The Heartbreakers (15 page)

“I'll stay until they get back.”

“No. You don't have to do that.”

“It's not like I have anywhere else to be.” He settled into the chair that was angled off the end of the couch. “And what if you run out of fruit or something? Are you going to make more appear with your brain waves?”

She laughed, feeling the giggles of exhaustion creeping in. She just needed to sleep. “Well, thanks for staying.”

“You're welcome.”

Propping herself up with an elbow, she took a long drink of water. Her throat was dry from playing outside. As she
pulled the glass away, she spilled, water dribbling down the front of her.

“Crap.” What was her problem today? Was she losing all of her fine motor skills?

“I got it.” Ben jumped up and ran to the kitchen. He came back with several hand towels. He crouched by the side of the couch and wiped the water up.

“Thanks.” She lay her head back down, and she realized that she was now only inches from Ben's face.

“Alexia?” he said, his voice going soft, his fruity breath fanning across her face. His unruly brown hair had been matted down since earlier that morning and several strands hung in his line of sight.

“Yeah?” she said.

“Can I kiss you?”

Now she was too hot. And parched again. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“I…uh…” Words were suddenly failing her. His breath smelled like grapes, but what if hers smelled like feet? She'd always imagined her first kiss with a boy would be somewhat planned out so she'd have time to brush her teeth or pop in a mint. Ben was ruining the plan! She almost asked him to wait a while, at least five minutes so she could hobble to the bathroom to scrub her teeth (twice, maybe even three times).

And what if she did it wrong? The kissing. Not the teeth brushing. What if she used her tongue when he just wanted to smooch? How were you supposed to know these things?

“I'll count to five,” he said, sitting on his knees. “So it's not so awkward.”

Was this protocol? To talk about a kiss before it happened? She had no idea because she had never been kissed!

“One…”

She got that weak feeling in her stomach.

“Two…”

And then he kissed her. A breath sputtered down her throat from the surprise. He guided her gently as if sensing her unease. Her mind went blank and she threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer.

I'm kissing a boy, she thought absently. And it is perfect.

Rule 2:
You must not call The Ex's answering machine or voice mail just to hear his voice
.

“Please, work the night shift for me, Raven,” Ms. Valenti said. “I can't get hold of anyone else and I have to work on this design tonight.” She nodded at the desk piled high with paper and old photos of the family.

“Mom,” Raven began, running through the list of possible excuses. She had homework? A huge essay due? She was ill?

“I don't have anyone else, honey, and it's just one night. You know I wouldn't ask you unless I really needed the help.”

She was right. She didn't ever ask Raven to work at Scrappe, and seeing the look on her mother's face—brow furrowed with worry—Raven was having a hard time saying no.

She sighed. “How about we make a deal?”

“A reasonable one?”

Raven nodded. “I think so.”

“Well, try me.”

Raven explained how the student council was going to hold an open-mike night/bake-sale fund-raiser for band
uniforms. Then she slipped in the fact that they needed a place to hold it. For free.

Ms. Valenti's frown deepened and she rubbed the bridge of her nose. “It's a lot of work, holding a party.”

“I know, but you wouldn't really have to do anything.”

“Let me check the calendar. Which night were they thinking?”

“The thirty-first of March.”

Ms. Valenti flipped through her planner. “Well, I don't have anything scheduled for that night, so I'll say yes, if you please cover tonight's shift.”

Sydney would be happy to hear the student council had a place to hold their fund-raiser for the stupid band uniforms, but Raven wasn't so happy she had to work tonight. What if Horace had tonight's shift, too? Her stomach knotted, thinking about it, for good reasons and bad. She always looked forward to seeing him, but when she did, there was always an uncomfortable tension, though mostly that was on her part. Horace never seemed uncomfortable anywhere, even in school. He was like a chameleon, moving seamlessly through the cliques. Everyone liked him. Well, except Caleb.

“I guess I better go get ready,” Raven said. “I have to be there when?”

“Four.”

She looked at the clock on her mother's white walls. She only had an hour. Better hustle.

“You want me to come over?” Sydney asked through the phone, crossing her legs beneath her as she sat at the kitchen table.

“No, I'm fine,” Alexia said. “I've got plenty of Advil, and I think I'm going to go to sleep soon anyway.”

“Okay.” Sydney tried sounding upbeat, but truthfully she was dying to get out of the house. It was so quiet she could hear the ticking of the fish clock behind her. The one her father just had to have when they went on vacation to Canada five years ago. The ticking was the fish's tail swinging back and forth.

