She Laughs in Pink (Sheridan Hall #1) (16 page)

I exhale.

I’m glad you’re getting what you want from Ben.

She doesn’t respond, so I do.

Are you touching yourself?

Really? Goodnight, Coop.

Chase, please. Coop is another life. Or Sexy Train Man works, too.

Goodnight, Chase, Sexy Train Man.

I miss you already.

Chapter Fifteen

Juliet

The next few weeks fly by rather uneventfully, except for the fact that I have Ben. We start dating, finally, and I sink about ten notches down the anxiety meter. The Magic of Ben works its charm on me. I’ve never felt so…simple. Everything is so easy with Ben. He’s exactly how I thought he would be as a boyfriend. He’s busy with football, so I have plenty of time to dance and study. We don’t obsess with each other. We go with the flow and our lives fit together perfectly, like puzzle pieces.

Everything with Ben is great—except that I think about Chase—constantly.

I worry about his grandmother. I wonder what’s going on with him and Sara. When Gram moves into the hospital, Chase spends more and more nights away from the dorm, away from me. I try to forget the first week of school, but each minute I spend in Ben’s room, with Chase’s empty bed next to us, I miss him.

One day after Ben left for early practice, I locked the door behind him and crawled into Chase’s bed just to feel close to him. At dance class I look out the window during
barre
work, hoping for a glimpse of him or a clue into his life. Only once did I see him through the window, painting on an easel set up in his living room.

In a way, Chase being gone so much makes things easier with Ben. I hope as Ben and I progress, I’ll be able to channel my feelings for Chase more toward friendship and away from my-heart-beats-like-a-drum-at-the-sight-of-you. After all, Chase seems perfectly content with just being friends. There’s no reason I can’t do the same.

Except, I can’t.

Despite his elusiveness, Chase walks me to class every Monday. I try not to think too hard about that. I’m afraid if I question it, it will stop. Every Monday, I wake up early, shower, and wait for him to knock.

Even Ben knows not to bother me on these mornings. “Jules, really,” Ben says. “I understand. You guys are friends. He needs you.” That Ben trusts me completely both calms and irks me. In a way, I wish he’d be jealous.

Regardless, the fifteen-minute walk to my Monday morning history class feels like five minutes. Chase and I chat the entire time. His Gram’s disease is progressing, and our talks are becoming more and more serious. But sometimes, emotionally drained from the weekend with his uncle and grandmother, he acts super silly—teasing me about Ben, about the train, about ballet, about the night I hung out with his friends.

When I beg him to stop teasing, he says, “I like to see your laugh.” I don’t know what he means. How can you see a laugh? But I’m glad I can make him smile.

Despite our new friend status, I still have to fight to keep from touching him. My hands are like magnets, and he’s the metal. So I jam them into the pockets of my sweater to keep from reaching for him. I wonder how he keeps himself under control around me, even though I know it’s for the best. Even without touching him, I always fight a pang of sadness when he drops me off at my class and turns to walk away.

When I tell Pooja about the magnet hands problem, she says, “Hmm,” and tosses me a Diet Coke.

“Oh, no.” Sometimes her gift annoys me, especially when she says something cryptic. “Do I want to know?”

Pooja crawls to the foot of her bed and opens her top drawer. She throws a candy bar at me to go with my soda. Diet Coke and chocolate is her favorite combo and she’s turning me into a fan, too. “You’re still muddled.”

I don’t know what to say. “I’m happy, Pooj. How can I be happy and muddled?”

“Be honest with yourself, Juliet. Follow your heart. It will take you where you need to go.” More Pooja fortune cookie talk.

When I explore Pooja’s “follow your heart” advice, I end up at the dance studio. Always, my heart tells me to dance. One night after class, something, maybe my heart again, makes me trot across the street and fling open the door to the art gallery.

Inside, I see myself. All over the place.

“Juliet! What are you doing here?” Chase’s Uncle Rob asks, walking toward me.

I can’t speak. My mouth opens but no words come out, so I point at the wall.

