Over It (The Kiss Off #2) (28 page)

I lowered myself onto the bench like an old, arthritic lady. My body hurt. It physically hurt all over and I didn’t know why. And I was just. So. Tired.

I sat and watched cars, trucks and motorcycles speed by on the highway, while others turned in and stopped for gas or a meal in the restaurant; a break from the tedium of the long journey from wherever they were coming from. Families, groups of friends, solo travellers; wearing shorts and grubby tee shirts, cocktail dresses, business suits. They all stopped here.

Nikki sat beside me, following my gaze and watching people as they pumped their gas. She didn’t look at me, just slid her Ray Bans on and handed me a giant frozen Coke.

We sat in silence for a minute, just watching. Breathing the fresh air. Well, no. Not
fresh
air. The air was laced with gas and exhaust fumes, but it was bigger air. Wider. Air from open spaces, as opposed to the blasts in my face from the air vents.

I sucked on my slushie, barely even noticing the cold sugar as it slid down my throat.

“So, I want to tell you something,” Nikki said after a while. She didn’t even give me a chance to reply. Instead, she said, “I miss Cam.”

I swivelled my head to face her. “Huh?”

She gave the smallest of shrugs and tucked a lock of dark hair that had slid free of her high ponytail. “I don’t know,” she said, looking down, avoiding my gaze. It wasn’t out of shame or embarrassment; she didn’t look uncomfortable about talking to me about missing her ex–boyfriend, who was also my ex–boyfriend. There was a whole lot of history there but that wasn’t what was making her knee bounce up and down, her knuckles whiten where she held the edge of the seat. She sucked casually on the straw of her own slushie, a red one, trying to be cool about it. To keep it casual.

“I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately,” she said. “And since you and I are friends again I thought maybe I could talk to you about it.”

I didn’t know how I felt about talking about Cam with her. We never had. By the time we had sorted our shit out, she and Cam had been long over. She’d moved on from him, like I had.

But I guess she hadn’t, actually. Not really.

“Yeah,” I said. “Sure. You can talk to me.”

“I still love him,” she said.

My eyebrows shot up. “You were in love with him?” I asked. “You were in love?”

She nodded sadly.

I’d had no idea. I’d just thought they were together. They liked hanging out and making out and probably more that I didn’t want to think about. Hell, Nikki had pretty much confirmed my suspicions when she said she’d had sex with boyfriends. Cam and I hadn’t been in love. At least I never was. But Cam and Nikki… Love. Had me and my bitching and sulking and snarky song writing actually been standing in the way of true love?

“I didn’t know you were so serious.”

“Well,” Nikki said, “
I
was in love. And I want to give it another try. I don’t know about him.”

We sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment, both of us clearly remembering how Cam had attempted to win me back while he had been with her.

“But we’ve been talking,” she continued, “Facebook messaging, texting a bit.”

“Really? How is he?”

“You guys don’t talk?”

I didn’t answer. I wished we still talked. He’d been my best friend before everything happened. But he kind of kept away from me, now. I guess it was hard for him to be around me since he had made me choose, and I’d chosen Ty. It seemed that hadn’t worked out so well for me, either.

“He’s good. He’s fine. He joined a motocross team which is keeping him busy.”

“Shut up,” I said. “Motocross? That’s so cool.” I’d had no idea. I knew he liked cars, but bikes was something new. “Good for him,” I said. And I meant it. I wanted him to be happy.

“Anyway, I think I want to give it another shot. Cam and me,” Nikki said.

“Does he want to get back together too?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, “but I think so.”

I nodded.

“Should I not have told you?” Nikki asked.

“I’m glad you told me,” I said. I thought for a moment and sipped on my slushie. “I say go for it. I hope it works out.” And as the words came out of my mouth, I realized they were the truth.

“Really?” Nikki asked. Her face lit up with cautious joy.

“Yeah,” I said. “Really really.”

She leaned back on the bench with a happy sigh, smiling as she sucked on her straw.

“And thanks,” I said.

“For what?”

“For telling me, and not just… I don’t know, hooking up again behind my back. Not that you owed me anything like that, but… you know. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She squeezed my hand and I smiled. Though it was a small one, it was a real, true smile. It gave me hope. Made me recognize that I could do this smiling thing again. It wouldn’t take forever before I could do the happy thing again and soldier on.

The doors whooshed open and Mads and Hamish walked out, walked right by us and toward the car. Nikki and I followed ten feet behind.

“So this is why you didn’t follow through on anything with Hamish, then,” I said quietly, giving her a shove with my hip.

“We’re pathetic, aren’t we?” Nikki asked. “Fighting over a boy when both of us are still into our exes?”

“You really are.”

“Poor Hamish.”

I snorted. “I wouldn’t worry about him. I think he enjoyed the attention.”

Before we reached the car, Nikki stopped walking, just out of earshot. “Don’t tell Mads about Cam though, okay? If she knew I didn’t actually like Hamish and was just after him to piss her off…” She grimaced. “We’re kind of on a truce right now and I’d hate to ruin it.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” I held up my slushie and she tapped it with her own.

