buzz of excitement in her voice. “He's going to be going to your high school.”

I groaned. “Ugh. Don't remind me about school.” It started up in a couple of weeks.

“I know,” Levi said. “Summer goes by fast.”

I stared at him. Maybe he wasn't movie star good-looking, but there was definitely an appeal to him. Height. Confidence? “Did you like Splatterfest?” I moved past him to sit on the bench across from the shoe rack and slipped on my shoes.

“Yeah. Even though I sucked.”

“I've never tried woodsball. Speedball is faster.” I stood up.

“Grace is one of the best female paintball players in Washington state,” Carly said.

Actually, Carly had never seen me play, but it didn't stop her from trying to pimp me out.

“Well, since it's my dad's place, I'm kind of obligated to be good at it, Carly. But I'm hardly the best.” I pulled my yoga mat strap over my arm and hiked up my bag.

“Not true. She's amazing,” Carly said.

I rolled my eyes. “Kya's better.” I gave Carly a look, but she grinned and subtly lifted her eyebrow higher. I looked from her to Levi.

She followed my gaze and gave Levi an even bigger smile, as if we were an interesting TV channel she was watching.

Levi was focused on me though, and he shifted on his feet. “So, um, I was wondering if you were busy right now?”

“Uh.” I couldn't think of anything to say.

“I told him you weren't seeing anyone,” Carly said, as if she was being helpful announcing this fact to both of us.

“Carly!” My face burned and I ducked my head down and stared at my sandals.

“Oh man,” Levi said. “Awkward.”

I glanced up, and he was grinning but his cheeks were red. It made me feel less like hiding in my room with my covers pulled over my head.

“You want to grab a coffee?” He pointed out the door to the coffee shop across the street. “Over there?”

Carly giggled but we both ignored her. The front door opened, and I watched an older woman walk in, pink yoga mat in her hand. She slid off her shoes and went to the reception desk to scan her tag.

“Uh.” I was used to my role as sidekick girl. The one boys talked to when they wanted more info about Kya. Hazard of having a gorgeous best friend but comfortable. Easy.

“You should go, Grace,” Carly said, breaking into my stupor after she'd scanned the woman's tag. The woman glanced at Levi and me with a tiny smile on her face and slipped past Levi toward the change room.

“Levi doesn't know a lot of people in town. It would be nice for him to know someone when he starts school.” Carly grinned, her happiness to be playing a part in the coffee date scribbled into her features. I remembered her telling me she used to own a dating service before Breathe Hot Yoga. I kind of wanted to strangle her. Never mind
namaste
.

I also wanted to point out that a guy who asked a stranger out for coffee and made friends with the owner of a yoga place on his first visit probably didn't need much help getting to know people. “Um, sure,” I said. “For a little while. I have to get to Splatterfest soon.”

“You working?” he asked.

I wasn't. I needed to pick up my sweater and I wanted to see if Kya had been by, but he didn't need to know that. Levi held the door open. I slipped by him. He smelled good. Clean. Freshly showered. His dark hair was still wet on the ends.

“See ya, Carly,” he called.

She completely ignored my narrowed eyes.

Levi and I stopped at our cars to put away our yoga gear and then walked on to the coffee shop. Levi carried the conversation while I gave dorky one-word answers. When we got to the coffee shop, he insisted on buying, took my order, and suggested I find a table. I headed to an open spot, threw my zebra purse underneath, and sat. Music filtered through speakers in the ceiling but I heard Levi and the barista chatting as she got the order ready. Soon Levi joined me and placed my usual lavender tea in front of me. Then he plunked down a mug of hot chocolate with whipped cream and chocolate drizzles opposite me. It smelled heavenly and I wished that I'd gone with the same thing. I always forgot about other choices and went with the familiar.

“You want to switch drinks?” he asked, nodding at my drink as he sat. My face must have given me away.

I shook my head quickly. “No. That's okay.”

“You sure?”

I nodded.

“You're worried about calories?” he asked.

My face warmed. He laughed aloud and put up his hands in defense. “No. I did NOT mean it that way. Obviously, you don't have to. Arrgh.” He slid his hot chocolate in front of me. “I need to take some lessons in talking to girls.”

My cheeks cooled to pink. “You don't have to give me your drink.”

“It's the least I can do. I can't believe I said that.” He took my lavender tea, sipped at it, and his nose squished up as if he'd swallowed medicine. “Mmm,” he said.

I smiled. “Lavender tea one of your favorites?”

He coughed but grinned even as he choked. He pointed to the drink he'd slid in front of me on the table. “At least drink the hot chocolate. I didn't mean to be a jerk.”

I took a sip. Foam tickled my lip and I wiped it away self-consciously. It tasted delicious. When I glanced up, he was staring at me, a half smile turning up his lip. “I have a confession to make,” he said.

My brows pressed together, expecting something horrible.

