Love Blind (22 page)

◊ ◊ ◊

I went to Starbucks on the way home because I needed some caffeine after all that relaxing. Reading the board was impossible, so I got the same thing. Every time. Coffee. Black. It was cheap and required no thought.

The song that Tess and I had played with the other day ran through my head, and I tapped my hips, waiting for some underpaid dealer of caffeine to get me my cup of plain black.

When I finally snagged my cup and headed for the door, a familiar shape came through.

“Friend Kyle.” I smiled.

“Oh . . . ,” he stammered. “Hey, Haileyum . . . thisis . . .”

He glanced to his right, where a girl stood. My chest tightened. I looked down just long enough to see they were holding hands. The girl. Calculus/History Girl, who I'd given him the number for. Mariah.

Right. Good. I mean, I was the one who'd given him the number, and then I'd sort of ditched him for a few weeks. And then he'd held me because he knew me well enough, and I'd started to understand how awesome it could be to date someone you know so well. But who knew he'd actually
use
the number? My stomach tightened up. And my chest felt heavy again. The thing Kyle couldn't do for me, he might do for her. The two hours of yoga were definitely wasted after Kyle, his Smartie Girl, and caffeine.

Was I so screwed up that I'd misread how Kyle had leaned in over Christmas break? I'd replayed it over and over, sure and unsure. And what he'd done for me yesterday—holding me until I was all cried out? Did he not see that I didn't let anyone in the way I did with him? Maybe I should have been the one to use the words,
Hey, I might be interested in you
, but the baggage I carried was too heavy. And the reminder of my words and his mom's words echoing over each other was too much. He didn't want me. And after everything, I didn't think I had it in me to be rejected by him again.

“Kyle. Nice to
see
you again.” I smirked in a way I definitely wasn't feeling and bolted out of the coffee shop before I did something stupid. Like cry.

M
ariah came home with me. I wasn't exactly sure how. It was stupid. The look on Hailey's face and the bitchy comment about
seeing
me and the anger that I couldn't quite figure out because she'd given me Mariah's number and she'd gone MIA after meeting my mom. But she'd also sobbed into my shirt and apologized and held me like I was the only thing that could save her. And I knew somehow I'd screwed up with her. It was a mess.

So I invited Mariah to my house. Because Mom was home and I wasn't going to go through keeping Mariah from my mom, only to have her freak out about her later. Cards on the table. And truthfully, part of me sort of wanted her to be appalled at my mom. So that Hailey's freak-out wasn't so hard to swallow. Mom was on a downswing now, so at least I didn't think
there'd be any anger, though sometimes the quiet was worse.

“It's really nice to meet you, Ms. Jamieson,” Mariah said. And it wasn't weird that my mom was on the couch. It was fine. “Kyle and I are in Calculus together.”

My mom lifted her head. “Kyle's very good at math.”

Mariah nodded. “Probably the best in the class.”

Then Mom went back to the TV and the cocoon, and Mariah turned to me and asked if she could have a glass of water. It was all painfully fine and normal. Two mice surrounding me. Flapping and smoothing themselves out. Mariah brought my mom a glass of water too and then kissed me on the cheek and left.

She called later that night. We made a
plan
. I had no idea what I was doing or why, but Mariah seemed to. In her mousy way, she got my life and didn't want anything from me. She didn't push me to conquer my fears or bug me about talking more. She was there and happy with who I was.

◊ ◊ ◊

And then after a shitty spring of semi-awkwardness with Hailey, and Mom in a terrible downswing more days than not, and Mariah just there and present and easy, I had to nut up and ask her to prom. Even though it wasn't on my list, Hailey convinced me that it was probably on Mariah's “mental list of awesome things” and since I'd gone through the effort of dating the girl and tongue-kissing her—badly—she deserved a dance.

Mariah actually giggled when I asked her.
Giggled
. I almost
took it back, but she was so happy and I didn't think I'd ever made anyone that happy before. Except maybe Hailey when I'd biked past her house wearing the shoes. But that was different.

