Last Train Home (13 page)

I looked over and stared at Alex to show my distain for him having brought me up to this place, but he smiled at me and I couldn’t stay mad.

“So, you bringing Riley to
Kurt’s on Friday?” Lucas asked, popping a Cheeto into this mouth.

“What’s
going on at Kurt’s?”

“A party.
  My parents are going to be in Kansas City,” Kurt answered.

“Whadd
ya say?” Alex asked, looking over to me.  If I was being honest I would’ve said hell no.  I really didn’t want to hang out with Alex’s friends, but I couldn’t exactly tell Alex that so I lied.

“Sure,” I said
, shrugging my shoulders like I didn’t care, when I actually did care.  None of his friends, besides Adrienne and her crew of course, had really done anything to me, but I was still skeptical because if they associated with Adrienne, they must have some things in common with her.

I noticed Alex’s friends were starting to pack up their things and Alex was finishing the last of his pizza.  I glanced at my watch and saw our lunch period was almost over and I needed to go to my locker before my next class.

“I’m gonna head off.  I’ll see you in sixth period,” I said standing up.

“
Okay.  See ya in a bit.”  He smiled at me and I felt that all too familiar fluttering in my stomach and I instantly forgot that I was annoyed with him about the party.  What was with me?  What was it about this guy that made me melt whenever he looked at me?  I’d had boyfriends since I was fourteen.  I’d even dated Broady Castins back home in Boston for nearly a year, but I swear he’d never made me feel the way Alex did.  When I looked at him, nothing else seemed to matter.  Not the fact that I was stuck in this hellhole town.  Not the fact that Adrienne was determined to make my life miserable.  Not even the fact that he was dragging me to a party with a bunch of people I didn’t know and most likely didn’t want to know.  All that mattered was that he liked me.

Chapter Thirteen

“So, have you decided on a paint color yet?” Jesse asked me as we were walking together after last period.  Alex had been called away half way through class and he hadn’t come back.

“I’ve been debating back and forth between a dusty purple
, like my room back in Boston, or bright pink for a new beginning.”

“Wow, you’re taking it subtle then,” he laughed.

“Yeah, I’m kind of an understated person if you hadn’t caught on.”  He just rolled his eyes at my sarcasm as we continued down the hall.

“Do you
wanna go look at paint samples?” he asked.

“Right now?”

“Yeah.  I don’t have anything going on after school.”

“Um…” I stammered before he cut in.

“Gotta check with the man?” he asked, stopping in his tracks and looking at me.

“No,” I said defensively.

“Then what do you say?”

“I say yeah, let’s go.  I just
gotta put my books away.”

“Alright.
  I’ll meet you by the trophy case in a few.”

Jesse and I parted ways and I walked to my locker.  I put away my books and headed back towards the front of the school where I knew Jesse would be waiting.  As I walked, I looked around for Alex.  I hated to leave without saying goodbye, but I also didn’t want to hang around like a desperate loser in case he’d gone home or in case it didn’t matter to him if we said goodbye.  I glanced around once more though as I passed the front office and when I didn’t see him, I continued to the trophy case where Jesse was already waiting. 

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said
, searching as discreetly as I could for Alex again, but obviously not discreetly enough.

“The boyfriend’s sti
ll MIA?”

“He’s
not
my boyfriend,” I said quickly, bringing my eyes to meet his.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Nothing’s official.  Now c’mon, let’s go,” I said, tugging on his arm and leading him out into the crowded parking lot where everyone was rushing to their cars, anxious to get home. 

“So, where’re we headed?” I asked him once we were standing beside my Jetta.

“Just follow me,” he told me and then he walked over to his old brown Jeep Wagoneer.  It roared to life and sounded like a tank as he pulled out in front of me. 

Like everything else in the
town, the paint store was spitting distance from anywhere.  It was tucked between a flower shop and an appliance store on the main street of Carver that seemed like it was barely surviving.  There was hardly anything left in the old brick storefronts.  Across the street was a package store and a jewelry store was kitty-corner to that.  There seemed to be some other stores down the road, but I couldn’t tell what they were.  Other than that, there was nothing.

