For the Longest Time (26 page)

“Ha. Really, though. This isn't—oh my God, she came!” Jake looked confused, then turned his head to follow her gaze to where a stunning woman with long braids, wearing a headband, a leather vest, black jeans, boots, and carrying a long plastic Katana blade was making her way through the crowd to enthusiastic hoots. She carried two chains as leashes for a pair of “armless” zombies who shuffled along behind her. One of them had a
voluminous beard, which had been covered in a lot of fake blood. The other had a pink streak in his hair. Both grinned at her.

Jake's brows lifted. “Can I take both of you home?”

Sam smacked him.

Zoe looked awfully pleased with herself by the time she reached Sam.

“I can't believe you told me you were just going to throw something together if you came,” Sam said. “You sit on a throne of lies.”

Zoe threw her head back and laughed. “Surprise. I like to make an entrance, you know. But I wasn't going to do it unless I could corral a couple of zombie minions. Zeke and Aaron were available. And look at
you
. I almost didn't recognize you. You're all
vibrant
.”

“Well, the point is to not look like ourselves, right?”

Zoe rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. Nice outfit, Cap. You didn't happen to bring Thor with you, did you?”

“Nope. No superheroes, only pets.”

She feigned disappointment. “Damn. Guess I'll stick to zombies.” She jerked her thumb behind her. “The bearded one is Zeke Majors, who makes amazing things out of wood when he isn't growing facial hair, and the dude with the pink streak is Aaron Maclean, who I believe you met the other night, Jake. He's pretty mouthy for a member of the hungry undead.”

“I like the pink,” Sam told him.

“Thanks. I have hair ADD. Do you want a zombie minion for the night?” he asked Sam. “I love your dress. And she's mean.” He glanced behind her, and Sam knew from the look on his face he'd spotted Ryan. It was a little like watching a bird of prey zero in on its target.

“I didn't know you were into Oompa Loompas,” Sam murmured to him. His smirk was wicked.

“When they're blushing through their makeup and trying not to stare at me I am.”

“What are you whispering about, minion? Don't make me hit you again,” Zoe said, brandishing her sword at him. Aaron stuck his tongue out at her and rattled his chain.

They were so reassuringly here, so reassuringly
hers
. Sam threw her arms around Zoe, who jumped a little before hugging her back.

“I am really, really, really glad you're here,” Sam said.

“Yes, I am,” said Zoe. “So let's party, because the chances of me doing this again before next year are slim to none.”

A speaker crashed to the ground behind them, followed by raucous cheers. Zoe's eyes closed. “It's him, isn't it?”

“Just be happy it's not at the gallery,” Sam said, as Big Al was helped up by the idiots who'd helped him get onto the speaker to begin with. “Let's go get you a drink.” She looked up at Jake, pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

“Be right back,” she said, and with her three friends in tow, vanished into the crowd.

* * *

Jake watched them go, struck by the immediate change in Sam when Zoe showed up. Even barely knowing her, he liked Zoe. Anyone who would wear that costume and find zombie minions to match kind of had to be likable. Still, their appearance had pretty much killed any efforts to bridge the gap between her and his friends. Not that it had been going very well anyway.

Small wonder why. Cici's hand was on his arm as soon as Sam was out of sight. He sighed.

“You're free for a few minutes,” she said, “so dance with me.”

“Cici,” he said as she began to wiggle up against him, “what are you doing?”

She looked up at him with an expression he knew very well. It was feigned innocence, and he wasn't in the mood. She seemed to realize that, and the mask dropped quickly.

“Okay, so I'm apologizing.”

He leaned closer, unsure whether he'd heard her right. “You can elaborate on that.”

Cici rolled her eyes. “Apologizing. I came on too strong the other night and I pissed you off. I don't blame you. Or her.” Her smile was thin and humorless. “She might be weird, but she's not stupid. You're worth hanging on to.”

It was flattering and discomfiting all at the same time. They hadn't really talked since she'd been back . . . not beyond just scratching the surface of things. This seemed like an odd place to want to have this discussion, but Cici had always done things on her own timetable.

