Destiny Binds (7 page)

“I didnʼt think so at first, but it looks like I might have been wrong.” It was not until the blush returned to his cheeks I even considered hoping that he was talking about me.

He was running his hand through his hair again. Did that mean that he was nervous? Was
I
making him nervous?

“So, are you doing anything over Thanksgiving break next week?” Alex asked, apropos of nothing. He also seemed to be very interested in his shoes. While they were cute - some well worn Adidas Gazelles - they were far from fascinating.

“I have to go to Washington to spend the holiday with Senator and Mrs. Harper.”

“Senate Majority Leader Senator Harper? Why?”

Because my life sucked. “Heʼs my bio momʼs father.”

“Senator Harper is your grandfather?” Alex sounded impressed.

“Technically.”

I only see my motherʼs parents once a year. They always fly me into DC for Thanksgiving break. For four days I get attacked by stylist and posed in different activities with the Harpers to ensure there are enough pictures of their All-American Family for the next campaign.

The eyebrow plucking and itchy sweaters are nothing compared to the painful conversations I have to endure. Mrs. Harper can wax on for hours about how I am nowhere near as pretty as my mother, while the Senator likes to lecture me on the responsibilities that came with being a politicianʼs granddaughter and the necessity of applying myself. The whole thing made me a little wrist-slitty.

My distaste for the whole situation must have shown on my face.

“You arenʼt exactly fond of your grandparents, are you?”

“My grandparents blame my motherʼs death on my father. They see him as a murderer, and me as his weapon of choice. They have never acknowledged my birthday or sent me so much as a Christmas card. The only time they contact me is when it benefits them in some fashion.

So, no, Iʼm not fond of them. Itʼs hard to like someone that hates you for being born.” Alex studied my face as I tried to appear nonchalant about the whole ordeal. “So, why do you go see them over Thanksgiving? Iʼm sure there are better things you could be doing.” There were about a million better things I could be doing. I could go see Dadʼs mom, who makes the best Derby Pie on the planet, or his dad, whose Derby Pie comes in a close second. I could go to Rebeccaʼs familyʼs Thanksgiving where everyone played cards and board games until the wee hours of the morning. I could go down to the Base and have Thanksgiving with Jaseʼs bio dadʼs parents, who have always treated me like family. That one was extra tempting because it involved seeing Charlie.

But I wasnʼt going to do any of those things. I couldnʼt.

“I go because she would want me to.”

Somehow Alex managed to get the whole story out of me. I told him about how the doctors had realized there was a problem in her second trimester and suggested she terminate the pregnancy for her own well-being; about how she decided that my life was worth risking her own; about how she held my tiny body and told me she knew she made the right decision; and about how she died with me in her arms. I told him how I found it necessary to excel in everything I do so she will be proud of me. I confessed to worrying I would never be worthy of her sacrifice.

I spilled my guts in a way I never had before. Iʼm not sure what compelled me to do it. He just kept asking questions, and I kept answering them, a bit too honestly.

So much for my business only relationship.

“And thatʼs my sad story,” I said. I had run out of steam and was feeling slightly embarrassed and exposed, not unlike those dreams where you show up to school without your shirt on. “Now, whatʼs yours?”

“What makes you think that I have a sad story?” Alex started picking at the threads sticking out from a hole in his jeans.

“You live with your brother, right? So, where are your parents?”

“Car accident. I was eleven. I donʼt like talking about it.” He continued picking at his jeans, never looking up in my direction.

I had the urge to smack his hand away from those stupid threads. I had just bared my soul to him and he was going to brush me off with an
I donʼt like to talk about it
? I was about to explain the unfairness of the situation when the bell rang. Alex was up and out of the door before I could even collect my thoughts.

I didnʼt see him at lunch that day, and I didnʼt have a chance to talk to him in Mrs. Soleʼs class. When he disappeared before the end of day announcements, I was certain he was avoiding me.

I felt utterly humiliated. First, I had spewed out a fountain of Ashley Johnson hatred that even the most clueless guy would recognize as a jealous fit. Then, I prattled on endlessly about my dead mother, dysfunctional grandparents, and insecurities. Worst of all, I had managed to convince myself he was interested in me. He probably picked up on that. Of course he was avoiding me. He probably felt bad for leading on the freakish, emotionally unstable girl.

