One True Thing (7 page)

“You can’t keep lying like this. Eventually it’s going to come out.”

I reach for her, but she flinches, so I drop my hand. “Look,” I say, the panic rising in my chest. Everything I’ve done this year has been to make people see what I want them to see and now it’s going to get all fucked up. “You can’t tell anyone. And I mean
anyone,
okay? This is none of your business.”

Her dark eyes are steady on me. “It became my business when you screwed with my friend. Who I dragged out that night to meet you so the whole thing is sort of my fault.”

“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” I say quickly. “I like Jenna, I really do. And if things were different…” If things were different, she’d never have given me a shot, I’m sure of that. Small-town Texas girls don’t go out with mixed-race guys.

“But things
aren’t
different. And you led her on and then bailed on her,” Nina says, the anger radiating off her body. “Who does that?”

Assholes do that. And now I’m one of them. “I tried to stop. I did. But things got out of control. Look, me leaving her alone is doing her a favor. You know that.”

“That’s bullshit and
you
know it. You at least owe Jenna an explanation.”

I can feel my face getting hot. “I can’t explain it to her, and neither can you. Promise me you won’t say anything! To her or Mitch. I’ll try to fix it, I swear. But you have to let me do it my own way, in my own time.” I suddenly realize that my fate is in her hands. A few well-chosen words and everything I’ve built this year will come crashing down. “Promise me.”

I see her hesitate, but she finally nods. “I won’t say anything. It’s not my place. But you should. This is ridiculous.”

“Thank you,” I say, relief flooding my body.

I walk to my bike and am turning the key when she smiles and shouts, “Seriously Ty, the truth will set you free.”

I stomp on the starter as the bike roars to life.

If only.

Chapter
Six (Jenna)

“Crap! Hang on a second.” I grab Courtney as she starts to get out of the car. I duck down in my seat, but Ty doesn’t even look our way as he roars into the parking lot on his bike. I want to hate him, or even better, feel absolutely nothing for him. One glance tells me that neither of these two things is close to happening.

Courtney looks over at Ty and then at me. “It’s him! The god of baseball from down the hall?”

“What?” Just the sight of Ty makes my heart hurt. It was bad enough before, but now I know what he’s hiding under his black t-shirt and perfectly worn jeans. As I watch him disappear through the glass door, all I can picture is the look on his face as he lay next to me in my bed. The taste of him. The feel of him. And the minute he walked out I knew that was it. I got it wrong—I thought we had something special going, but for Ty it was just one night.

Courtney watches me watching him. “You went out with him didn’t you?”

“Sort of.” I’ve got to snap out of this. My dancing has sucked and I didn’t even finish that paper for English. It’s ridiculous. But I can’t help it.

“Sort of?” Courtney says as we climb out of the car and pop the trunk. “Holy shit, he’s so hot. And a guy in art history said that he’s heading to the majors next year.”

“Not helping,” I warn her.

“Is that who was over the other night? I knew it!”

I bend down to grab some of the grocery bags so she can’t see my face. “How did you know someone was over?”

“Your black cami, the one that you wouldn’t even let me borrow, was tossed on the floor on Saturday night and your door was closed.” She smacks me on the arm. “I can’t believe you didn’t even tell me!”

The plastic bags are ripping into my fingers as we head for the door. I purposely didn’t tell her because I didn’t want any ‘I told you so’s.’ This is painful enough without Courtney piling on. “I didn’t sleep with him,” I say.

Courtney laughs. “What, he couldn’t get it up? I hear that’s what happens on steroids.”

“No.” I scowl at her. “And he’s not on steroids.”

“So what happened?” She holds the door open for me with her foot.

“Nothing happened! And keep it down.” These hallways echo and I really don’t need to see Ty right now. Three days of not calling, of avoiding me in the halls. Exactly like I knew it would be the moment he slipped out of my bed.

“Obviously something happened,” Courtney says in a harsh whisper as we climb the stairs.

I just shrug and shake my head, trying not to let images from that night come flooding back. “We fooled around a little and then he went home. No big deal.”

“Fine.” She leans her head toward me. “So how was he? As hot as he looks?”

I bite my lip and nod my head. “Hotter.” My mind keeps wandering back to that night at the bar when we talked about all the things we wanted out of life. As he drove me home, my body pressed up against his on the bike. As his tongue darted out to taste my skin. Why am I torturing myself? It obviously didn’t mean anything to him, so how come I can’t get it out of my head?

The hallway’s empty as we turn the corner, and I can’t help but glance at his front door as we walk by. Somewhere in there, only a few feet away, Ty is going about his regular business, probably not even thinking about me at all. I balance the bag on my hip as I open our door, not saying another word until we’re safely inside. “But he bailed, and has been avoiding me ever since. I was just a momentary diversion as far as he’s concerned.”

“Bastard,” Courtney says with such force I have to admit it makes me feel a tiny bit better. We’re roommates, not necessarily best friends, but it’s nice to have her on my side. “Is that why you’ve been moping around the house since last weekend?”
I didn’t think anyone else noticed my pity-party. Now I’m a little embarrassed. “I’m not moping. It was one night—it didn’t mean anything to him. Or to me.”

“Oh come on. You wouldn’t come out with us on Sunday and you’ve barely eaten anything in days. Moping.”

“I’m not moping. I’m fine,” I insist. How can I explain the heaviness in my chest every time I think of him? About how I don’t want to wash my sheets just so I can catch the smallest whiff of his scent when I’m sleeping? About how just the sight of him makes me feel a total sense of loss? All this from a one-night make-out session. I should be smarter than this.