“That was a long time ago, Cici. I don't even know where all this is coming from. You left.”

“I made a mistake,” she said. “A big one. It was good here.
We
were good here.”

“We were kids,” he said. They'd stopped dancing, standing close to hear each other as the party continued around them. This close, he could see the changes in her—the hard edge to her smile, the bitterness in her dark eyes. Whatever had happened with her marriage, it had hurt her, even if she would never say so. She'd never
wanted to admit to any imperfection. But he knew, even now, that there were plenty of feelings underneath.

It was what made it so hard to accept the willful cruelty that she'd always been capable of.

“I was happy here. I had friends here,” she said. “Look at you. All of you. It's like stepping back in time to the better days. The
best
days. Nothing is different except the one thing I really want.” Her eyes were huge, pleading, and he did feel sympathy for her, even if he couldn't give what she was asking. “Give me another chance, Jake. We were perfect. We can be again. I know what I walked away from now.”

He shook his head, exasperated despite the grudging affection he still felt for her. She'd always been dramatic. But he knew she believed what she was saying. She wasn't looking for him, though. She was after something that was long gone.

“We were never perfect, Cici. What are you remembering? We fought all the damn time. And by the time we broke up we were both sick of the ups and downs. I know you miss how it was. You can have some of that. We're all still here, and I'm happy to try to be your friend. But we're not going to work any other way. Maybe it all looks the same to you, but it isn't. We all grew up.”

There was a flash of pain before her eyes hardened. “So that's it. You're more interested in hooking up with the school freak than coming back to something you
know
could be just as good as it was.”

He clenched his jaw. He'd said no to her. Now would come the lashing out. It was an old pattern, and one he watched with an old weariness. “Yes, I'm with Sam now. You won't want to hear exactly how good it is, and that's fine, but you're going to have to respect my choice.”

Cici snorted. “Some choice. She's still the same old Sam underneath. Everybody seems to see that but you.”

“I don't think I'm the one who can't see what she is,” Jake said. “You could at least try to be nice to her. You and Thea.”

“Nice? Seriously? That little bitch punched her,” Cici snapped. “You don't forget things like that.”

The disdain that dripped from her voice was an ugly surprise. “No. There are things you don't forget, even if you want to.”

She seemed to have realized she'd overstepped, panic flickering across her face. “Sorry. I shouldn't have called her that.” But she wasn't sorry, and he knew it. Jake looked around at the group of them, the people he had depended on since grade school, and for the first time didn't much like what he saw. It was unsettling, to have his foundations shaken that way. They were the same people they'd always been. But there had been pieces he hadn't wanted to see, thrown into sharp relief now, of all times. They'd been good to him because he was one of them—popular, athletic, easygoing, attractive. He'd loved being a part of something when his home life felt so broken, feeling important when he'd never been quite good enough for his father. But he wasn't a kid anymore. And standing here, he could see that most of them were still completely invested in breaking the Cove into two groups: us and them.

Thea and Kallie were busy making fun of someone's costume, Max was complaining to Shane about whatever Max's latest complaint was, Ryan and Stump were getting obliterated . . . and Cici wanted him back in her bed, with no interest in how that might affect things outside her little universe. Fitz had vanished, but that was Fitz. He was the only one who'd maintained a life outside of
the rest of them. And wouldn't you know it, he was the only one Sam seemed to like.

This was the first time he'd really stood on the outside looking in.

Maybe they were his friends. But they sure as hell weren't anybody else's. And that didn't say much for any of them.

It made him wonder what the hell he'd been doing all this time. And he was certain, as Sam had insinuated more than once, that he'd missed things—and people—he might have enjoyed if he'd just bothered to wake up and have a look around.