That trip seemed so long ago now. It was before her mother became so immersed in her work that she forgot she had a house and a family inside of it.

Sydney was waiting to hear the D-word any day now. There was no doubt in her mind that her parents loved each other, but they didn't spend time together anymore.

Ms. Valenti and Mr. Andrews (they always had different last names because Ms. Valenti was
crazy
independent) had divorced several years ago, and Sydney had never seen Raven as depressed as she had been during the divorce.

It frightened Sydney to imagine herself going through the same pain. Of course, Mr. Andrews had been having an affair, which probably made that divorce worse.

“I better go,” Alexia said, bringing Sydney out of her reverie.

“If you need anything, just call.” God, let her need something, like some company! Sydney was going to go insane soon if she didn't get out of the house.

They said good-bye and Sydney hung up. She propped her elbow on the table and set her chin in her hand. Her homework was done, there was nothing on TV, her dad was upstairs reading.

It was Saturday night and she had
nothing
to do!

Eyeing the phone, an itch in her fingers, she picked it up and flipped through the old numbers on the caller ID. The oldest call was from February fifth. Drew's number wasn't even on there. Probably it'd been at least six weeks since he last called.

Sydney hit the
ON
button and dialed his number. She had no idea what she was doing. If he answered, she'd make up an excuse on the spot. Or at least she'd try.

But more than anything, she just wanted to hear his voice.

After three rings, voice mail picked up and Sydney closed her eyes, listening.

“This is Drew. Leave it after the beep.”
Beep.

She hit the off button, his voice echoing in her head.

This is Drew. This is Drew.

Now he was going to see her name on his caller ID and he'd realize what a pathetic ex-girlfriend she was. Why didn't she think to dial
^*
67?

She dropped her face in her hands. Everything seemed to be going wrong. All she felt like doing was hiding away in her bedroom with a box of Cheez-Its and twenty-four hours worth of Lifetime movies. She and her mom used to watch them on Sundays in the middle of winter.

I wish my mom were here right now, she thought.

When the fish clock behind her made a splashing sound effect on the hour, Sydney sat up and rubbed her eyes. She tried hardening her emotions, pushing them away, throwing them out over the proverbial dating lake like skipping stones.

Maybe Drew was right. Maybe they did need space. Time to be their own selves, not one-half of a whole—time to have fun. She reached behind her to the small phone table and
grabbed the phone book. She stopped on the Ts, found the number she was looking for, and dialed.

When someone picked up the other end, Sydney took in a deep breath, a new breath, for the new her. “Hey, Craig,” she said. “It's Sydney. Where's the party at tonight?”

The first noticeable smell in Scrappe was ground coffee beans and beneath that, chocolate and vanilla and tea and glue. The scrapbooking area was in a separate room from the coffee shop and was big enough to house two dozen worktables. There was an entire wall of just paper and several racks of stickers and other accessories.

Saturday nights were mostly coffee connoisseurs. The scrapbookers liked coming in the morning, especially during the week when their kids were at school.

Raven headed toward the back room, sending an inconspicuous look off to her right where the coffee bar was. All she had to see was the reddish-blond hair above the espresso machine to know Horace was working tonight. A giddy feeling flipped her stomach and a smile touched her lips as she shut the back room door behind her.

The shift she was covering was five hours. The thought of spending that much time with Horace…no, she wasn't going to go boy-crazy now. She'd vowed to leave Horace alone. She was like a wrecking ball with the opposite sex.

Leaving her bag and coat in her mother's office, Raven went into the coffee shop and made her way to the counter. When she came up, Horace had his back to her, waiting on someone.

He was wearing a pair of destroyed jeans, faded on the legs. They were loose-fitting but oh-so-perfect, especially with the navy blue Henley. His leather boots scuffed the floor as he moved between the espresso machine and small refrigerator.

“Hey,” she said, stepping behind the counter.

He whirled around. “Ray.” A crooked smile spread across his face. “What are you doing here?” He went back to the drink he was making, pouring cold milk in an iced coffee.

“My mom asked me to cover a shift.” She leaned against the counter. “What time do you get out?”

“I work till close.” He stirred the drink, popped a top on, and handed it over to the woman who was waiting. “Thanks,” he said, and she sauntered off to a table, sipping from the cup.

“Looks like we're working together then,” Raven said.

“Yeah.” He pushed up on the leather cord he had wound around his wrist, then the sleeves of his shirt. “Is that cool?”

She looked over at him. He was watching her intently.

“Yeah. I mean, why wouldn't it be?”

