Just Like Fate (15 page)

My eyes wander to the dry-erase calendar pinned to Chris’s
wall; it’s just two weeks before Thanksgiving. I’m on Chris’s
bed and he’s next to me, strumming his guitar quietly, pretending not to listen as I hold the phone to my ear. My stomach is in knots—when my mother answers, I close my eyes.

“Hi, Mom,” I say. She’s silent for a moment, and it surprises me. I’m not sure why, but I guess I expected her to
fall over herself, saying how much she misses me. When she
doesn’t, there’s a small tug of regret. “Sorry I haven’t called,”
I say.

“I’m sorry too,” she responds softly. “Is everything okay?
Are you okay?”
I lean back against the wall, and Chris adjusts the strings
of his guitar instead of playing anything. He’s the one who
forced me to call, saying that he wouldn’t come to Thanksgiving dinner with me until I told my mom about him. I didn’t
have the courage to tell him the entire story behind my rift with
her. For all he knows, we’re a little distant, my sister sucks, and
my brother is the link between us. But I haven’t told him about
how I left Gram the night she died. I let him assume that she
died before I went to the party.
“I’m good, Mom,” I say. “I wanted to call you about
Thanksgiving.”
She seems to hold her breath and then, “Have you decided
to spend it with your father?”
“No, actually,” I say, “I was hoping I could come to your
house.” My eyes start to tear up, a weight lifted off my chest.
When my mother starts talking again, I know she can feel it
too.
“I’d love that, Caroline,” she says. “We’d all love to have
you here.”
I smile and glance over at Chris, who’s watching his guitar, but his lips are upturned as he eavesdrops. “Do you mind
if I bring someone?”
“Of course not,” she says. “Simone?”
“Well, yes, Simone. But someone else, too. His name is
Christopher.” Chris wrinkles his nose at the use of his full
name.
“Oh.” My mother sounds kind of stunned. “Uh, sure. Is
he . . . a friend of yours?”
I may be blushing when I answer. “I guess. He’s also my
sort-of boyfriend.” Chris’s eyes snap up to mine when I say
this, but I’m waiting for him with a smile. “Or like my real
one,” I correct.
“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” my mother responds
quietly. “But yes, I’d love to meet him. Just promise me you’ll
stay for dessert. I’m making Gram’s favorite—pumpkin
cheesecake.”
There’s sorry in her words, sorry that spreads through
me and injects me with her grief. Our grief. “I promise,”
I say, thinking that even though we’re still so far apart, my
mother and I have things in common, have people in common. “Mom,” I say, beginning to fidget with the zipper of my
hoodie. “How . . . are you?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “I’m sad, Caroline. I’m just very
sad.”
I sniffle back the start of my tears. “Yeah. Me too.” Chris
reaches over to take my hand from my lap, and I appreciate
that he’s here. I’m glad that I can count on him . . . but not
depend on him. This is my own mess to clean up.
“I’ll see you soon,” I say to my mother.
“Good-bye, Caroline.” And for the first time since my
grandmother died, I feel like I’ve made my mom happy. As if
maybe I’ve changed a little, and this time for the better.
“You okay?” Chris asks. I look over and push his guitar to
the side so I can get closer to him. I lean in to kiss him, pause,
and then kiss him again.
“Thanks for bullying me into calling,” I murmur as he
pulls me onto his lap. “And we only have about five minutes
before Simone gets here.”
“Then you should probably stop talking,” he says, kissing
my jaw, my neck. I smile and thread my fingers through his hair.
It’s like things are finally in place, and so I let the happiness overwhelm me until Simone is knocking on the dorm room door.

To take her mind off her latest mistake with Alan Fritz—I can’t
even imagine how that one happened—Simone is up visiting
Clinton for the day. We’re lounging on a few floor pillows,
painting our nails, as Chris plays his guitar on the bed. He
has yet to let me hear the song he supposedly wrote for me,
but I don’t totally hate it when he sings—which is surprisingly
often. Especially when he’s lost in his guitar. It’s actually sort
of sweet when he does.

His crutches are collecting dust in the corner of his room
since he prefers to limp rather than actually use them. And as
the minutes tick by, Simone lets out a bored exhale.

“I just don’t know why I can’t meet a good guy,” Simone
says. “It’s not like I’m picking them based on looks—I actually tried to date a nice one. Turns out they’re all just closet
assholes.”