“It’s like a ghost town around here.  Very
Children of the Corn
,” I laughed after I met him in front of the paint store.

“Here we go again.  I get it. 
Carver sucks.”  He sounded frustrated and I knew once again my anti-Carver sentiment was annoying him. “I don’t get you sometimes.  You’re very vocal in your hatred for Carver, when as far as I can tell, most people here have been nothing but nice to you.”

“I’m sorry,” I
said quickly. “You’re absolutely right.  I need to keep my mouth shut.” He looked over at me and when he smiled, I knew he’d forgiven me.

He opened the door and we walked inside the paint store.  There was an old man in overalls and a cowboy hat chatting with the worker behind the counter.  They both stopped talking when the door closed behind us.

“Afternoon,” the man behind the counter said to us in one of the stronger drawls I’d heard since arriving in Kansas. 

“Hey,” Jesse
said, nodding towards the men.

“Canna help y’all find
somethin’?”

I felt myself smile as his words ran together so they slid out of his mouth in one easy motion.

“We’re just looking, thanks,” Jesse answered.

“Alright,” the
man nodded. “Lemme know if y’all need anything.”

Jesse nodded back and I followed him over to the large display of paint samples.  My eyes went directly to the pinks and purples and I started pulling out color strips.

“What do you think of this one?” I asked, holding up a fuscia swatch for him to look at.

“Hold on, let me put my sunglasses on.”

“Too much?”

“Yeah, too much,” he said
, grabbing it from me and putting it back in the display.

“How ‘bout this one?”
I asked, pointing to a soft pink.

“I thought we were painting your room, not a nursery, unless there’s something you’re not telling me,” he said
, gesturing to my stomach.

“Oh
my gosh, Jesse!” I said, punching him in the arm and he started laughing.

Then I looked down at the swatch and realized he was right.  It was a great color for a four-year who still dreamed of growing up to be a princess, but not so great for a seventeen-year-old who’d unfortunately discovered princesses only existed in fairy tales and life in general pretty much sucked. 

I put the sample back and kept browsing through the rainbow of colors, which were all starting to blur together so they looked like a crazy Andy Warhol painting.

“So are you leaning more towards the pink or the purple?” he asked as his finger ran down the samples.

“I don’t know,” I said, because I really didn’t.

It was quiet fo
r a minute as we kept looking and then Jesse turned to me and held out a sample.

“I don’t think this is exactly what you had in mind, but how ‘bout this one?”

I looked down at the swatch and smiled.  It was definitely not what I had been thinking of, but I liked it.  It wasn’t really a color I had ever seen.  It was the perfect mixture of blue and purple and it was called ultramarine, a name which seemed to fit because I immediately thought of an all-inclusive vacation to the Bahamas when I saw it.

“I like it,” I said
, smiling up at him. “I’m surprised you chose it though.  It seems a little bold for you.”

“I’m no
t as boring as you think.”

“It’s just a little bright,” I said and then raised my eyebrow to him. “You’re not going to end up as my gay best friend with amazing fashion sense are you?”

His eyes got huge and he stepped back and started laughing.

“You found me out
,” he said, grabbing the sample back from me.

“Hey!  I like it,” I said stealing the swatch back from him.

“You’ve decided then?”

“Yes, I’ve decided.  I’m going to have an ultramarine room.”

Jesse reached over and took the sample back and headed up to the counter.

****

Jesse followed me back to my house, his rumbling Wagoneer pulling to a stop behind my Jetta, which was nearly stealth-like next to his tank.  I grabbed the bag of paint supplies I’d purchased and walked up the steps to the front door.  Jesse was right behind me and I could see his muscles flexing under the weight of the paint cans he was holding.  I knew they weren’t easy to carry, even for someone as strong as Jesse, so I quickly held the screen door open for him and we walked inside.  It was just past three o’clock, so I knew my grandma would be watching
Days of Our Lives
.  Sure enough, she was settled into the old recliner with the volume on the TV a little louder than was necessary, for me anyway, but not my grandma, being nearly 70 and all.

“Hello
, Riley,” she said, welcoming us with her usual warm smile.  I noticed her hair was a little curlier than it had been this morning.