He tipped his head to the side, putting his hands on the edge of the counter behind him. “Come on, Ray. There's something weird between us and you know it.” It was a statement, not an accusation, which made her feel like crap because she was pretty sure she was responsible for the weirdness.

“I…uh…” She could feel her face grow warm beneath his gaze. What was she supposed to say to that?

He walked over to her, close enough that she could smell him. He smelled like winter, like cold wind and evergreens. “Listen, I don't need an explanation. I just want to be sure we can be friends.”

Her heartbeat was coming faster now, her fingers clammy. “I'd like that,” she managed to say. “Friends.”

“Good.” He tipped his head in agreement.

“Excuse me.” A woman waved from the other side of the counter. Raven recognized her skunky blond highlights. She was a regular—Mary or Meredith or something. She was a legal secretary for the Daniels, but she acted like she was the top lawyer in Birch Falls. She expected everyone to bend over backward for her. If Raven remembered correctly, she always ordered a small latte with a half shot of crème de menthe, half shot of espresso, with skim milk but whole-milk foam. That was one of the most complicated drinks Raven had ever concocted. And seriously, did she
have
to get whole-milk foam? What was the difference?

“I'd like to order now,” Mary/Meredith said as she flipped through something on her cell phone.

“I got it,” Raven said to Horace.

“Okay. I'll be in the back if you need me. I have to move some stuff around for your mom.”

She nodded as he slipped past her. She watched him cross the shop.

“Excuse me,” Mary/Meredith said again. “I'm kind of in a hurry.”

Of course she was. She probably had some papers to file or something. Raven groaned internally. “Sorry,” she said, projecting cheerfulness. “What can I get for you?”

The night had gone well, Raven thought. The awkwardness between her and Horace had seemed to settle down after
he confronted her. She felt ten times better around him.

She pushed the on button for the espresso machine, running boiling hot water through the ports to clean out any leftover grounds. When the water ran clear, she got out the scrub brush and started scrubbing.

Horace went to the front door and locked it, then turned off the neon open sign hanging in the window. “You're getting the machine?”

“Yeah.”

“I'll do the coffee thermoses then.” He grabbed two of them off the counter and took them in back.

Outside, the sun had set a few hours ago and the night was dark from the absent moon. It wasn't even ten o'clock yet. It'd take them probably twenty minutes to close up and then…she'd have nothing to do for the rest of the night. She wondered what her friends were up to.

After everything was clean behind the counter, Raven put all the dirty dishes in a tub and took them into the back room where the big utility sink was. Horace was just finishing with the thermoses.

“I'll rinse if you want. I'm done here,” he said, moving the thermoses out of the way.

“Yeah, okay.”

Raven filled the sink with hot soapy water and started washing as Horace hiked up his sleeves.

“You think you'll work again anytime soon?” he asked, turning on the faucet to start rinsing.

She shrugged. “If my mom needs help, maybe.”

“I liked working with you.” He turned a measuring cup beneath the stream of water, the suds cascading down the drain. “Really. I like hanging out with you, Ray.”

“I like hanging out with you, too.”

“We can do it more often. As friends. You don't have to avoid me because of…everything.”

“I wasn't avoiding you—”

“You were avoiding me,” he argued, but with a smile.

She didn't say anything because 1) she didn't know what to say, and 2) he was right.

“You know,” he said, “I keep thinking, I never should have kissed you on the bus or at that party. We'd still be—”

“Stop.”

He glanced over. “What?”

“It's not your fault. Don't even think that.”

“Then what is it?”

She dropped the sponge in the soapy water and dried her hands off. Could she put into words what her problem was? And if she could, would it even make sense to Horace? Forget The Code. This wasn't so much about following the rules as it was saving Horace some trouble. A relationship with her was an atom bomb waiting to explode. Didn't he see that? It was no secret around school that she
was
a serial dater, just like Caleb had accused last night.

Maybe Horace had a penchant for pain.

She decided he deserved honesty if nothing else. “I don't want to hurt you.”

He grunted. “Maybe I'd rather risk being hurt.”

She shook her head. “You say that now—”

“Ray.”

“What?”

“You're being too hard on yourself.”

“I have a problem with relationships, Horace. You deserve someone better than me.”

“There is no one better than you.”

A lump formed in her throat. No one had ever said anything like that to her. Not a single one of the boys she'd gone out with in the past. And how many had there been? Twenty? Jordan held the official count.

Raven flicked her eyes to him. “Thanks…for saying that. It means a lot.”

“I meant it.”

She smiled. “I know you did.” But even if he thought it was true, it didn't mean it was.