Talley tried to cheer me up that afternoon with a generous helping of french fries and milkshakes, but it didnʼt work. I was embarrassed, my ego severely wounded. The only thing I was certain of was that I never wanted to see Alex Cole again.

Chapter 6

The best part of holiday breaks, other than the absence of Calculus, is that people tend to come back to school in a happier, less neurotic mood. At least, that was the case for Alex and me. The days before Thanksgiving were strained and awkward, partially due to my habit of running away every time he got anywhere near me. Monday, however, saw the return of our comfortable, if somewhat unsatisfying, friendship.

“So, youʼre kind of orange,” Alex said as I pulled up recent articles on immigration laws.

“Holy crap,” I exclaimed, examining my arms. “How did that happen? Thank you so much for pointing that out. I never would have noticed it on my own.” I had returned from my DC trip looking like a Fraggle. Mrs. Harper, in her latest attempt at making me a bit more photogenic, drug me to an exclusive salon in Virginia where I was forced to strip naked inside a space-age capsule that sprayed a sickly sweet smelling powder onto my entire body. They had promised that I would emerge a sun-kissed beach blanket beauty.

They were liars.

Mrs. Harper got a full refund and an apology. I got the honor of looking even more bizarre normal. Fortunately, it was fading rather quickly. I figured another week of taking a morning, afternoon, and evening shower would have me back to my normal shade of freak.

“Scout got a really fancy tan because she gets to be in commercials on TV. Her grandpa is famous,” Angel said, looking up from her coloring. Although she and Emma were on speaking terms again, Angel preferred to stay close to me on the afternoon Alex joined us at the library.

“Scout is a walking cartoon character, because her grandparents are sadists,” I corrected.

“I want a fancy tan.”

I supposed that if I had a third eye in the middle of my forehead she would want one of those too. “You donʼt want a fake orange tan, Munchkin.”

“Yes, I do,” she insisted. “Itʼs pretty.”

Alex was amused. “Oh, I think so too. Very pretty
and
informative. I have always wondered what the female Oompa-Loompas looked like.”

I kicked his shin under the table. “Donʼt make me whip out my mad ninja skills.” I really didnʼt mind Alex teasing me about my tan gone wrong. It was, after all, the most ridiculous thing anyone had ever seen. Plus, the way he was looking at me at that moment gave me butterflies in my stomach, and I was not one to complain about happy stomach butterflies.

“Youʼre not a ninja anymore.” It had been thirty whole seconds since Alex had paid any attention to Angel, so she had to say something.

“You were a ninja?” Alexʼs eyebrows raised up under his long bangs.

“Yeah, but I had to quit. The whole wearing black from head to toe thing was getting old.” Angel, who had yet to completely understand the concept of sarcasm, felt the need to correct me yet again. “Only your belt was black. Your pajamas were white.”

“Tae Kwan Do?”

“The first couple of years,” I said. “Later we started cross-training. By the time I had to quit we were mostly doing mixed martial arts.”

“So, theoretically you could kick my a...” Alexʼs eyes flicked over to Angel, “butt?”

“Itʼs not so much theory as fact.”

Okay, not really. I was way out of practice, not to mention Alex had some very nice looking muscles peaking out from the sleeves of his faded Abercombie t-shirt and a good three or four inches of height on me.

“Is that an invitation to throw down, Donovan?” Alexʼs smile was positively wicked.

“Name the time and place, Cole.”

His mischievous smile was interrupted by my “Across the Universe” ringtone. I quickly snatched up the phone, petrified Miss Nancy had heard. She had some very strong feelings about cell phones and kicked people out of the library for using them on a regular basis.

“Whatʼs up, Charlie?” I asked quietly, turning around so my back was to the circulation desk and Alex. For some reason I found talking to Charlie in front of Alex unappealing.

“Same as always. You know how this rock star life of mine goes,” Charlie replied.

“Champagne breakfasts every morning and lobster dinners every night. Iʼm actually meeting up with Bono later to cure AIDS, and then weʼre hitting the club scene. I hope the Edge comes along this time. That guy is a seriously awesome wing man.”