“Every single one of them,” Chris says, and grins at her.
“But hey,” he adds, hitting a chord off-key and then apologizing. “I know someone you might like.” I dart a look to warn
him not to get involved, but Simone is already smiling.

Chris notices my look, but we both know it’s too late to
back out now. Finding Simone a guy is never the problem.
Finding Simone a guy who can actually live up to her standards is.

“I think he’s rather handsome,” Chris says. “He’s a good
snuggler, too. His name is Ed, and I happen to know that he’s
currently single. I can call him if you want to hang out.”

Simone leans over and drags a long stroke of red paint
across Chris’s thumbnail. “Okay,” she says with a small smile.
“Let’s see if this Ed dude can keep up.”

Ed cannot keep up. After he came to meet us, the four of us
headed to the dining hall to eat. Chris and I were cautiously
optimistic at first, especially when Simone laughed at all of
Ed’s jokes. And he was definitely cute—dark longish hair, big
green eyes—but by the time we head back toward the dorms,
Simone’s interest level seems to wane.

“You should be using your crutches,” I tell Chris when he
reaches to hold my hand as we cross the street. “You’re going
to make it worse.”

“I don’t want to use them,” he says, glancing back to
where Simone and Ed are trailing behind us. “Crutches make
me look weak.”

“Linus,” Simone calls, pointing toward the student center. “Isn’t that your brother?”
I turn and see Teddy and Phil, bundled up in scarves and
hats, as they walk in our direction. Chris bumps his shoulder into mine. “Are you finally going to introduce me to your
brother?” he asks. “Or am I like your shameful secret?”
“You are definitely shameful,” I say, and then wave to my
brother to get his attention. He offers a nod, and then he and
Phil exchange a look.
“Hey, Coco,” he says when he reaches us. His nose is red
from the cold, and he darts an uncertain look at Chris. I say hi
and then turn to Phil.
“Dork,” I say.
“Loser,” he returns. Simone steps away from Ed like she
doesn’t want anyone to think they’re here together and says hi
to my brother and Phil before coming to stand on the other
side of me.
“Teddy,” I say, touching Chris’s arm. “This is Chris
Drake.”
Again Teddy and Phil make some telepathic comment
before Teddy smiles tightly. “I know who you are,” he says to
Chris.
To his credit, my boyfriend only looks surprised and
offers his hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says. “Your sister’s
told me a lot of good things about you.” But there’s a nervousness creeping over my neck as I watch my brother glance at
Chris’s hand and then turn to me.
“You’re not dating him, are you?” he asks.
Simone tenses next to me, and I think Chris is too stunned
to react at all. The only person doing anything is Phil, who is
shaking his head like some disappointed parent.
“Teddy,” I say very seriously. “Stop.” I can’t think of one
time in my life when my brother acted like an overprotective
jerk. Until now.
Teddy coughs out a disbelieving laugh. He marches over
and takes my arm to lead me a few feet away before laying into
me. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Uh, I’m sorry,” I say, not bothering to lower my voice.
“What are
you
doing? Have you lost your mind?”
“Clearly you have. This guy”—he motions toward Chris,
who’s turned toward us and is ghostly pale—“is a womanizer.
Coco, he’s probably screwed every girl on campus.”
“That’s not true,” Chris snaps. My brother ignores him
and goes on, and Phil takes a step closer in case he has to
intervene. I lock eyes with Simone for a moment as she stands
there, mouth gaping open. I’m not even sure where Ed is
before my brother is talking again.
“You’re not allowed to date him,” Teddy says, shaking his
head. “I know you don’t like being told what to do, but I’m
your brother. And I’d be a shitty one if I—”
“Teddy,” Simone says soothingly, stepping in front of him
and putting her hands on his chest. “Let’s ease off. I think
you’re going to pop a vein.” She shoots a panicked look in my
direction, but I’m still just standing here, staring at my brother
like he’s gone crazy. Only now . . . I feel a little sick.
“Let’s go,” I say to Simone, turning away quickly, but she
doesn’t follow—she’s trying to calm Teddy. My head is swirling with thoughts and suspicion. Everything had started to
work out; it was just like fate—that’s what Chris said.
I’m speed walking back to the dorm when suddenly Chris
is next to me, jogging to keep up although he has to take an
occasional hop to lessen the pressure on his injured leg.
“We should talk about this, Caroline,” he says flatly.
“Don’t run away from me.”
I stop short and turn to him. His eyes are wild, and I’m
not sure what exactly we’re doing. I don’t know what to think
anymore. So I just nod, my brow furrowed, and walk with him
back to his room. Simone texts to tell me she’s taking off and
that she’ll call me later to do a play-by-play on the drama.
I’m cautious, trying to keep all of the feelings out until I
can sort through them. I don’t want them to hurt me. I don’t
want to feel them.
When we get back to Chris’s room, he tears off his coat
and tosses it at his closet, pacing the floor like he’s about to
lose it. “I’ve never lied to you,” he says suddenly, as if I’ve
accused him. “I would never lie to you, Caroline. You know
that, right?”
Do I?
“And your brother . . .” He runs his hand roughly through
his hair as he considers his words. “I don’t know. I don’t even
know him. Maybe one of the girls I dated is friends with him
or something.”
“Have you slept around?” I ask. I’m not sure it matters,
as long as he’s not doing it now. But when he hesitates before
answering, there’s a sinking in my gut. Chris must see the
change because he walks over and gathers me into a hug, resting his cheek on the top of my head.
“I know it sounds bad,” he says, his breath warm in my
hair. “But I’m not some player. I didn’t lead them on—I’d
never do that. I wasn’t serious with any of those girls. I’ve
never been serious about anyone but you. Caroline,” he whispers, his fingers tickling absently up my spine as he pulls me
tighter to him. There it is again, that certain way he can say my
name. “My sweet Caroline.”
I hug him, closing my eyes against the doubt.
“You’re the only girl I want,” he says. “I love you.” He pulls
away to laugh softly, looking surprised at this own words. His
eyes are wide and vulnerable, as if a word from me can crush
him. “I’m totally in love with you,” he murmurs.
And although I feel it too . . . I can’t bring myself to say
it back. I can’t trust him not to hurt me. So instead of talking
anymore, I get on my tiptoes and kiss him.

