The Queen of Bright and Shiny Things (16 page)

Not like me. And I’m so afraid that if I tell you everything, you won’t see me as more than the pieces they swept up after.

Shane lets out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. “At this point, I should probably say, stay away from me. I don’t have anything good to give you right now, but then I think about not talking to you anymore and my chest hurts.”

“I can’t,” I point out. “You moved into my locker. Look, we’ll take it one day at a time. It’s pretty clear I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. So … relax.”

“I don’t know how to be a boyfriend,” he warns me.

I cock a brow at him, smiling. “That’s too bad … since I have a PhD in girlfriendology from the University of So Many Feelings.”

He laughs, as I intend. Then he’s leaning toward me. I have a panicked moment when I worry that I won’t know what to do, but when he tilts his head, I go the other way automatically, and it’s pretty natural when our lips meet. He kisses me tenderly, and it’s everything a first kiss should be. I sink my hands into his curls as his arms go around me. Shane’s so warm, his lips moving on mine in slow, gentle glides. It’s a sunbeam of a kiss, all delicious heat and lazy pleasure. When Shane pulls away, I can’t restrain a ridiculous smile. He seems pleased with himself, cuddling me close so we can pretend to watch the rest of the movie. By the time it ends, it’s after midnight and the storm has worsened.

“You’re not walking home in this,” I tell him.

“I wasn’t looking forward to it. Are you asking me to stay over?”

“Not for sex.” It seems best to make that clear.

“Damn.” Obviously teasing, he makes a mock-disappointed face, as if he really thought that was on the table. “I can take the couch—”

“I’d rather have you with me.” This is a unique opportunity to be close to Shane, so I can’t look a gift horse—or storm—in the mouth. We can probably make do in my bed. It’s a daybed, but if we curl up close, it should work. Aunt Gabby has a bigger one, but it would be too weird to sleep in there with Shane. It’s odd as I go about the nightly check, which my aunt usually performs. She looks at all the windows and doors, making sure everything is fastened and bolted. Two women living alone can’t be too careful, she says, and I appreciate that she doesn’t call me a kid.

“Do you do this every night?” he asks.

“My aunt does.”

After I’m sure the house is as safe as we can make it, I turn out most of the lights and lead the way back to my bedroom. Then I find Shane a large University of Michigan shirt that my aunt stole from some past boyfriend and never gave back. I’m wondering,
Do we have spare toothbrushes in the bathroom? I think so
. Aunt Gabby buys stuff when it’s on sale. So I pull a new blue one from an open package and hand it to him.

“You can wash up and change in the bathroom.”

This isn’t a normal date; I know that much. They usually end because somebody has a curfew, or people waiting at home, but the way things have worked out, nothing is ordinary between us. And maybe that’s how it should be.

While he’s occupied, I put on my pajamas quickly. I’m grateful they’re long-sleeved because I don’t want to have that conversation with him tonight. Most people don’t notice, but I’ve always got on a sweater, shrug, or hoodie, covering my arms. For some girls, it might be the fact that their biceps aren’t toned enough, but I’m hiding something else entirely.

Shane grins when he sees me in the green thermal jammies. Clearly I’ve dressed for seduction. But he’s still wearing his jeans, though he’s barefoot now and I can see he’s washed his face. I still need a turn in the bathroom.

“You can take them off,” I say, embarrassed. “You have on boxers, right?”

He nods. As I head off to brush my teeth, I tell myself it’s no different from shorts and a T-shirt and I’m wearing enough clothes for both of us. I putter, taking more time than usual. When I get back, he’s already in bed. He’s left the cushions behind him, pressed up against the back of the daybed to leave me more room. It’s a good idea and if I sleep on my side, too, we should manage. I flick off the light, then walk toward him, wondering if he’s as nervous as I am. What if I snore or drool? We don’t know each other well enough to get past that.
Do we?
In some ways, it feels like I’ve known him forever, as if I’ve waited for him twice that long.

Crazily, it feels like this is exactly where we’re supposed to be.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Lying in Shane’s arms is the best thing in the world.

