She Laughs in Pink (Sheridan Hall #1) (13 page)

Frank’s lips are moving. I stop the belt and pull out my earbuds. He takes my hand to help me down, and my legs shake as I step off the machine. After hours of ballet, a brisk walk to and from the train station, and running the marathon mile on the treadmill, my body’s screaming for a rest.

Frank’s muscular, freckled chest makes me think of Chase’s caramel-colored one. “You’re going too hard, Juliet,” he says.

I ignore his disapproving tone. “Can you do me a favor, Frank? Can you put on a shirt, please?”

Frank darts across the hall to room four and returns carrying a plain white tee shirt. He pulls it over his head. “Better?”

I nod.

He leads me to the sofa, where his big body takes up two-thirds of the space. I pull my knees to my chest. “What’s up?” It’s only been a week, but I know Frank is more than a muscle head with a difficult roommate. He’s a new friend, and he’s concerned.

“Nothing,” I lie. When he tilts his head and scoffs, I huff. “Fine. I’m a little off track.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” I try to change the subject. “So, what did my new roommate have on you?”

Frank shakes his head. “Nope. You first.”

Something in Frank’s eyes tells me I can trust him. I could use a guy’s opinion, too. So I tell him about my week, leaving out the R-rated details. I tell him about Ben, Chase, Megan, Chase again.

Frank puts his hand over mine. “Sounds messy.”

“Pooja called it ‘muddled’.”

“That’s a good word. So what's your plan?"

Do I need a plan?
"Well, I guess I’ll try to drag myself out of the muddle, get my school work done, dance as much as I can, and meet people who don't live on this floor.”

“That sounds like a great start.” Frank’s life as a personal trainer revolves around making plans for other people. “Your plan, Juliet, will hereby be deemed The Frank Plan.” I giggle as Frank lays it out, holding up his fingers one by one. “One, study. Two, dance. Three, get out of the basement. Sound good?”

I nod.

“For now though, you want to watch a movie?" His boyish grin makes me smile.

“I’d love to. I'm sweaty and smelly.” I rub my face over my shoulder to wipe the sweat.

“Juliet, I live with Rocco. Do you think I don’t know sweaty and smelly?”

“Good point.” But I can’t imagine Rocco smells.

Frank disappears and returns with
Die Hard
and a blanket. We snuggle on the couch and get lost in the world of John McClane.
Now there’s a guy I can warm up to
. I’m hopeful as I shut my eyes and fall asleep burrowed next to Frank O’Leary’s big warm body.

Chapter Twelve

Chase

I weave my way into the basement of Sheridan trying to remember which door is mine. Loud noises and flashes of light burst into the hallway from the lounge. I make myself move in that direction to see what’s going on.

Juliet and Frank are asleep on the couch, with
Die Hard
blaring from the television. Rodrigo snores on the recliner, the remote teetering on the arm. I turn off the television and the room goes dark and quiet.

I sit in front of Juliet. I’d been a total dick to her. I can't remember why as I reach out to trace her cheek. My head spins from alcohol. I try to stop my hand from shaking, but I can’t. My finger lands on her nose.

She opens her eyes. When she sees me, she flips over toward the back of the couch, into Frank’s chest, and instantly I’m jealous. Frank’s going to fall in love with her. Once she’s in your arms, you can’t help it. I’m certain every man she meets will fall in love with her at some point—even Ben.

The sleeve of her black ballet sweater falls off her shoulder. I trail my fingers over her bare skin.
So soft.
She wiggles and inches closer to Frank. I pull her sweater over her shoulder and give her a shake. “Wake up, Juliet.”

Juliet stretches, yawning. Her sleepy eyes focus, meet mine, then look away. She stands, fixes the blanket over Frank, then walks past me to the hallway, stretching her arms over her head.

“Are you going to talk to me?” I ask, admiring the curves of her body as she walks toward her room.

I cringe at her maniacal laugh. “Wouldn’t want to burden you with my stalker talk.”

I vaguely recall labeling her a stalker earlier on the street.
I’m such an asshole.

I stumble down the hallway behind her and reach her doorknob just as she’s about to turn it. I hold it so she can’t open the door.

“Let go, Chase,” she huffs.

“Not until you listen to me.” I try my best to sound sober.

“Go away, or I’ll scream.”

I have no doubt she would. She’s stubborn like that. But so am I. “No.”

She pulls at the doorknob but I keep my grip strong until she gives up and turns to me. “I’ve been trying to talk to you all day and all you did was ignore me. What is so damn important at two o'clock in the morning that you have to talk to me now? What, Chase?” Her arms flail and land across her chest.

