One of the Guys (22 page)

“I need a pole,” I say. I run a hand through my hair, unsure how to proceed.

“Is this really going to happen?” Shauna sounds disgusted.

“I was kidding, Toni. You don't have to do this,” Loch says. He gives me a warning look. Like maybe I should sit down. Take it easy.

I spot a walking stick among the wall decor. I lift it from the wall and return to my place in the center of the room. The jagged stick comes up to my waist. I set it in front of me, lean on it with my good hand, and stick my butt out. The pain medication wipes away any self-consciousness.

“Holy crap. This is going to be good.” Ben sinks into the couch and kicks up his feet.

“I need music,” I announce.

Ben whips out his phone, presses a few buttons, and the living room fills with the sounds of a sexy-slow rendition of The Ronettes' “Be My Baby.”

I give him a look. “Really? This is what you listen to?”

“Let me guess,” Ben says, rolling his eyes. “You thought I liked rap or something? Well, consider yourself corrected.”

I feel Loch watching me. As my body bursts with heat, I realize it's now or never. I can be sexy. I can totally do this.

“This is a little move I like to call Getting in Touch With Your Womanhood.” I slide down the walking stick, slow and seductive, as the soft melody rises.

Ben's eyes grow wide. Shauna snorts and drinks her cider. My hips move to the music. I dance around the stick, leaning into it, using it for balance and a focal point. Soon I lose myself in the soft sound of guitar strings. My hair falls over my face, cloaking me from the watching eyes. Everything fades into the background. I am alone with heartache.

When the song ends, I expect laughter and jokes—the works. Maybe even a new nickname. But I lift my head, brush the hair from my eyes, and greet a stunned audience.

Shauna's jaw hangs open. “I am totally taking your class.”

“Can I have your number?” Ben asks, dead-serious.

“See.” I straighten up. Catch my breath. “I'm not a
chicken
.”

I place the walking stick back on the wall and return to my seat. Loch leans forward, rubbing his forehead as if he has a bad headache. He finishes off the mug of special cider and moves on to my cup, drinking quickly.

We chat for a while, mostly about my accident, until Shauna announces she's ready to go to sleep. Ben retires soon after, leaving Loch and I alone with the crackling fire. He hasn't spoken since the pole-dancing demonstration. My eyelids feel heavy. I continue doodling on my cast.

“Why did you start the business, Toni?” Loch asks. His voice is almost a whisper. “You don't need the money that bad.”

I flip the black marker around in my palm. It's a reasonable question, but I hesitate in revealing the truth. “I don't know,” I say. “Boredom?”

He adjusts his socks—one black, one white again—and leans against the armrest. “I thought your cure for boredom was mooning principals.”

“Look where that landed me.” I sigh, sinking further into the couch. “I don't know. I wish I could say I wanted to help people. The truth is I wanted a way to tie my old life to my new one. I felt like my life was floating away or something.”

Loch moves to the couch and rolls a large furry blanket over both of us. “I told you before,” he says. “I'm not going anywhere.”

Blushing, I pull the blanket to my chin and smile. Loch takes the marker from my hand and writes something on my cast. The room is dark, lit momentto-moment by the flickering fireplace. I lean into him and breathe in the scent of cider and vanilla. I wiggle my toes. When he's finished writing, he sets the marker on the coffee table. As his hand moves to my knee, the fire creaks and moans and pours heat over every inch of me. He leans closer, closer. His rum cider forgotten.

I wonder why the world doesn't shake from my heartbeat. The pounding behind my curved bones is so freaking loud. Loud enough to send an avalanche racing down the mountain, encasing us in this moment like the lovers of Pompeii. My right foot rubs against his sock as I shift my weight. The promise he made at my father's grave feels as fragile as the embers rising into the chimney. My head buzzes with lost thoughts and insane possibilities for my path ahead.
Our
path. I read what he wrote on my cast in his sloppy boy-handwriting:
My sincerest apologies
.

I look up. Before his lips link with mine, Loch adds, “I have to break the promise I made. About avoiding, you know, change between us?”

Of course I remember the promise. But when he kisses me, I forget everything. I forget lake monsters. I forget names scratched into wooden docks. I forget Winston. I float away.

Loch pulls back, keeping close, and whispers, “Maybe we shouldn't do this here.”

I mumble something that isn't a word and study the dark hairs along his movie star chin.
Holy crap. I just kissed Loch
. I jump up, practically gasping for air. The blanket falls loose from my shoulders.

“I better get to my room,” I blurt. “Goodnight.” As I bolt for the exit, I slam my knee into the coffee table. “Ack!”

Loch stands, concerned. “You okay?” he asks. His dark eyes are so freaking distracting.

I step back, making sure he doesn't get too close. My knee throbs. “Yep. I'm good. Later.”

“Goodnight, Toni,” he says.