I mean, it takes us a while to work out the perfect position—and there’s some awkward squirming—but once I settle against his chest, I feel like a bomb could go off and I’d still be safe. I’m not used to that feeling. The last time I had it, I was with my dad. When I was little, he’d always take me to see the Fourth of July parade and he’d toss me up onto his shoulders, so I could see better and I never once thought he’d let me fall. Snuggled up against Shane, that’s exactly how I feel right now. Well, the security part, not the dad part. Not even close.

“Can I ask you something?”

He stirs against me, moving his hand over my back. “I think you just did.”

“What was it like with your mom?” Maybe the question is too personal, but I want to understand him, and this seems like the obvious place to start.

“There were good days and bad days. When she was in remission, I could pretend everything was fine. She did more then. Worked on her songs.”

“She was a musician, too?”

“Yeah. She’s the one who taught me to play the guitar. I can’t remember a time when she wasn’t singing … except at the very end.”

“Alto or soprano?”

“Alto. When I was a kid, I thought all moms made up songs about broccoli.”

“She sounds like she was wonderful.”

Shane nods; I feel the movement against my head. That’s how close we are. Maybe it’s easier for him to talk about her because it’s dark and he can’t see my face. “It’s been nine months, but sometimes I forget. Like, I wake up in a panic because I can’t remember if she’s had all her meds.”

“I have bad dreams, too.” Hopefully he won’t ask about them. I also hope he doesn’t think I’m saying that for attention. I just want him to know that he’s not alone.

“Not tonight,” he promises. “Not when we’re together.”

“You either.”

“I feel okay,” he says.

That’s enough to make me smile. “Night,” I whisper.

I expect to have trouble sleeping, but the next thing I know, it’s morning with light shining through my window and birds making a racket outside. (Did I ever mention that I hate birds?) Shane looks cute, even at this hour. He’s grown faint scruff on his jaw and his lashes are tangled, giving glimpses of his blue eyes like glimmers of sky through a canopy of leaves. He’s smiling, I think, as I roll out of bed. I’m a little stiff from staying in the same position all night, but nothing serious.

I’m weirdly nervous and excited at the same time. I’ve never slept with anyone before, not even girls at sleepovers because life with my mom didn’t permit anything like that … and I didn’t have any close girlfriends before this year. Besides, I don’t think Lila would want to spoon in my bed even if she did stay over. I picture her camping out on the floor instead.

“You want some breakfast?” I ask.

According to my alarm clock, it’s 8:10. I can’t imagine Joe will bring my aunt back too early, so we have time. It’s nearly an hour from the city, too. Shane rolls out of bed and scrambles into his jeans so fast that I don’t see much, then I’m left thinking about morning wood. He was holding me away from him, so I wonder—

He interrupts my blush-inducing thoughts with, “Yeah, that’d be nice. Then I need to get home. I have some things to do before my shift.”

As I look on, Shane swaps the U of M tee for his button-up and I suddenly have butterflies in my stomach. His bare chest is … delicious. He’s lean and strong without being too muscled. I don’t let on that I’ve never seen a half-naked guy up close and personal before. It’s my private opinion that I should win an Oscar for being
so very cool
about all of this.

I search my brain for reasonable response. “When do you work?”

“Three to eleven, Saturday, Monday, and Tuesday.”

I’m pleased to hear he’ll have Fridays free, though I can’t assume he’ll want to do this every week. And he certainly can’t stay over all the time. “Noted.”

In the kitchen, I whip up some scrambled eggs and toast. He eats quickly, but I think it’s a sign that he’s worried about being here when my aunt gets home. Afterward, he leans down to kiss me. For a few seconds, I forget my own name.

I’m dazed when he says, “See you tomorrow?” like that’s a question.

“Yeah. That reminds me … I told my aunt I’d do the shopping for tomorrow’s lunch. So when I show up at the P&K, don’t assume it’s because I’m stalking you.”

“If I was going to think that, it would’ve been when you showed up at my house, out in the middle of nowhere.”

He has a point—and it’s closer to true than I’d like to admit. “Then see you later, maybe.”

“Do you want me to help you clean up?” I shake my head, but he totally gets twenty gold stars for offering. “Later, Sage.”

