Sarah Dessen (34 page)

“Asshole,” Chloe said.

It was true. He’d hurt my mother badly, and there wasn’t much I could do to make her feel better. Except maybe one thing.

Don started the car and headed toward us. I lifted up my Diet Zip, feeling the weight in my hands.

“Oh, yes,” Lissa whispered.

“On three,” Jess said.

He didn’t see us until he was right next to Lissa’s car, and by then I’d already put my whole arm into it, my cup sailing through the air and smacking right against the windshield, exploding soda all over the shiny hood. He hit the brakes, swerving slightly, as two other cups crashed against the back door and sunroof, respectively. But it was Lissa’s, surprisingly, that had the best hit. It nailed his half-open window perfectly, the lid breaking off on impact, sending a wave of ice and 7UP smack in his face and down his shirt. He slowed down but didn’t stop, the cups sailing off as he jerked into traffic, the car leaving a wet trail as it drove away from us.

“Nice shot,” Jess said to Lissa. “Great arc.”

“Thanks,” Lissa said. “Chloe’s was good too. Did you see that impact?”

“It’s all in the wrist,” Chloe said, shrugging.

Then we just sat there. I could hear the buzz of the Quik Zip sign overhead, that constant hum of fluorescence, and for a minute I lost myself in it, remembering Dexter standing in this same place not too long before, waving after me. Arms open. Calling me back, or saying good-bye. Or maybe a little bit of both.

He’d always had that fearless optimism that made cynics like me squirm. I wondered if it was enough for both of us. I would never know from here, though. And time was passing. Crucial minutes and seconds, each one capable of changing everything.

I drove off, with my friends watching me go, all of them grouped on Lissa’s hood. As I pulled onto the road, I glanced into the rearview and saw them: they were waving, hands moving through the air, their voices loud, calling out after me. The square of that mirror was like a frame, holding this picture of them saying good-bye, pushing me forward, before shifting gently out of sight, inch by fluid inch, as I turned away.

In the lobby, I passed some girls in hideous baby blue bridesmaids dresses, complete with big bows on the back, as well as someone wheeling a big ice sculpture depicting wedding bells. The sign next to the door said MEADOWS-DOYLE reception, and I slipped in the far door and moved along the back wall, trying to stay hidden.

The band was onstage, in their G Flats garb. Dexter was singing an old Motown song, which I recognized as one of their regular covers, and behind him Ted was strumming his guitar with a bored, irritated expression, as if just standing there was paining him.

The song ended with a flourish, provided by John Miller, who then stood up for applause. It came, but barely, and he sat back down again with a sigh.

“Hello everyone,” Dexter said into the microphone in his game show host voice. “Let’s give another big congratulations to Janine and Robert, the Doyles!”

Now, a big cheer as the bride beamed, blowing kisses at everyone.

“This next song is a special one from the bride to her groom,” Dexter went on, glancing at Lucas, who nodded. “But the rest of you, feel free to sing along.”

The band launched into the opening chords of a song I barely recognized as one from a recent blockbuster movie. It was a power ballad, totally schmaltzy, and even Dexter, who was usually the best sport of the bunch, seemed to deflate when he had to deliver a line about
loving you till the stars are gone / and the heart I have just turns to stone. . . .
Around the second chorus, Ted actually started gagging, stopping only when he had to concentrate hard on the guitar solo that wound up the final verse. The bride and groom, however, seemed oblivious to this, staring into each other’s eyes as they danced, their bodies pressed together so closely they were hardly moving.

The song finished and everyone clapped. The bride was crying, her new husband reaching up to wipe her eyes while everyone made ain’t-it-sweet noises. Truth Squad left the stage squabbling, Ted and Lucas already at each other, with Dexter and John Miller lagging behind. They all disappeared out a side door as the canned music came on and the staff wheeled the cake, four tiered and covered with roses, onto the dance floor.

As the door shut behind them I moved to follow, but something stopped me, and I took a step back, pressing myself against the wall and closing my eyes. God, it was one thing to come over here on a wave of post-Don soakage euphoria, but another thing entirely to actually
do
this crazy thing. It was like driving on the wrong side of the road, or letting my gas gauge get down to flat empty before refilling, something that went completely against my nature and everything I had, up until this point, believed in.