Hailey came over beforehand to take pictures of the two of us. Because Mom was working and Hailey thought she'd want a memento of her only son dressed in a tux. Hailey grinned so wide when she saw me that my junk kicked into overdrive. God, I'd thought I'd gotten past this with her.

“You clean up exceptionally,” she said, and snapped a picture of me at the front door. “And you're wearing the shoes with a tux. I approve.”

“Thanks. Did you want to come in?” I pulled the door open wide enough for Hailey to see it was okay. I'd cleaned the house. A little.

“That's okay. It's too nice out to go inside.”

I stepped onto the cement steps beside Hailey. The night was perfect. The prom-night dream weather. Warm and pungent and spring-like. Hailey's presence beside me made me wish for too much, so I moved down the steps toward the sidewalk in the front of my house.

“When is the lovely Mariah arriving?” She walked up next to me and leaned in.

“The limo is picking her up and bringing her here at six. Then we have to go to her house for pictures.”

Hailey whistled. “Limo. Very fancy. Perfect for the girls around here. But pricey, huh?”

I'd known Hailey long enough to understand the subtext of her question. “Pricey. But Mom's paying for it. She feels guilty about my deciding to go to Northwestern instead of Stanford.” Though I suspected she'd known it would play out that way all along.

Hailey nodded. “You're still planning on living on campus though, right? Because I know you wanna be able to check in on your mom, but I think you'd really do well in the dorms.”

“So you've said. About a billion times since I got my acceptance letter.”

She squeezed my shoulder and I hated that I tingled still when she touched me. But at least I'd gotten used to it and usually I could keep the rest of me from reacting. I'd accepted being with Mariah and aching for Hailey and knowing I was with the “right girl” because I wasn't the “right guy” for Hailey. I'd convinced myself of the whole thing over and over. Journaled about it through most of the spring. Embraced my want in the same way I'd embraced my misery at school after Pavel had left.

“How many things do you have left on your list now?”

I shrugged. We hadn't talked much about our lists since she'd hugged me on Solstice. “Three or four.” Lie. I'd stalled out on my list, but I didn't want to get into it with Hailey.

She waggled her eyebrows. “Prom night. Might knock out one of them in the limo.” She paused for a second. “Actually. Don't. Don't be that guy. The one who takes a girl's virginity in a limo.”

I laughed. “Yeah. Not likely.”

She clicked another picture. “Nice smile. And yeah, I
know
you're not that guy. I wouldn't have stuck with you this long if you were
that
guy.”

“Glad you did,” I mumbled.

“You don't have to mumble that kind of stuff to me, Kyle. We're sort of past mumbling. And I know you're glad. I'm glad too.”

It was painful being so close to her. The awkwardness between us so thick I could almost touch it. Especially in her silver glasses and sparkly, tight girl-band T-shirt, her hair down around her face. She was hotter to me than any girl could ever be. Even on prom night.

The moment between us was too long. Hailey stepped back and squinted up the street. “I think that's your girl.”

◊ ◊ ◊

Prom was on a boat. Stupid. But I think the plan was to deter people from getting drunk beforehand or hooking up in the too-small bathrooms. Which didn't work, at least in the bathroom I used. I hated dancing, and Mariah gave up on me after my third awkward attempt at swaying to a thumping hip-hop song. Elbows and bodies pressed against me, and I flushed with embarrassment at the number of couples making out on the dance floor. Mariah pouted and snipped at me that maybe I shouldn't have asked her in the first place. It was unusually honest for her.

And made me realize maybe I shouldn't have.

But that was asshole thinking, so I stuck to the slow dances and she danced with her friends during all the fast songs.

After the king and queen were crowned, our principal came up to the microphone and announced a special surprise from “one of our very own.” My mouth dropped open when Hailey took the stage with her guitar. Her eyes were darting all over the place, but I was sure she couldn't see anything with the bright-colored lights.

She slung her guitar strap over her shoulder and leaned forward. I froze.

“So I got second place in this contest,” she said, her voice raspy and sure and so Hailey. “With the help of a friend. Last year. It was for covering a love song. Whatever, doesn't matter. I probably would've gotten first if I'd done a different song. So yeah, here I am, trying again with a better song. I hope you like it.”