“And here I was thinking you would be sitting around in clothes that should have been washed a week ago, eating Ramen noodles, and spending your evenings studying until your eyes bled.”

Charlieʼs laugh seemed to reach every cell of my body. “Damn you and your psychic powers. Although, youʼre a little off. Ramen noodles gross me out. Iʼm on a strict cereal and microwave popcorn diet.”

We bantered back and forth for a few minutes before I managed to steer the conversation to the pragmatic reasons for Charlieʼs unexpected call. Once I told him how to find tangent, relayed the capitals of several South American countries, and explained how most of this information could be found on Wikipedia, I ended the call and turned back around to apologize to Alex for the distraction. I was surprised to find Angel sitting alone, Alex and his stuff gone.

***

The day after Alexʼs disappearing act our Shakespeare class headed down to Nashville to watch Vanderbilt Universityʼs production of
The Taming of the Shrew.
I was going to ask Alex about what happened and attempt to make up for lost research time on the drive down, but Ashley immediately claimed the spot next to Alex in the back seat. I tried not to think about whether or not it was the first time that they had found themselves in the back seat together as Talley chatted away with Ms. Ryder from our seats in the front.

It was raining by the time we got to the city and, as fate would have it, we had to park more than a mile from the theater. I cursed myself for not wearing my raincoat or bringing an umbrella. I had been out of the van for less than a minute and was soaked. Talley looked ridiculous, but dry, in the odd rain-suit type thing she had packed in her bag.

“Did you not watch the weather this morning?” Alex asked, moving his umbrella so it covered the both of us.

The gesture was appreciated, but I still had an ax to grind. “I was too busy searching for my co-writer. He disappeared while we were supposed to be working on an article yesterday afternoon. I think he must have fallen through a portal to a magical, cell phone free world, since he never called to explain.”

Alex had the good sense to look guilty. “Sorry, it was getting dark, and I didnʼt think you would notice.”

“It was getting dark?” I snickered. “Are you afraid of the Boogey Man?” He scowled. “Iʼm not afraid of anything. I
am
the Boogey Man.” I was laughing so hard I almost didnʼt hear Ms. Ryder as she doled out tickets and instructions, begging us to act like mature, cultured individuals.

We had to wait for the ushers, who were an even bigger embarrassment to society than my classmates, to finish their flashlight enabled lightsaber duel to actually go into the theater.

When Darth Vader finally found the time to lead us to our seats I was pleased to find myself sitting between Talley and Alex.

“Now, remember ladies, weʼre here to watch a theatrical performance, not to socialize. I do not expect to hear any chit-chat between you two after the lights go down,” Alex said in what would have been a perfect imitation of Ms. Ryder if it hadnʼt had been for a giant yawn at the end.

“And we donʼt expect to hear any snoring from you, Mr. Cole,” Talley chided.

“I donʼt know if I can promise that,” he said. I thought that he was probably telling the truth.

He looked like he hadnʼt slept at all. What was it with guys and insomnia? Jase seemed to be operating on little to no sleep half the time.

Once the house lights went down and curtain came up, it didnʼt take long to understand why Vanderbilt was known for its medical program and not its drama department. By the third act I was in as much danger of falling asleep as Alex was. When I looked over to see if he had nodded off yet I was surprised to find him looking at me.

“This sucks,” he mouthed.

I could only gawk and nod in return. The low lighting did amazing things to his features. The line of his jaw seem more pronounced, his lips fuller, and his eyes were like two silver dollars shining back at me.

I realized I was staring at him and quickly looked away, my heart pounding. I could feel my cheeks growing warm and hoped desperately it was too dark for him to notice. I caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye, but didnʼt realize what was happening until I felt him take ahold of my hand.

Alex Cole was not the first boy I ever held hands with. That honor went to my third grade boyfriend, Jeremy Rande, who bought me a chocolate rose for Valentineʼs Day and then moved to Illinois the next week. Over the years there had been others - including Dalton Riley, the asshat Ashley had done the nasty with - but none of those times had felt like this. With the other boys it had merely been skin on skin. I remembered how they always squeezed my hand too tightly or too loosely, how their palms had always been too dry or too sweaty.