“I might have to call the PDA police.” Simone glides up to my
locker just as Joel’s leaving. “Later, Ryder,” she says. He waves
and disappears. I touch my mouth, still warm from his lips.
Simone looks at me and rolls her eyes.

“I’m just making an observation.”
“Which is?”
“That you two are zero to sixty—there’s no slow lane. No

on-ramp. I just don’t want you to crash and burn.”
“Nice car analogy,” I scoff.
“I thought so,” she says with a hair toss.
“Maybe you should place a bet,” I joke, but it comes out

a little biting. At first, people gossiped about the kiss at the
party. Then they whispered about me being the wrecking ball
that brought down the house of Joel and Lauren. And finally,
they started placing wagers on how long we’d last.

“Never,” Simone says quietly. “Hey.” She waits until I look
at her. “You have everything you wanted,” she says. “I mean
if Joel’s constant hallway kisses are any indication, he doesn’t
care who knows how he feels about you.” She pauses. “All I
want for you is to be happy. I just wonder about the speed of
this thing. Like, maybe, take it a little slower?”

I shut my locker and start toward class. “We’re fine,” I tell
her. “It’s going to be fine.”
Probably sensing my annoyance at her admittedly legitimate concern, Simone complains—
again
—about being
grounded for Friday’s missed curfew, then changes the subject
to Felicity’s newest fashion accessory: a Slinky. As a bracelet.
As she rambles on, I get lost in my head, thinking about Joel.
About his kisses. About the satisfaction of knowing that I’m
his girlfriend, even if it comes packaged with a seemingly permanent position in the gossip-filtered spotlight. But mostly,
about how I
did
get everything I wanted.
As I turn into our math classroom, I have to shove off that
thought’s footnote:
If I got everything I wanted, then why am I left wanting more?

The week before the Electric Freakshow concert, I start to wonder if Joel’s been switched with an alien doppelganger because
he’s so . . .
happy
. Happy like I’ve never seen him. Happy like
maybe he’s never been in his life. Across the room in English,
he gives me actual, full-fledged smiles, as opposed to the half
smiles that looked almost painful for him to bring to the surface
before. There’s more fire in him—more bounce in his step. At
one point, I consider asking him if he started taking uppers.

“Groupie looks good on you,” I say with a laugh as we
stroll through the parking lot at lunch on Thursday. “I don’t
think I’ve ever seen you this pumped.”