Her gaze sears into mine, and the intensity sobers me. I want to kiss her, or punch a wall—maybe both. “I just need to say I’m sorry.”

“Fine. Now let me in my room,” she snaps, still angry.

I sink under the weight of my day—Gram, the alcohol, my messy life on the other side of the river—and my shoulders sag. My head drops to the side and rests on her door. My face must be priceless because Juliet’s expression softens instantly.

She lets go of the doorknob. “What’s wrong?”

I slam my head into Juliet’s door and she gasps, her eyes wide. “Jeez, Chase, what is it?”

It’s hard for me to say the words, so I slam my head again. I’m numb, so I don’t feel it.

“Stop!” she says and opens the door. “Get in.” She waits for me to step into the dark room.

I hesitate and whisper, “But, Pooja—”

"She’s not here. She’s spending the night away with Rocco."

I follow Juliet into the room and she clicks on her desk lamp.
She’s spending the night with Rocco
?

“A lot’s happened here today.” She hands me a bottle of water, which I open immediately. The water is like heaven on my raw throat. She shakes three pills from a bottle.

Ah, pills. My best friends.
“What is it?”

“Advil. Now what’s going on?”

I swallow the pills and lean against her desk. “Rob met me for lunch. At a fucking diner. He told me that my grandmother…she’s…dying.” I choke out the words.

“What?” Juliet’s eyes spring wide open. “Oh my God, Chase. I’m so sorry!" She throws her arms around me. I grasp her and hold on to her for dear life. This is exactly what I need. We stand there, Juliet pulling back to look at me as I talk. She wipes my tears away and tries to hide hers.

When everything has been said, she takes my hands and we sit next to each other on her bed, our backs against the wall. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. My grandmother is my whole world.” Then, as if a demon were possessing me, I hear myself say, “I can’t do drama with you, Juliet.” She lifts an eyebrow. “I don’t have it in me. I can’t do it. I have to concentrate on my grandmother.”

I try to let go of her hands, but she won’t let me. “I can help you.”

"No.” I yank my hands out of her grasp. “Nobody can, and you’re not mine. Ben…he told me he’s going to talk to you. He was trying to reach you tonight. He told Megan, too.” The damn demon keeps talking. “You should be with Ben.”

“What?” Juliet moves off the bed and stands in front of me, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “Is that what tonight on the street was about? Don’t push me away, Chase.”

I am pushing her away—because of Ben, because of Gram, because of me. “You should be with Ben.”

Juliet’s colors, reds and oranges, fill the area around her. I can’t have this conversation with her. My brain is fried from the day, and I have zero emotional energy. “You don’t mean that. You’re just upset.” She stands and paces the small room.

“I am, but I mean it.” I say it for the third time, “You should be with Ben.” I try to convince myself this is best for everyone, and I don’t want to hear her say anything that will make me change my mind. Even if I beg her to be with me, eventually I’ll lose her. Either she’ll find out I’m not good enough for her, or she’ll realize her Ben fantasy can become reality.

She shakes her head. “How much have you had to drink tonight?”

I sigh, and press my hands into my temples.
Too much. Way too much.
She’s not getting it, so I try a different approach. “We both know what’s been going on between us is just a distraction.”

She jerks back, her brow furrowed. “Distraction? I never thought that. I admit I’ve been a little confused, but…is that what you think of me? I’m just a ‘distraction’?”

I don’t answer. I cross my arms over my chest to mimic her angry stance. Juliet tilts her face and studies me. “So, that’s it? You’re just going to pass me over to Ben?”

" You’ve been chasing him for four years. Don’t tell me a few nights with me changed your mind.”

She’s silent for a moment. “I thought our nights were fun, Chase.”

“It was just a hook up. Now, finally, you’ll get what
you
want.”

She squints and lifts her chin. “What do
you
want?”

What do I want?
I want my grandmother to be healthy. I want to tell Juliet that I think I’m falling in love with her and I want to spend my life painting her portrait, over and over. But I don’t say any of that—I don’t say anything at all.

She asks again, reaching for me, but this time it sounds like a plea. “What do you want?”

I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again. “I th-think we should just be friends.” I wonder if she hears my stutter.

“Friends?” She drags out the word.

Then the demon takes over. “This thing between us exploded. It’s too fast. Too much.” I see no color around her, so I keep talking. “I’m supposed to be getting my life together, but since I’ve been here it’s all falling apart.”

“Friends,” she says again, shaking her head. “You want to be friends? Nothing more?”

I rub my forehead. I’m confusing me, I’m confusing her. I have no idea what I’m saying. Of course I don’t want to be friends, but I have to. I can’t be with Juliet. It’s not going to work. Nothing ever works for me.
Friends.
I hate that word and bite my tongue to fight the urge to scream, to take it all back, to kiss her.
What the hell is happening to me?
I’m a disaster.