But I don't look at him. I just give a stupid wave and limp off to my room. My knee seriously hurts. Quickly, I close the door and climb into my bed and pull the covers over my face.
Okay, heart. You can calm down any minute now
. I lay there for some time, staring at the ceiling. My arm itches beneath my cast. My knee aches. But I don't care about any of the pain. I just replay the kiss over and over until sleep grabs hold and shoves me under.

twenty-two

T
HE NEXT MORNING,
I
WAKE UP
to the sound of clanging pans, sizzling eggs, and running water. My head feels like a stone too heavy to lift. But I sit up, groggy, and try to itch underneath my cast. I lift the covers and study my bruised knee. Ouch. Not sure I can handle another injury on this trip. Barefoot, I pad to the kitchen, which is full of busy bodies. I peer into the living room and examine the couch. There it is. The scene of the crime.

Cider.

Warmth.

Fire.

Lips.

Stubble rubbing my cheek.

His hand on my skin.

“Good morning, Tonya,” Mrs. Hamilton shouts over the counter, flipping a pancake. “How you feeling today?”

I groan, suddenly very aware that these people are admiring my bedhead. I shuffle into the kitchen and ask as casually as my voice will allow, “Where's Micah?”

Mrs. Hamilton flips another pancake. “Shauna took him to the lake to go ice-fishing early this morning.”

My stomach jerks.
He's with Shauna?

“Ben went along with them,” Mrs. Mayhew adds. “No one wanted to wake you. How's that arm?”

I look at the words on my cast. The shape of each letter. The meaning hidden behind them.
My sincerest apologies
.

I swallow hard. “Everything's great. Thank you for asking.”

An hour later, I wait on the couch with my packed duffel bag at my feet. The rest of the luggage rests by the door, along with a nervous Mrs. Mayhew, who keeps glancing out the window.

“They should be back by now,” she says.

“They probably caught a fish,” Mr. Hamilton says, fiddling with his phone. “My Shauna always catches something. We'll leave as soon as they get back.”

I call my mother to tell her about the slight delay. She takes it surprisingly well. While we wait, I play a game of Go Fish with Shauna's parents and Mrs. Mayhew, but I can't concentrate on anything other than the taste of Micah's mouth. I wonder if Shauna is kissing that mouth right now.
Ugh
. I slam the cards down.

“Don't be a sore loser, Toni,” Mrs. Hamilton huffs, gathering up the cards.

Is that what I am? A sore loser? Did I lose him? I pace the room, a bundle of nerves. I shouldn't care. Micah doesn't belong to me. He's still on the job. He's paid to pretend. Things went too far last night, but it isn't too late to set things back the way they've always been. Kissing ruins friendships.

I can't afford to lose Micah.

But.

That
stubble
. That
mouth
.

Footsteps sound outside the door. It sounds like someone kicking snow off their boots. Seconds later, the door opens, revealing a stunned-looking Micah wrapped tightly in his black jacket and fluffy black scarf. His pink cheeks burst against the white background behind him.

My stomach does this thing I can't describe. Yep. There he is. Stunning.

“Thank the Lord!” Mrs. Mayhew exclaims, shuffling the deck of cards. “We were about to send out a rescue crew. Where's Ben? Shauna?”

“Out back.” Micah's shoulders are stiff. He avoids eye contact with anyone.

Mr. Hamilton claps. “She catch something?”

“Uh. Yeah.” Micah clears his throat. “She caught something. If you can call it catching.”

Mr. Hamilton checks his phone. “We should hit the road. But first I must see what darling Shauna has brought us!”

He exits through the back door, which slams behind him. Mrs. Hamilton sighs and gathers up the cards. Mrs. Mayhew slips on her coat and joins the party around back, giddy to see Shauna's “catch.” Whatever that means.

Micah hurries over and whispers to me. “You sure that girl's not a serial killer?”

He's close. Too close. His fingers brush my elbow, and my elbow ignites. This is enough to drive me insane within a matter of days.

“Huh?” I'm distracted by his rough edges. The fact that he can light me on fire.

When Mrs. Hamilton approaches us, I panic and spin around and pretend to be going somewhere very important, but I end up walking straight into the wall. Boom.

“Oh my God!” Mrs. Hamilton exclaims. “Toni? Are you all right?”

I hold my aching nose. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. I give a stupid smile. “Must be the pain meds,” I say. “Making me kind of loopy.”

Mrs. Hamilton touches my shoulder. “Please be careful.”

She shakes her head and goes outside to join the others. I slide into my coat, wiggling my hurt nose. This is just getting ridiculous. I avoid Micah and hurry to see what the others are doing, but he's right behind me. I can feel his breath on the back of my head.

“Toni,” he whispers. “Whatever you do back there, don't look in the red cooler.”

The first thing I want to do is glance inside the red cooler. It rests beside the fire pit, a red dot among the snow. Mr. Hamilton peers inside it, a thrilled expression across his face.

“That's my daughter,” he says with pride.

Shauna grins. “There it was, crossing the road. I didn't mean to hit it, of course, but the damage was done at just the right spot. The body's still in one piece.”

Ben looks at Shauna like she's some kind of goddess. I shiver several feet away, hands stuffed into the pockets of my coat. Micah stands close enough that I can feel the heat rise from him. Will he try to kiss me again? Not now, of course. But in the future perhaps?