Shane shrugs into his jacket and he’s out the door at a quick jog. I’d like to say I don’t stand at the window to watch until he turns off my street. That would be a lie. Eventually I get motivated enough to clean the kitchen and hide the evidence of my sleepover. I feel so awful; this is the first truly bad thing I’ve done since I got here. So I work like crazy all morning to make up for it. The house is spotless by the time Aunt Gabby sweeps in at ten; she doesn’t have time to do anything but change her clothes before work. I’m glad Joe doesn’t come in. Though I like the guy well enough, I’m not eager to make conversation on a Saturday morning, especially when I suspect he boned my aunt the night before.

“You have enough money to buy stuff for tomorrow? If not, there’s some cash in the coffee can,” she tells me as she sweeps out the door.

“Bye!” I call, feeling guilty that she trusts me and here I let a boy spend the night.

She can never find out. She thinks you’re better, that you’re good.

I do a couple hours of homework while ignoring the
ping
of texts from Ryan. Once I finish, I check my phone, still in my bag from the night before. To my surprise, they’re not just from Ryan. I have messages from multiple people, including Lila and the sophomores.

Text from Ryan:
did u have fun last night

Text from Lila:
will pick u up at 7:15, ok?

I realize then that I haven’t asked my aunt if I can go to a party at the Barn. She thinks we’re making lasagna tonight.
Crap
. Having a social life is complicated. The other messages are confirming the time for lunch tomorrow. Quickly I send replies:
yes, yes,
and
2:30, see you then.

If I do some prep work, we can probably put together the pasta before I leave with Lila. So I head to the market to do the shopping, then I get to work in the kitchen.

Later, when Aunt Gabby calls, I say, “All we need to do is finish up when you get here.”

“This much ambition means you want something.”

She’s sharp, my aunt. “Y’know. I forgot to ask earlier, but … is it okay if I go with Lila to a party out at the Barn tonight? Transportation is covered.”

“No drinking to excess,” she says. “And be home by midnight.”

It’s cool that she doesn’t ask if there will be liquor or parental supervision. Since my aunt grew up here, she knows what goes on out at the Barn, and I’m sure she partied out there a time or two, back in the day. Instead she trusts me not to drink until I vomit or do anything ridiculous.

“Done,” I promise.

“And I expect to hear about Shane while we fix the lasagnas. Those are my terms.”

“I accept.”

Just then, I hear the bell jingle, which means she has an actual customer, not an order from the interwebs. “Gotta go. See you in a bit.”

I spend the rest of the day getting ready for the party. This is my first time, but I figure nobody dresses up, so I go with jeans and a sparkly cream sweater. In the dark, I doubt anybody will notice, but I think it’s pretty. Then I put on an apron in case I manage to get red sauce on me. I’ll do my hair and makeup after we finish.

When my aunt gets home, I have everything set out with military precision. She laughs at how prepared I am. “You really want to go, huh?”

“Yeah,” I admit. “I’d like to see what it’s all about.”

“I’m really glad to see you branching out, making new friends. I’m looking forward to meeting them all tomorrow.”

“Should be fun.”

“So … Shane,” she prompts, filling the bottom of the pan with lasagna noodles.

Aunt Gabby is a pro at putting all of this together, so I stand back. I’ve done my share by getting it all ready and I’ll handle the salad tomorrow, plus cleanup. Taking a seat at the table, I watch while she spoons in the veggie and soy filling, cottage cheese, mozzarella, then the next layer of pasta.

“He’s phenomenal.”

“Two words aren’t getting you to a party tonight.”

I grin … and recount how the date went. Pretty much the only things I leave out are the kissing and the fact that he spent the night in my bed. I tell her that he’s a gifted guitar player and that he applied at the P&K after she told me about the
HELP WANTED
sign and that he got the job to help out with family expenses. I don’t share that his dad is a long-haul trucker who doesn’t even live with him.
Asshole
.

“A musician, huh?” Her smile seems extra curvy. “I dated one in college. Just wait until he writes you a song. That’s a guaranteed panty-dropper.”

“You
did not
just say that. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to use that phrase.”

She shrugs as she puts the lasagna in the fridge. “You’re sixteen. Get over it.”

So Aunt Gabby only gets awkward and embarrassed when discussing
her
prospective sex life. Mine is apparently fair game. I mumble something about doing my hair and makeup and escape to my bedroom. As I’m getting ready, I wonder if there will be a bonfire out at the Barn—what it’ll be like exactly. This is what cool people do on weekends instead of seeing movies or hanging out in the square.