“I heard you were going to hot yoga today. I mean, I honestly did go to hot yoga in Vancouver. It helps with stress and with breathing, for running.” He paused, took another sip of tea, and grimaced. “But today, I was hoping to see you.”

I stared into the whipped cream, at a loss as to how to respond. “You run?” It's not what I wanted to say.

Do
you
like
me? Do you think I'm pretty? Is that stress related to the temper your cousin mentioned?

“Actually, I play soccer.” He looked kind of mortified. “Do I sound like a stalker?”

“Yes,” I answered with a straight face. He looked horrified and I laughed. “I'm kidding. But how'd you hear about yoga?”

“Kya said something.”

“She did?” I took a sip of hot chocolate and stared into it. “You know, usually guys want to meet her. Not me.”

“Really? I mean she's pretty and stuff. But she's more my cousin's type. Not that you're not. Pretty, I mean. Not Lucas's type, but, oh God, I need to stop talking.”

I laughed and shook my head, wanting to ask what his type was. Me? There was a pause in our conversation as my brain stopped functioning. Jazzy music played in the background.

“So. Tell me about paintball,” he said when it must have become glaringly apparent my ability to converse without prompting no longer existed.

I took another sip of hot chocolate to buy myself time. “Why I play? I love it.”

“Yeah. You're good. But how'd you get into it? It's kind of different. For a girl, I mean. No offense. I think it's hot.” He grinned and then tried another tiny sip of tea.

My stomach swooped. Hot? “My dad owns the place.” I smiled. “He got me and Kya into it.” For a very particular reason, but Levi didn't need to know about that.

A swarm of moms buzzed noisily into the coffee shop, each pushing a stroller the size of a shopping cart, talking among one another as they lined up to order drinks. The babies were quieter.

I turned back to Levi. “Kya and I might play college paintball next year.”

His expression suggested he had no idea what I was talking about.

“NCPA. National College Paintball Association.”

“Seriously?” he asked.

“Yup. There's a team at Seattle University. The Lady Grinders. All female. They're amazing. We're going to a party in a week to meet the players.”

“That's cool.” He tapped the side of his head with his finger. “You're already thinking ahead. Your future.”

I smiled. “Not really. I have no idea what I want to do with my life. But since I'm expected to go to college, I might as well play paintball while I'm there, right? My parents are pretty good, but they don't want me to become a contract killer.”

One of the babies in a stroller chose that moment to wake up with a curdling scream, and we both jumped and then laughed.

“Contract killer?” Levi asked, turning back to me.

“Pro baller. Contract killer. Not exactly like being a cop, right? Or a lawyer, like my mom used to be. But if I get on with the Grinders, I figure I can give it a whirl and worry about the rest of it later.” As soon as I said that, I wanted to pluck my words from the air. I'd never admitted to anyone that I might want to go pro. Not even Kya.

A mom with a long brown ponytail expertly whipped her crying baby out of the stroller and jiggled it around. The crying stopped immediately. She didn't even break her conversation with her friend.

Levi nodded and rubbed his chin. He looked intrigued by my confession, not disgusted or even bored. “What about you?” I asked to switch the spotlight off my lame ambitions.

“Ironically, I'm thinking of taking a gap year after graduating. Traveling. My parents aren't impressed.”

“Why ironically?” I glanced at his face, and when our eyes met, my stomach swooped again.

“My parents moved to China. They wanted me to go with them but I didn't want to.”

The chatter of moms got louder. I glanced at them and then back at Levi.

“They'll be working eighteen-hour days and would have left me to make my own way in a country where I don't even speak the language. I want to travel on my own terms.”

“That's why you're in Tadita?”

He glanced over at the moms. “Mostly, yup. It's weird, not being with them, but they still control my life as much as possible. They make me Skype every couple of days.” He took a tiny sip of tea, made a face, and caught me watching. We didn't take our eyes off each other. My face warmed and I cursed my fair skin. Blushing was impossible to hide.

I imagined my parents moving to China and leaving me alone with relatives, but it didn't compute. Another baby screech broke up our staring contest. I watched a mom pluck a baby out of the stroller and rock it in her arms. I sent a silent thanks to the baby for the distraction. “Are you and Lucas close?”

He laughed. “Not so much,” he confirmed. “Lucas and I are different.”

Thank God, I wanted to say, but resisted.

“How?” I asked, aware of my nosiness.

He shrugged but didn't elaborate.

“Well,” I said. “It's not so bad in Tadita. I mean besides having to do your senior year at a new school. That probably sucks for you. I'll show you around if you like.” My cheeks heated again, imagining how stupid I sounded. Did I really offer to be his school buddy like we were in fifth grade? I cleared my throat and coughed.

“That,” he said, “would be awesome.”

My cough died and I hid my smile. “So, um, how come you joined the league at Splatterfest?” I asked.

“My aunt thought it would be a good idea. She's trying to encourage a relationship between Lucas and me. And since I have no friends.” He leaned back in his chair. Based on his expression, he didn't seem too bothered by it.