What She Wanted (18 page)

I had no idea where his dad was now, and I didn’t ask. He’d tell me if he wanted me to know.

I’d had my share of ice cream at this shop, too. I’d come with Mrs. B and with Heidi’s family over the years, but by high school, I didn’t always have the money for something as frivolous as ice cream and hated letting them treat. I’d been saving up to move out since freshman year. Originally, I’d assumed the cash would help me survive on a campus somewhere far from Woodsfield, but Mark had stolen that dream when he didn’t sign my student loan papers.

The passenger door swung open, and Dean stared at me from the gravel lot. “Are you coming?”

Right. Yes. I hopped out and shut the door.

He carried the envelope with the framed photo through the lot and held the shop’s glass door open with his elbow. Music from the nineteen sixties rolled out and invited me inside. The place never changed. Black-and-white checkered floors and white laminate tabletop pulled visitors back in time. The Beatles music helped. Families gathered in knots around tables filled with empty bowls and dirty spoons. Kids sucked on bendy straws impaling plastic cup lids.

The blonde I recognized from the bonfire lit up when Dean walked in. She wasn’t quite so bright when she noticed me trailing behind him.

He stopped to greet her. I took the framed picture and kept moving.

She stroked his arm from shoulder to elbow.

I made my way to the counter and took the last empty seat, while she invaded Dean’s personal space.

“What’ll it be, sweetie?” The old man behind the counter winked at me. His white paper hat fit perfectly on his balding head. His nametag said Mike, but no one needed to read it. Mike and his wife, Iris, had opened the ice cream shop before the Beatles were cool.

“Two chocolate malts, please.” The rich scents of homemade waffle cones and hot fudge hung like spun sugar in the air. Two minutes inside the building and I had a contact high.

He patted the counter with pale, age-spotted hands. He was thinner than I remembered, and his skin seemed too big for his crooked frame. How many treats had those hands served over the years? How many smiles had he made? I slipped my phone from my pocket and caught a photo of him at the malt machine, whistling along as the song changed to “Rockin’ Robin.”

Dean squeezed his lean body between me and the next stool’s occupant. “You can’t go anywhere without finding something to photograph, can you?”

I turned the phone on him and clicked. “Nope.”

“Five dollars.” Mike returned with two big cups.

Dean put a ten on the counter.

“I was paying,” I protested.

He guffawed. “Can you believe this, Mike? She thinks I brought her here to buy me ice cream.”

Mike leaned in conspiratorially. “Yeah? So, what did you bring her here for?”

I dragged the big envelope onto the counter and slid it his way. My secret was officially out. “I made you something for the wall.”

He raised puffy eyebrows and opened the package. “Iris!” He waved a hand overhead and the tiny woman in a matching apron barreled out from the kitchen.

“Yeah?” She wedged glasses onto her nose, careful not to tangle the chain attached from the stems to her neck. “What do you have there?”

Mike’s face burst into a smile. “The Monroe County Mini Moos.”

She slapped a hand to her chest. “Our Marty was a Mini Moo. His Alexander is a Mini Moo now. We’ve been serving free cones to Mini Moos since nineteen fifty-three. Oh, bless your heart, honey. This is fantastic.” She patted my hand and looked at me like I’d given her the moon instead of an old file from my computer.

“No problem.”

She slid the photo from the frame and pushed it toward me.

Mike extracted a marker from his shirt pocket. “Sign it.”

“What?”

Bodies gathered behind me, craning for a look at what had Mike and Iris all worked up. They whispered, naming the little players and taking pictures of my picture with their phones.

My palms slicked with sweat. I rubbed them on my thighs. Now the whole town would know exactly where the pictures on their porches came from.

I fumbled with the marker and dropped it before getting my name across the bottom corner in a somewhat legible fashion.

“It’s perfect.” Iris reframed the shot and carried it to the wall of vintage advertisements. She moved them around until there was room for my picture. “Perfect.” She clapped her palms together.

“You made my Iris happy,” Mike said. “For that, you’re family.”

A stupid tear pricked my eye. For that I was family? People threw the F word around way too carelessly. “Thank you.”

A man with a round face and matching body peeked over Dean’s shoulder. His cologne was like formaldehyde and Old Spice had a baby. “You ever want to watch a Mini Moo game, the bleachers are always open. We provide juice boxes and popcorn to the patrons. Sometimes popsicles. The kids love an audience. Makes them feel like big leaguers.”