But what had that gotten me so far, anyway? A string of boyfriends. A reputation as a cold, bitter bitch. And a secure bubble that I’d drawn so tightly around myself that no one, not even someone with the best of intentions, could get in, even if I wanted them to. The only way to truly reach me was to sneak up, crash in, bust past the barricades on the equivalent of a kamikaze mission, end result unknown.

That night at the Quik Zip he’d told me, so angrily, that everything he’d said to me, from the first day, was true. Then, I had blanked, not remembering anything. But now, as I pressed my back into the wall, it came to me.

I just thought to myself, all of a sudden, that we had something in common,
he’d said.
A natural chemistry, if you will.

That had been right after he’d crashed into me. My arm had been still buzzing at the funny bone.

And I just had a feeling that something big was going to happen.

I remembered, suddenly, how ridiculous this had sounded. A car dealership soothsayer, telling my fortune.

To both of us. That we were, in fact, meant to be together.

Meant to be. He hadn’t known me at all. Just seen me from across a room.

You didn’t feel it?

Not then. Or maybe, deep in some hidden, misplaced spot, I had. And when I couldn’t find it later, it came looking for me.

“They’re about to cut the cake!” some woman in a green, shimmery dress was calling out as I pushed away from the wall, headed to that side door. Halfway there I got lost in a mass of people, all depositing their empty drinks on tables and pressing toward the dance floor. I navigated through them, past suits and tuxedos, crinkly dresses and a thick cloud of mixed perfumes before finally coming out on the other side. The door to the parking lot was open now, and as I stepped through it I saw the band had disappeared, with only a few tangerine peels remaining, scattered around the curb.

From behind me, I heard a drum roll, followed by a crash of cymbals, and the best man was at the microphone, holding his glass aloft. John Miller was behind his drum set, picking at his teeth, while Lucas snuck some more beer into a cup off to the side of the stage. Ted was standing glumly next to his amp, as if he’d lost a bet. I craned my neck, looking for Dexter, but then a large woman in a pink dress stepped in front of the door, blocking my view. And suddenly I just knew I was too late.

I stepped back out into the fresh air, crossing my arms over my chest. Bad timing, again. It was hard not to think this was some kind of cue from the universe, letting me know that this wasn’t the right thing to do. I tried, and failed. There. It was over.

But God! Who could live like this, anyway, with the kind of guesswork that was enough to make a person
crazy,
just sailing along, taking the bumps here and there, no course navigated whatsoever, with any big wave capable of just tipping and sinking you entirely. It was madness, stupidity, and—

Then I saw him. Sitting there on the curb, under a streetlight, knees pulled up to his chest. And for one second, it was like I could feel the timing clicking together, finally, pieces falling into place. Behind me, the best man was winding up his toast, his voice sounding tight, emotional. To the happy couple, he said, and everyone repeated it, their voices blending as one.
To the happy couple.

And then I was walking toward Dexter, folding my fingers tight into my hands. I could hear the cheers as the bridal couple cut their cake. So I took the last few steps of this long journey fast, almost running, before plunking myself down and knocking into Dexter, just enough to tip his balance for a second. Because I knew, now, this was how it had to begin. The only way was to crash in.

I knocked him sideways, startling him. But once he got his equilibrium, and his wits, back, he just looked at me. Not even one word. Because we knew it had to come from me this time.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey.”

I took in his dark curls, the smell of his skin, that cheap tuxedo with the loose threads on the cuff. He was just looking at me, not pulling back, but not moving closer either. And I felt a sudden whirl in my head, knowing this leap was now inevitable, that I wasn’t just on the cliff, toes poking over, but already in midair.

“Did you really believe, that first day, that we were meant to be together?” I asked him.

He looked at me and then said, “You’re here, aren’t you?”

There was only so much space between us, not even a real distance if measured in miles or feet or even inches, all the things that told you how far you’d come or had left to go. But this was a big space, if only for me. And as I moved forward to him, covering it, he waited there on the other side. It was only the last little bit I had to go, but in the end, I knew it would be all I would truly remember. So as I kissed him, bringing this summer and everything else full circle, I let myself fall, and was not scared of the ground I knew would rise up to meet me. Instead, I just pulled him closer, my hand sliding up around his neck to find that one place where I could feel his heartbeat pulsing. It was fast, like my own, and finding it, I pressed down hard, as if it was all that connected us, and kept my finger there.