We climbed back into the car and Mads tossed a mixed bag of candy in my lap.

“Feed a fever, starve a cold,” she said, “cure depression with sugar.” She leaned forward in her seat and gave me an around-the-headrest-and-shoulders hug.

“We were going to get you ice cream, but it just doesn’t work as well if it’s not in a two-pint tub,” Mads added. “Ice cream on a stick wouldn’t cut it, am I right?”

“You’re right, this is way better,” I said.

I smiled at Hamish and patted him on the knee. “Home Jeeves, toot sweet!”

He grinned, shook his head and exchanged pleased looks with the girls in the rear view mirror.

We finally made it home and I wasn’t the only one to get out of the car stiff and hunched over and walking like a centenarian.

Dad opened the front door and Poo Bum raced out, barking like he’d spotted an unsuspecting squirrel chilling on the grass. He bounded down the steps, shaggy fur rippling behind him. The closer he got the more speed he built up and he must have forgotten to put on the brakes because, with a final bark, he launched himself at me. With an “oof!” I was plastered to the hood of the car under the full weight of a medium–to–large sized dog. I turned my face from side to side, squinting my eyes shut, trying to get away from his slobbery tongue as he licked me all over in celebration of my homecoming. It was all kinds of disgusting, but I rubbed his back, glad to see him too. It was nice to have been so missed.

Hamish pulled him off me and soon Poo had flopped himself on his back, tummy facing the sky, awaiting someone, anyone, to rub it.

I hugged Dad extra–tight when he joined Poo as the welcoming committee, and after a moment of surprise, he hugged me right back. We hauled my barely–used tent, camping supplies and suitcase into the house and swapped them out for Mads’s second case which had sat in my room while we were away. Hamish took off shortly after, saying it had been real (whatever that was supposed to mean), and it didn’t take long for Mads and Nikki’s rides – Mads’s mom and Nikki’s dad – to arrive and take them home.

The weekend was finally over.

I stood in the kitchen with my dad and Poo Bum, relieved to be home.

“How was the festival?” Dad asked.

I thought about that for a moment, how exactly I could answer that question without getting myself grounded.

“Eventful,” I said.

He nodded. “Did you have fun?”

“Some of the time,” I said, giving him a hug. He hugged me back. I just stood in the kitchen, hugging my dad. The dog stared up at us, wagging his tail because his pack was complete again. Mom was out with Rory and Bex at the movies, and I was kind of glad they weren’t around to bombard me with questions. Dad said they hadn’t known what time to expect me, so he had volunteered to stay home so I wouldn’t come home to an empty house. He had sacrificed getting to see the newest talking animal movie in order to hang around waiting for me. That’s just the kind of guy he was. When I walked through the living room the TV was on mute, a baseball game heading into its final innings, and there was a half-eaten bowl of nachos and a couple of bottles of beer on the coffee table. He’d been making the most of his time in the empty house.

The good thing about Dad was that he wouldn’t know what to ask to find out how my weekend truly had been, to pry information out of me and get me in trouble. He just smiled and chucked me on the nose and offered to make me some dinner.

When I woke up the next morning – okay, at midday – I yawned and stretched and lay in bed, pinned down by the mound of sleeping dog that had joined me during the night. After a while I maneuvered my legs out from under Poo’s chin and stepped over my abandoned luggage to the computer, and powered it up. I decided to bypass Facebook and Twitter and my email. They were too scary; there was too much potential to see things I didn’t want to see about me. Instead, I just watched some YouTube vids, checking to see if anyone I subscribed to had uploaded anything new over the weekend. New and not about me or Academy of Lies, I mean.

The big, shaggy dog stretched, licked his front paws and blinked bleary eyes around the room until he spotted me. I didn’t appear to be coming back to bed, so he hopped off and lay down at my feet under the desk. I rested my ankles on him and he didn’t complain. He was a pretty good height for a footrest, actually.

As I scrolled through my subscription list, deciding on what to watch, Skype must have opened automatically in the background on start up, because a new contact request flicked to the front of the screen.

From Paul Demeter.

I wondered when that was from. Was it from when he was excited about working with me a couple of days ago? Before I had let him down?

Wait, no. It was from last night. I’d totally blown it by then.

I clicked accept and only then realized he might have added me as a contact in order to ream me out face to face for being so unprofessional and not only not delivering a kick ass demo, but not delivering a demo at all.

Oh crap. I slowly breathed out. I wondered what he had to say; I wondered how he got my Skype address. Actually, no. That wouldn’t have been so hard.

I was not even two minutes into watching a new video blog by this chick Cyrus when Skype filled the screen and the words
Paul Demeter Calling
spread across it.

Oh. My. God.

I swallowed hard, ran my hands through my hair, hoping it wasn’t too bedhead-like and pressed my fingers under the crêpey skin below each eye, quickly rubbing away any flakes and spots of yesterday’s mascara which was no doubt still lurking there.