Rob shrugs. “Chase doesn’t know I hung them. I pulled them from his closet. They’re pretty great, huh?”

I study the wall of ballerinas. All brunette, all
en pointe
, with Chase’s name scribbled in the corner of each. I count ten paintings before Uncle Rob stands next to me.

Each is more gorgeous than the next. In one picture, the ballerina—presumably me—is holding an
arabesque
. Her arms and legs are so long and extended, they reach the entire length and width of the canvas. Pink swirls surround her, dancing around her body. “They’re amazing.”

“The purple one is my favorite.” Rob points to the painting of the ballerina lying on a bed in a black leotard and toe shoes, toes pointed and arms crossed, eyes closed peacefully, surrounded in purple swirls. “Chase is not going to be happy if he finds out. Gloria wanted to feature him. I took pictures and a video to show her.”

I step down the line and study the paintings, trying to place where Chase found the inspiration for each of them. The almost-naked torso painting is no mystery. There’s the view of the ballet studio from his living room window. It’s foggy, but the ballerina is seen twice, once through the window and also in the mirror’s reflection. Another shows the ballerina stretching her arches, looking down at her feet, smiling as her hair falls out of her bun. I love how he sees me, so confident and beautiful. He sees me the way he makes me feel. It’s kind of amazing.

“He’s really going through a tough time about Gloria,” Rob says. “The only time I see him smile is when he’s painting. And on Monday mornings.” He grins knowingly.

“I wish he’d let me do something more for him.” I trace a finger over a frame, and my heart aches for Chase.

Rob gestures to the walls. “Apparently you’re helping him without even trying.”

Hearing Rob’s words and seeing the paintings of myself, of my naked torso, my head resting on a pillow, my arms wrapped around myself, something happens inside of me. Something clicks. Ben or no Ben, despite our short time together, Chase and I connected.

“I won’t tell Chase you hung the paintings if you promise to keep a secret for me, too.” I ask Rob where Chase’s grandmother is hospitalized. I write down the address and room number and head back to NJU.

The next day, I bring a bouquet of flowers to the hospital. I sign in under a fake name and spend time with Gloria. I make her promise not to tell Chase. I don’t want him to think I’m stalking his life or inserting myself where I’m not wanted.

That night, I tell Pooja that I’m trying to follow my heart but it’s bringing me all over the place. “It’s not telling me what to do,” I complain.

“It’s telling you, Juliet. You just aren’t listening,” Pooja answers.

Chase

My Monday morning, the last day of October, Juliet greets me with a smile. Not a minute of a day goes by that I don’t want to beg her to be mine, but on Mondays especially the feeling becomes almost overwhelming. I want to tell her how sorry I am for pushing her away. I don’t though. She’s happy with Ben.

Ben.
He’s the kind of friend I want in my life—the kind that’s supportive and truthful, not destructive. I love the guy as much as I love his girlfriend. Well, not quite
that
much. Still, Juliet’s happy with Ben. I know from her colors. Her colors raged with me during that first week. With Ben, she has become a sea of blues and greens. I remind myself I’m okay with it—I can do the friend thing if it’s good for her. Still, I live for Mondays.

Today, on our way to her class, she’s quiet. “What’s up, gorgeous? You seem far away.”

Juliet stares at the ground and kicks fallen leaves as we take our usual route to her classroom. She’s wearing tight jeans, high boots, and a long sweater. The autumn breeze catches her hair, lifting it off her back, and I think about the brush strokes I’ll use to portray it on canvas. “Can I be honest with you?” She scrunches her nose.

“Always.”

She peeks at me, rosy cheeked, then looks quickly back at the ground. “I miss you.”

I wait for her to explain, but she doesn’t. I stop walking. “I’m right here.”

“I know.” The early morning sunlight shines through the changing trees that line the path to Juliet’s history class. The light makes her beautiful eyes flicker. She pulls a few strands of wayward hair away from her face.