“Hi Grandma,” I said
, leaning in and hugging her. “Your hair looks nice.”  I patted it lightly and she smiled.

“Thank you
, honey.  Your mama took me to the beauty shop today.  I got a new perm.”

“Well, you look gorgeous,” I told
her and I meant it and then I turned and gestured toward Jesse, who was still holding the paint cans by the door. “Do you remember Jesse?”

She looked over at him and cocked her head to the side as if she was trying to remember.

“Didn’t you two go out the other night?”

“No,
Grandma, that was Alex.”

“Oh!  That’s right.  You’re the young man that came over to study with Riley.  I’m sorry.”  Her cheeks were reddening as she looked over apologetically at Jesse.

“That’s okay.” He smiled at her warmly, showing her he hadn’t been offended.  He was so polite…a true gentleman.

“What are you two doing?” she asked and I saw her eyes rest on the paint cans I was sure Jesse was getting tired of holding. 

“We just bought the paint for my room.  Are you sure you’re okay with me painting it?”

“Of course.
  This is your home now.  If you want to paint the walls, go ahead and paint the walls.  This place could use a little color. What color did you go with anyway?’

Jesse left his place at the door and set the paint cans down at my grandma’s feet.

“It’s called ultramarine,” I said and pointed to the speck of paint the worker at the paint store had wiped on the lid of the can.

“That’s…bright
,” she said and I knew it wasn’t what she’d expected.

“You don’t like it?” I asked.

“No, no, I didn’t say that.” My grandma sounded overly apologetic, trying to unoffend me, even though she hadn’t. “It’s just different is all.”

“Well, he picked it out!” I started laughing and pointed over to Jesse who was shrugging his shoulders as if there was no way he could defend himself.

“What can I say?  Guilty,” he admitted.

“Well…it should be…
attention-grabbing,” she said, raising her eyebrow.

She was smiling so I knew she really was interested to see how Jesse and I were going to transform the room.

“I promise you’re going to love it,” I assured her and then began making my way towards the stairs.  Jesse picked up the paint cans again and followed me.

“We’ll see.  Now I’m going to get back to my stories,” she chuckled lightly and then turned her attention back to the TV.  I still laughed to myself when I heard that term.  I’d only ever known them as soap operas until coming to
Carver, but then again, I hadn’t heard of a lot of things till coming to Carver.

“Your grandma seems doubtful of our color choice,” Jesse said when we got to my room.  He set the paint cans down with a thud on my desk and then began looking around.

“Like I said, she’s going to love it.”

I pu
t the bag of paint supplies on the bed and began pulling everything out. 

“So when do we get started?” I asked
, holding up a roller.

“Not
tonight!” he exclaimed.

“I know that,” I scoffed at him and set th
e roller back on the bed. “No need to jump down my throat.  I was just asking when we were going to start.”

I turned my back to him and started putting everything away again.  The
plastic bag crinkled loudly among the silence that had settled between us.  But, then I heard him walk across the room and felt his presence behind me a second later.  He gently laid a hand on my shoulder and he turned me to face him.

“Hey, I’m sorry
.  I guess I didn’t get what you were asking.  You looked pretty eager so I thought you thought we were starting tonight.  I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“Well, that’s not what I meant,” I said defensively. “I am eager.  I want to cover up this crap with some color as soon as possible, but I know we can’t start tonight.  We said we were going to start this weekend.”

“I sounded like a jerk though, so again, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I said quietly and I turned away from him to
finish straightening the bags.

“Really
, I’m sorry,” he said again.

I turned around
and he was looking down at me with an apologetic smile and I could tell he really did feel badly.  But, when I smiled at him, he seemed to relax.

“It’s fine.  Totally fine,” I told him and then it was quiet
between us again for a moment.

“You’ve got a lot of prep work to do bef
ore Saturday,” he said finally.

“W
hat do you mean by prep work?”

“Haven’t you ever
painted a room before?”

“Um…no,” I said and I could see the mock exasperation settling on his face.  “You look surprised.”

“No, not really,” he said as his astonishment turned into a grin.  I knew he was silently making fun of me, but I just ignored him.

“So enlighten me
, Mr. Fix-It.  What do you mean by prep work?”