“Well he’s not worth it,” she says, unpacking one of the bags and shoving some lettuce in the fridge.

“No kidding.”

“I tell you what. Why don’t we get take-out, grab this container of Ben & Jerry’s.” She waves a carton of ice cream at me. “And watch Pride and Prejudice all night?”

A night in my pajamas wallowing in my own misery actually sounds pretty good right now. “The BBC version?”

Courtney squints at me. “There’s only one Mr. Darcy, and Colin Firth is it.”

“Deal.”


                    
 

“Releve. And plie. Releve. And plie.” Madame taps out the time to the music with the big wooden stick she always carries with her. “I want to see more extension! More lift.”

I can feel her eyes burning into me as I work the sequence and try to stare straight ahead. Any more bobbles and she’ll pull me out of the recital, she’s practically said so. Nina’s next to me and I just concentrate on her, try to match her height and her timing. Madame stands motionless in front of me, nothing moving but her stick as it thumps on the ground. Finally, after an eternity, she moves on down the line to scare the living crap out of some other poor dancer.

The music stops and I want to collapse in a heap, but instead I force myself to stay standing and stretch my legs. It’s always the weak gazelle that gets cut from the herd and devoured by the strongest lioness. I can’t afford to be the weak gazelle.

“Bon, ladies,” Madame says. “We have less than a week of rehearsals left before the show. I expect everyone here on time and on task. Have a good evening.”

I turn to grab my bag from the cubbyhole in the front, but Madame calls me over to the mirror. Nina glances at me and mouths, “I’ll wait outside.” Nodding quickly to her, I pull my dance bag onto my shoulder and go to hear my fate, my heart pounding and tiny beads of sweat collecting at my hairline.

“Ms. Taylor, I am concerned that you are not up for this part next week,” she says, her eyes intent on me in the mirror.

“I am Madame,” I say quickly, wiping my face with my sleeve. “I’ve been working on the solo during my open studio time. I’ll be ready.”

She purses her lips and turns to look me up and down. “Your jumps are leaden, your feet are heavy and your spirit is dark. You are not letting the outside world impact your art, are you not?”

“No Madame.” But we both know that’s a lie.

Madame looks beyond me to the rest of the dancers as they crowd the waiting area. “Because there are many girls who are waiting in the wings to take your place.” She pauses. “There is
always
another girl waiting to take your place.”

I nod quickly and swallow hard. She’s not letting me go yet. I have to get it together.

“We will see after tomorrow’s rehearsal. If I am still not satisfied, we will have to make some changes.”

“You will be,” I say, resisting the urge to throw myself at her feet. “I promise.”

“Good then.” She breaks into what passes for a smile. “Go and rest. It will be a long week ahead of us.”

“Yes Madame. Thank you.” I walk away as quickly as possible while still trying to retain a shred of my dignity.

“Holy crap,” Nina whispers when I meet her at the front door of the studio. “Did she replace you?”

“Not yet,” I say, following her out. “But she will if I don’t stop screwing up.”

We walk a few steps down the sidewalk. “He’s not worth it you know,” she says.

Just thinking about Ty makes my stomach clench. “I know. I feel like an idiot for letting it get to me. I thought the days of feeling like crap when some lame guy doesn’t call were over.”

“It’s not you. I’m sure Ty’s got his own shit going on that has nothing to do with you.” Nina looks suddenly interested at the cars in the street as she says this and I’m a little suspicious. Mitch and Ty are best friends after all.

“How do you know? Did Mitch say something?” I hate the flicker of hope that runs through me.

“No. It’s just a feeling I get is all.” She takes out her keys but still won’t meet my eyes. “You need a ride?”

I hesitate. I could press the issue and see if I can get more info, but that would probably come off as more pathetic than I am now. “No thanks. I’m going to walk to the Union—a friend from home is helping me with a philosophy paper and we’re going to get a bite to eat.”

“All right. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See ya.”

The sun is just starting to set behind the trees as I walk on the path toward the center of campus. This is the best time of year here—hot but not crazy hot during the day and warm at night. The kind of evening that makes me sad for the day I have to leave Texas. There are plenty of people still out, walking home from late classes or toward the library for an all-night study session, a ridiculous amount of them happy-looking couples. Soon the bell-tower looms above me and I climb the steps to the Student Union.

“Hey miss Jen-na!” Stewart calls from a bench by one of the doors. He always says my name like it’s at least two words and I can’t help but smile. We went to high school together—and middle school and elementary school if you want to get technical—and whenever we hang out it’s a little like being home again.

“Hey Stew.” I walk up and he gives me a giant hug and a kiss on the cheek as if we haven’t seen each other in years, instead of yesterday in class. Right now, it feels pretty nice.

Stewart is tall and gorgeous, with thick dark hair and an athlete’s body from so many years on the football field. For years Gram tried to get us together, always dropping hints around Valentine’s Day and just about had a heart attack when he asked me to Homecoming senior year. She says she can’t understand why we couldn’t
work it out and in a lot of ways she’s right–Stewart would be the perfect boyfriend. If it wasn’t for the gay. Being openly gay at Garvin State is rough. Being openly gay in Grand Junction is impossible.

“Why so glum?” he asks, making a sad face.

“Nothing.”

“A boy?”

“I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“I can tell,” he says, putting one arm around me. “Which is all the more reason why we need to. I think this study session needs a pizza and a pitcher of beer,” he says, opening the door for me. “Philosophy is always so much more meaningful with a buzz on.”

I lean against him as we walk in the building. This isn’t the first time he’s been the one to help me through a bad date or a bad relationship. I wouldn’t have survived the Jake experience without him. “Men suck.”