She purses her lips, and I fight the urge to lean in and kiss them. I fight urges all the time, things like keeping calm with Juliet, staying sober, and staying sane. Juliet has Ben now. I’ll have to continue fighting the urges if I want to make my bright idea of “friendship” work. It’s friends or nothing with Juliet, and I can’t let her go completely.

“I have this feeling about you,” she says.

I frown. “A feeling?” It’s not like her to stumble over words, and now I’m worried.

“I’m sorry. I sound like Pooja now. Okay, well, it’s more like…an ache.”

I raise my eyebrows, wishing I understood. “About me?”

“I ache for you, Chase.” Her eyes meet mine, and suddenly I know what she’s saying.

I pull her into a hug. Her voice shakes against my chest. I want to keep her here forever. “It’s like a big hole. I know I have Ben now, and you have a dying grandmother, and I know you only want to be friends, but I…Pooja keeps telling me to follow my heart, and I keep following it to you.”

My mind spins. In a split second, I have hope: hope that Juliet’s going to insist we be together, hope that she’s going to say I’m the one she wants, not Ben. “Are you saying you want to be with me? I know I pushed you away—”

She interrupts me. “No. I mean…Ben…I don’t know what I’m saying.”

Ben. Right. Her boyfriend—the one she’s loved forever. My new friend
.

Hope flies away with the breeze, but I’m relieved I’m not the only one confused about our connection. Even though I pushed us apart, being together is the only thing I want right now. I hold her tight, not willing to let her go, not wanting her to run away from this conversation or these feelings. “Can I ask you something?”

She nods against my chest.

“Sometimes, Ben and I talk. Like, really talk. When the conversation goes to you, I try to deflect it, but he told me something I can’t shake.”

“What?”

“Why haven’t you and Ben had sex yet?” I’d almost had a heart attack when Ben asked me for advice.

Juliet pulls away, reds engulfing her. “Excuse me?” She glares, clearly pissed.

“Ben said you two haven’t…you know. He said he would be your first and thought you were just nervous.”

Juliet turns her back to me and starts to stomp away. After a few yards, she jerks around again. “I can’t believe he told you that. Our private…
stuff
…is none of your business!”

“Maybe it is.” I move closer, but she blocks me by crossing her arms over her chest. No way do I intend to let her off the hook. “I’m not trying to upset you, but…is it because of us?” She moves away from me again, but I catch up to her and reach for the arm of her sweater. “Tell me. Tell me it’s not because of us.”

I pull her within inches of me. When she spins around, we’re eye-to-eye, so close I can smell her shampoo as the breeze blows her hair. “It’s not,” she barks through gritted teeth. She tears her arm from my grasp. I know she’s lying by the flicker in her eyes, and
I
know that
she
knows that
I
know she’s lying. I see anger in her colors before she stomps away, but there’s hope. There’s a crack in Juliet’s Ben Shield with my name on it. Sooner or later, we’re going to have to deal with it.

I let Juliet rush away. She’s flustered, and I know she hates being that way, but I think about her for the rest of the day. I made a mistake with this friend thing, and the more I replay our times together the more I want her back. God knows I need her now more than ever. Problem is, now that I know it, she has her Ben, and I hate myself for waiting so damn long.

Will she realize he’s not right for her?
She says she aches for me, but I want her to fight for me the way she fought for him. I’m tired of resisting and sick of lying to myself. Life’s too short. If Juliet wants me, if she gives me one little clue that she’s willing to give me another chance, fuck it—I’m hers.

From halfway across the quad, Juliet spins and glances at me, then turns and continues her march. “But Ben.” I breathe into the fall breeze as I watch Juliet stomp away.

Juliet

Stupid Chase. Stupid Ben.
I can’t believe they sit around and talk about my sex life. Pooja and I stand in front of the mirrors in the ladies’ room, steam surrounding us from the showers. Pooja wears an elaborate silky robe with a tie waist, which puts my plain old towel to shame. I cram the corner of it into my cleavage to hold it up while I exfoliate. Pooja insisted that I partake in her skin cleansing regime so, with cleanser-covered faces, we talk and wait for her wonder products to work their magic.