“I'm done. I'm going to go find Sam and get out of here. I hope you find what you're looking for, Cici. But it isn't me.” Frowning, he turned away and started to walk. The music was suddenly too loud, the crowd too thick. It was the same damn thing as every other year—they'd all drink too much, and then Max and Thea would want everyone to go back to their place and have a bonfire, which they'd do even though the only sober person would inevitably be someone who wasn't much good at making a fire. Which meant they were always in danger of burning the yard down. And this time . . . he tried to imagine Sam enjoying herself while they all talked about the same old people and most of them pretended she wasn't there. He'd expected better.

He wasn't going to get it.

Cici came around the front of him so fast she stumbled a little, leaning against his chest with her hands. He jerked to a halt.

“Jesus, Jake, don't just walk away like that. Wait,” she said, wide-eyed. She seemed genuinely shocked that he would simply leave.

“There's nothing left to say,” he told her.

She studied him, her lips pressed together into the distressed little line that meant he'd actually managed to score a hit through one of the tiny cracks in her armor. Once, it had given him an ugly sort of satisfaction. Now, it just made him tired.

“There's one thing,” she said. “One thing left.”

He'd been crazy about her once. Now, he felt sorry for her. The sentiment surprised him, mingling with old affection that he knew Sam wouldn't understand, not that he blamed her. People were complicated things. And because he had seen the best in her once, because they shared a lot of great memories and he understood why she wanted to relive them instead of moving forward, he leaned in to listen to whatever she wanted to tell him. He hoped it was “good-bye.”

It happened so fast that he couldn't stop it. One moment she was looking up at him, lips parting to speak. The next, she'd wrapped herself around him, pressing her mouth and body to his. For a brief instant, his arms came around her, more instinct to steady himself than anything. Her lips tried to move, to draw him in, and he pushed her away. She didn't go easily, but she did let go. Shock quickly gave way to anger as he stared at her, her eyes glittering with triumph. She seemed to think that would do it. But the contrast to what he felt with Sam couldn't have been more stark. There was nothing left here for him.

Not that he'd needed this kind of proof.

“Damn it, Cici,” he said. “I told you, I'm done!”

She stared at him as though she'd never seen him before, eyes wide and glistening with a thin sheen of unshed tears. Then she smiled, laughing a little, even though
it was a bitter, desolate sound. She looked past him, just for an instant.

“Yes,” she said, “you are.”

And he knew what she'd done, even before she turned on one bootheel to walk stiffly back to their friends. Her friends. He didn't know what they were to him anymore. He guessed they'd each make their own decisions about that. Sam had never asked him to make a choice. But he had. He'd finally made the right one.

Just in time for the choice to be taken from him.

He spun around, and his heart sank. He saw a flash of pale hair as Sam pushed through the crowd, and a look from Zoe that was nothing short of murderous as she went after her. He clenched his jaw and went after them, hoping he could get out the door before she got away. But the Tavern was packed, and it seemed like people were throwing themselves into his path on purpose. It was infuriatingly slow going, and by the time he made it to the door, he was afraid she'd be gone.

The night air was cold and crisp, the sky clear and scattered with stars. He could hear Sam's voice, rapid, sharp words bumping up against Zoe's cooler ones. And he could see them by the road, Sam's agitated gestures, Zoe's hands on her arms.

“Sam!” He jogged to her, even as he saw her backing up, her hands in front of her.

Zoe looked between them. “I'll go get the guys, honey. You just hang on.” Another venomous look at him, and she walked away. He gave her credit for not getting involved, though he almost wished she'd stick around to hear what he had to say.

“Don't,” Sam said, and he could see the way her eyes glittered in the dark. Tears. Jesus. He had some talent.

“It wasn't what you think. I was trying to say good-bye to her, Sam,” he said. “She—”

“It's always something like that, right?” she interjected, her voice wavering. “Hanging out here, a kiss there, and all of a sudden, one of these days I'll get a call from her to tell me that once again, she wins. Or maybe she shows up with your thug friend again to scare me off. Either way, maybe she's right. Maybe sad little Goth girls like me don't get guys like you. So whatever it is this time, I'm going to make it easy for both of you. I quit.”