Juliet walks to her bed and points. “Lay down.” I don’t, and she makes the same demand more forcefully. “Lay. Down.”

I drop down onto her pillow, and the room starts to spin. I smell her shampoo on her pillowcase as she takes off my shoes and lifts the comforter to my shoulders. “Sleep,” she says.

Through half-closed eyes, I watch Juliet click off the desk light and walk to her closet in the dark room. I see her silhouette as she takes off her clothes. I don’t even try not to look. She’s perfect. After she pulls on her pajamas, I hope she’ll come to me. She doesn’t though. Instead, she walks to the other side of the room and climbs into Pooja’s bed.

“Sleep, Chase,” she says again.

I shut my eyes, hating myself as New Chase struggles to breathe.

Juliet

I lie across the room from Chase and think about Justine. When she died, there was nothing anyone could say to console me. In fact, when people tried to console me I got angry. The only thing I wanted was to be left alone. I don’t want to leave Chase alone though. I don’t want him to feel lost the way I did. Across the room, I’m miles away from him. Moonlight streams through my blinds, and I can tell his eyes are open. We stare at each other.

My phone buzzes with a text from Pooja.

Tell him about your twin
.

How Pooja even knows I’m with Chase is beyond me, but since she’s a mystical witch and all I take her advice. “Chase?” I whisper.

“Yeah?”

“Um. I had a twin.”

Chase sits up on my bed. “What?”

“She died. She was killed.” I’ve never talked about Justine out loud, even right after it happened—not to my parents, not to the press. I didn’t have to go to court, since her killer, thankfully, killed himself, too. “Her name was Justine. It was my fault.”

Without pause, Chase walks to Pooja’s bed. I know I shouldn’t, but I scoot over and cover us with the comforter as Chase wraps his arms around me. “Oh, baby,” he says. “I’m so sorry.”

“She was an artist like you. She was accepted to an arts high school in Philadelphia. It happened the summer before she started.”

He squeezes me tighter, and I’m grateful it’s dark because my eyes well with tears. “It wasn’t your fault, Juliet. No matter what.”

It was my fault, but I don’t think I’m stable enough to get into details with Chase tonight. “I want you to know you don’t have to push me away. I’m tougher than I seem.”

Chase kisses my head. “I know you’re tough. It’s just…I’m not.”

“Nobody knows about Justine, Chase. Not even Ben. We moved to Evander after things settled down and I met Ben my first day of school. I never told him. Ben was my lifeline after she died. I didn’t want to spoil that with the horrible story of her death.”

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” He strokes my hair, and I wiggle back to burrow into him, to hide from my feelings. I don’t want to talk anymore—I only want Chase’s arms around me. He holds me tightly, but neither of us says anything else. Eventually, we fall asleep.

It’s five-thirty when I open my eyes. I study Chase, and when he stirs, I turn my back to him and pretend to sleep. I don’t want to talk about Justine or his grandmother. I don’t want to talk about being friends. Chase had a rough time yesterday. Maybe he’ll wake and say he was drunk, or upset about his grandmother, or just crazy, and take the friend stuff back.

But what about Ben?
Chase said Ben was going to talk to me today. I decide to hide under Pooja’s warm comforter for the next year or so, or at least until I figure it all out.

Chase

I wake up and try to focus, disoriented until I see Juliet. We’re in Pooja’s bed. Juliet’s back is to me, her hair spread over the pillow. I find my phone and check the time. Even though it’s early, I have to go see Gram.

I’m as quiet as I can possibly be when I roll out of Pooja’s bed. As I stand up, my hangover hits me hard. My head throbs. Flashes of yesterday race through my mind: Rob, Juliet, the guys. I find my shoes and peek over Juliet’s shoulder. She looks like an angel, her dark eyelashes reaching her cheeks. I bend down and lightly kiss her and whisper, “I’m sorry,” instead of “I think you’re amazing.” She’s so goddamn beautiful, asleep in a cloud of purple. Seeing the colors doesn’t even freak me out anymore.
I’ll paint her in purple next time.

When Juliet told me about her sister and her connection to Ben, her obsession finally made sense. Juliet must be holding onto Ben because she’s scared if she doesn’t it will be like losing Justine all over again. Ben kind of became her Justine when Justine died. She feels this suffocating guilt, but Ben helps her breathe.

I touch her cheek, pull the comforter over her shoulder and leave her to rest. I have to get to Gram. I need to get my shit together and quickly. My grandmother’s going to rely on me to be strong for her, but mentally, I’m a mess. It’s not fair for me to be so selfish in her last months, especially after all she’s done for me.