“Breakeven.” The song. One of the slightly newer ones I'd told her to sing for the contest forever ago, but she'd chosen “In Your Eyes” instead. When there was still Chaz. And not Mariah. The song that brought out all the best qualities in her voice and reminded me of every female singer whose singing had the power to crush me, from Janis Joplin to Nina Simone to Elle King. Hailey had
that
kind of a classic voice. Her face flashed uncertain for a second, and she peered out into the crowd. I inched forward. She blinked and adjusted the strap on her guitar.

Then there was nothing but her voice and her beautiful
eyes and her shiny-with-spit mouth, and prom became almost perfect. Almost.

When she was done, she ditched her guitar and came down to me. Cut through all the mob, whose faces I was sure she couldn't see, to get to me. Like she knew exactly where I'd be standing. She nodded at Mariah and made girl small talk that Hailey was really good at and Mariah wasn't. I told her I'd liked her song.

Then too much uncomfortability wrapped itself around us. Me and Hailey and the girl I'd come to prom with but couldn't for the life of me remember why.

I couldn't stop staring at Hailey.

“So, Friend Kyle, how about you dance with me?”

Before I could say anything, she grabbed my arm and pulled me onto the dance floor. I was so grateful I wanted to kiss her. Because everything was perfect with Hailey. She made
everything
perfect. Mariah probably noticed. Maybe. Definitely. I didn't care. I wrapped my arms around Hailey and pulled her into me.

She breathed in deeply when she slipped her arms around my neck.

“Are you sniffing me?”

She grinned. “Yeah. I like the citrus. I've told you that, right? I thought it was your detergent, but you're in a rented tux and still have the citrus. It's just you.”

“My soap.”

I wanted to pour myself into her. Give her all of me and pretend that Mariah wasn't standing on the edge of the dance floor waiting for me. That I wasn't leaving for college in a few months. That Hailey didn't have another year in high school. That things wouldn't be different next year. Again.

“Yeah,” she said, and sighed. She pressed her face into my chest and I wondered if she heard my heart thumping. I heard it like a jackhammer, so she had to. But she tightened her arms and swayed closer to me.

For two minutes, it was her and me and warmth and bodies touching and everything I'd wanted since the moment she bumped into me outside of the radio station. I had so much to say. So much in me. All for her. God, we were so close.

“Prom's almost over,” I finally choked out.

“Hmm . . .”

“Mariah's going to the beach with some of her friends after. But I told her I didn't want to go. Do you wanna get breakfast at Denny's?”

She pulled back slightly and I slid my hands lower on her back. Her breath stopped and then started again. I noticed. She licked her lips and I bit the inside of my cheek because I wanted, wanted, wanted so much to kiss her. But Mariah and everything I needed to say was still between us.

“Okay. Denny's. After prom. Go home and change and I'll meet you there.”

She raised her hand and smoothed her thumb over my
cheek. Something a mom would do, but it didn't feel like that. It felt like an invitation. I leaned closer, breathed the scent of us in, stared at her mouth, her eyes behind the silver glasses. Eyes that weren't darting. Just studying my face.

Then the song was over, Hailey disappeared, and I was taking Mariah's hand and sending her off with her friends. And she hugged me tight before she slipped in the car with them and whispered it was okay and that we didn't have to be a thing because she was leaving and I was leaving. Mariah graciously gave me the out, which reminded me that she was the right and wrong girl for me all at once.

But I took it. And bolted home thinking about Hailey in her sparkly shirt and glasses and the possibility of a summer of me and Hailey. My body still tense and lit up from the dance in a ridiculous way. My heart pounded and the pool at the bottom of my gut worked itself around my system. A shot of adrenaline and lust and anticipation.

◊ ◊ ◊

Then I walked into our house. Mom on the couch, sobbing. Letters in her hands. Letters from my dad that she'd kept for too long. Strewn everywhere I could see. I moved forward, forced Hailey out of my head, and wrapped Mom's thin frame in my arms.