Dean twisted to shake the man’s hand. “You had us at juice boxes.”

I laughed. “Thanks.”

The crowd trickled in the direction of my picture. Iris wrapped her arms around Mike’s middle and squeezed. She pressed her cheek against his ribs, and they slow danced amidst the chaos of a packed summer ice cream crowd.

The blonde popped into my periphery.

Fuzzy feelings over.

I turned with my malt for a clear view.

“So, Dean.” She smiled brightly. “We’re heading out to the quarry tonight if you want to come. There’ll be music, a campfire, swimming.” She tipped her head and beamed in utter innuendo.

Yeah. Yeah. We all get it. Suits are optional.

Dean’s gaze jumped to me. “I don’t know.”

She didn’t like that answer. Her posture stiffened and her voice grew firm. She angled her back to me. “Well, do you have other plans?”

I was clearly not on the invite list. Not that I cared or would swim anywhere without a bathing suit. Who knew what lived in the toxic depths of the quarry water, or any water for that matter? Pass.

His expression was impossible to read. Did he want to go but not want to hurt my feelings by ditching me? Did he not want to go but not want to hurt her feelings with a rejection? “No.”

No, he didn’t have plans or no, he wasn’t interested in the party?

Blondie touched his bicep with hot pink nails. Her bottom lip jutted out. “Please?”

Whoever this girl was, she wanted Dean, and she didn’t look like the kind of girl who took no for an answer. Her coral sundress fluttered high on her thighs. Matching cork wedges emphasized the firm curve of her calves. Long blonde hair danced around her hips, like a neon sign pointed at her perfect ass. She tipped her head seductively, arching her back just enough to provide a tall guy like Dean an unobstructed view down her halter top. A preview of the night’s events, no doubt.

To my glorious surprise, Heidi marched through the front door with two of our friends from school, relieving me from the wretched situation.

I smiled at Dean. “There’s Heidi. You should go tonight. Sounds like a good time for you.”

Heidi squealed and wrapped her arms around my waist. “There you are! I tried your house, and Mark told me you were at work, but Essence is closed.”

“Here I am.” I smiled at Trisha and Bonnie beside her. “Hey, how were your trips?”

Trisha had gone on a mission trip with her church for three weeks after graduation and Bonnie had some family vacation I couldn’t remember where. Both girls were in enough of my classes to consider them as friends; though, we’d never spent any time together outside school. Heidi, however, considered all mammals friends, regardless of interaction time or common interests.

“Are you sure?” Dean asked over Heidi’s red head. “We usually do dinner.”

Blondie looked like she’d sucked a lemon.

“Oh, absolutely. I have plans with the girls anyway.” I waved a hand at the trio beside me.

Heidi turned from Dean in slow-mo. Her expression conveyed something along the lines of
are you crazy
and also
liar liar pants on fire
.

I looked to my phone with surprise, as if I’d gotten a message. I sent Heidi a text.
“Please go with this.”

Dean scrutinized the action. He turned knowingly to Heidi and waited for the ding of her phone.

Ding!

She gave it a quick look and put on an overdone smile. “Yes. We’re having a sleepover. Bonnie, Trish, Katy, and I are going to do mani-pedis and watch
Pitch Perfect
1 and 2.”

Oh. My. Lord. I did my best
that’s totally true
nod. I’d only gotten to know Dean recently, but he seriously couldn’t believe that was my plan.

“Okay. Sounds good.” He looked at Blondie. “I guess I’m free. Do you need a ride?”

I choked on the implications and stuffed my straw into my mouth.

“To the quarry?” he added.

“That would be amazing.” She bounced onto her toes.

He turned his back on us to settle details on the skinny-dipping.

Jealousy seared my skin. I sucked long and hard on my straw to cool the fever. This was a ridiculous reaction. Dean wasn’t my boyfriend. We didn’t have plans tonight. What was my problem?

Bonnie and Trish crowded into the space where Dean had stood, successfully bumping him farther away. Their frantic whispers matched the crazed expressions on their faces. “Holy Hawkeye. You’re dating Dean-freaking-Wells!” Bonnie marched in place, and Trish fake screamed. Very casual. Very cool. Not at all attention-causing.

“We’re just friends.” We were friends, right? “Neighbors.” I glanced at Blondie, unable to let the pinch of unreasonable jealousy go. “Who’s he talking to?”

Heidi scoffed. “You’re kidding, right? That’s Blaire Sweeney. Kylie’s uber-competitive cousin. Her family’s staying with Kylie’s family for a few weeks. They live in Manhattan.”

Panic surged through me. “Kylie’s home?” If she was in town, my time with Dean was over. She was the reason we hadn’t spoken sooner. I wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. I only had a few weeks with him as it was. He’d leave for school again too soon.

Bonnie pulled dark curls over one shoulder. “No. I heard Kylie’s in rehab for exhaustion, which probably means she has an eating disorder or she’s pregnant.”

Trish nodded. “Could also be alcohol.”

Bonnie wagged her head. “No way. Not Kylie. Too many calories.”

I looked to Heidi, who shrugged in limp agreement.

Dean turned back to my tiny group and swung long arms around Bonnie’s and Heidi’s shoulders. The girls perked up immediately.

“Where to now, Reese?”

Their eyes widened on me.

Blaire moseyed out the door, looking victorious. A dozen people went with her.

I chomped my straw. “Home.” The defeat in my voice annoyed me. “I have to check on Mark.”

“What time’s the sleepover?”

I looked to Heidi. When was our fake sleepover?

Bonnie nudged my knee. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll pick you up on my way.”

Dean released the girls and extended a hand my way.

I slipped my palm over his and he pulled me off the stool.

Heidi watched our linked hands. “Have fun, Katy.”

I waved good-bye with my cup and followed Dean into the sunshine.

He cut the engine outside my house and turned on the seat to face me. “I’m not interested in Blaire.”

I shoved my straw between my lips and fought a smile. I’d assumed the silence on our drive home was caused by Dean formulating the best way to tell me he was going to be spending more time with Blaire. Maybe even a custom version of “it’s not you, it’s me,” or how he really valued our friendship. “Oh?”

“I’m going to the quarry tonight because it sounds like fun and I like hometown parties. It has nothing to do with Blaire. Being away is nice, but I miss it here. I think I’ve decided to move home after graduation and tackle the world’s impossible agricultural problems from my own plot of land in Monroe County.”

I dropped the cup into my lap and gave him a long look. If anyone could change the world, it was Dean.

His jaw tightened as he waited for me to speak.

I had no idea what to say, so we stared one another down, squinting against orange sunlight streaming through the windshield.

Finally, he turned away. “Have fun with the girls tonight.” He glanced at my hands. “Enjoy the mani-pedis.”

My mind scrambled. Now I had to paint my nails. Did I even own nail polish? Did I have to walk to the store and buy some to cover the lie?

I cracked the door open. “Okay. You, too. Enjoy the skinny-dipping.”

He snorted a laugh. “For sure.”

Well, he didn’t deny it.

My feet hit the ground as Mark swung the gate open to our backyard and dragged a fifty-foot garden hose behind him toward the front porch. He yanked and pulled the green beast with one hand while dabbing sweat with the other.

I slammed Dean’s door. “What are you doing?” I waved my hands wildly overhead. “Mark! Stop!” I shot a crazy face at Dean and launched across the front lawn toward the lunatic trying to kill himself.

“What?” Mark stopped cursing the hose to stare at me. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? You’re outside in the heat, sweating and getting overexerted. You aren’t healing at the rate they want. You know that. You have to start listening and rest!”

Dean’s truck rumbled to life behind us. He beeped the horn as he drove away.

Mark made a sour face. “You two fighting?”

“No. He has plans tonight.”

He grunted. “Good. Help me finish watering the lawn before it rains.”

I looked at the graying sky and laughed.

Mark started.

The insanity level at my house was rising and taking me with it. “Fine. Hold my malt.” I wasn’t clear on which of us was crazier. Him wanting the dumb grass watered before the rain came, or me for accommodating him. Either way, I had energy to burn and images of naked Blaire and Dean at the quarry to drown.

I twisted the nozzle and showered the grass.

“Not so much,” Mark lamented. “It’s going to rain. You’ll kill it.”

I laughed again, enjoying tiny rainbows in the spray.

Mark levered the lid off my cup and took a drag on my malt.