Prince Charming (22 page)

I didn’t say any more, because she’d already turned away from me to greet another mourner at the visitation. She had a role to play, and we both knew it. I walked a few steps away and then turned to watch her. She played the grieving girlfriend so well.

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T
HURSDAY, MAY 9TH

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I
PARKED THE car and tentatively walked up to the red front door at Laine’s house. What if she’d changed her mind? I shut my eyes as I rapped on the door, and prayed she hadn’t. I had to talk to her, and I needed to do it that night. It was the only way I could hope to understand her.

The hall light came on, and the front door flew open about fifteen seconds after my last rap. Laine stood behind the door, bathed in the soft glow of a lamp on the hallway table. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, and the light played up its natural wave. She had on a pair of tan yoga pants and a blue V-neck Xavier University shirt. She made this outfit as sexy as lingerie. All the blood rushed from my face.

“Hey,” I said, uncertain. “I hope I didn’t disturb you.” I felt stupid as I glanced down at my jeans and polo shirt. Why the hell had I dressed as if this was some kind of date? Clearly it wasn’t. This was just like me—over thinking everything. I really needed to get a hold of myself. Again. For the ten thousandth time in three months.

“No, it’s fine,” she replied. She motioned for me to come in, and the closed the door behind me. “I was just studying. I thought maybe you weren’t going to come.”

Of course I was going to show up. This was Laine Phillips. After all this time, didn’t she realize who she was? Had she forgotten prom? Didn’t she see what she did to me? Didn’t she know what she did to everyone else in school?

“You missed school today,” I whispered, trying to control myself, keep myself from coming across creepy.

“I did.” She shrugged. “Just couldn’t deal with it today, and with the funeral . . . I was studying in the kitchen, just to take my mind off of stuff. So maybe we can study there?”

“Study?”

She smiled. “Yeah. Studying. For the AP English test. That we have tomorrow?”

“Oh, right. That old thing.” I’d studied for about five hours for that test, well under my usual. Even that afternoon as I skimmed the study guide while in my room, the words all mushed together like a stew of letters. I couldn’t concentrate on any of that. Not with all that had happened recently.

“I guess I should study for that.” I hesitated. “But of course, I didn’t bring my books or my iPad.”

“I guess you’re lucky that I have to take the test tomorrow, too.” She turned and sauntered down the hall, clearly expecting me to join her. I let my eyes fall on her butt for a couple of seconds before I did. She had one of those great ones, round and perky. The tan yoga pants hugged it in a certain way, and I wondered if we’d get much studying done at all.

Not that I showed up hoping to study.

“Do you want something to drink?” she asked once we reached the small kitchen. She opened up the refrigerator door, and pulled out a Diet Coke. I took a seat at one of the barstools tucked underneath the granite countertop that jutted out like an “L” from the sink. A couple of open books and Laine’s iPad littered the top.

“Sure, I’ll take one, too. Looks like you’ve been really working hard here.”

“Whatever, it’s all running together at this point.”

“Yeah, for me, too. I guess I just thought maybe it’d be tough for you to study, because of Evan.”

“Right. Evan. God, it’s like he’s everywhere,” she said, as she poured the drinks into two glasses. “I’m glad you came over, because now we have a chance to talk.”

“Yeah,” I said, thinking of prom night. “We do need to talk.”

She sat down on the other bar stool, and handed me a glass. “So,” she said after a moment, “prom night was . . . something.”

I gulped down half of my drink, but even as I did, my mouth ran dry from anticipation. “Okay. What do you mean?”

“Nothing bad. Just that I didn’t want it to end.”

“Well, neither did I.”

“But it’s bad that I feel that way, Geoff.” Her left hand swiped at a single tear that fell down her cheek. “We were having so much fun that night, and, while we were, Evan was lying on the side of the highway in a car crash.”

“He died instantly. They said so on the news.”

“It’s just so—so wrong of us.” She looked away, and her eyes fell on something in the kitchen. I didn’t try to figure out what. “My parents weren’t mad when I came home, in case you wondered about that. They were more upset than anything else. Of course, they knew all about Evan’s accident.”

“I’m not sorry about prom, Laine. I would do it again the same way. Even if I knew what happened next. I mean, what happened next with Evan.”

“Geoff, I’ve been so confused . . .”

“Confused?”

“I wanted Evan to figure himself out, and get better. Stop being so angry all the time. I didn’t want him to die. And now it doesn’t feel right that I like you so much.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Let me ask you something. Why did you sit down next to me in the library that day?”

She smiled. “Back in January?”

“That’s the one.”

Laine cocked her head, like she was thinking of it. While she did, I held my breath, and it occurred to me just how much I really wanted to know the answer to this question. Why hadn’t I asked her before? Why did it take something so drastic for me to really talk to her?

“Because you looked safe.”

“I looked safe?” I choked the words out. “Me?”

“Evan exploded in the breezeway at school. I was late meeting him, and he yelled at me then told me to fuck off. I was supposed to give him a ride home, but he got one from Monica. That was the second time he’d yelled at me like that.” She broke off, and put her head in her hand. Her fingers covered her face and muffled her next words. “The first time he yelled at me that way, it ended with Evan punching my arm instead of my bedroom wall.”

“Holy shit, Laine.”

She didn’t look up from her hand. “I walked by the library, and when I looked through the glass doors, I saw you. And you looked so nice. So different than Evan.”

I snorted, and she pulled her head from her hand. “Come on. Really? I’m nobody.”

“You’re somebody, Geoff. Everyone is somebody.”

My thoughts raced through every second of that afternoon in the library. “But you didn’t seem like you’d just been yelled at.”

“What can I say?” She gave me a sad smile. “I’m good at hiding things. Faking it. That’s my specialty.”

“Well, yeah, but it’s really sad you went through all this,” I said, still in disbelief about what she’d said. Out of instinct, I reached out and placed my hand on her shoulder. “And no one ever came running to me—”

Her rosebud lips twisted. “First time for everything.” She inhaled a huge breath. “You’re the one person at Heritage High who sees me for who I am. You’re the one person who lets me be myself. You never ask me to be someone I’m not. And you’re funny.”

I sat back, stunned. If I’d known that was all it took, I’d have asked her out years ago, instead of waiting for life to throw us together during the final few hours of high school. Jesus Christ. Was that the secret to this whole thing? Was that the secret to her?

“You don’t care about image,” she continued. “Well, at least, not when it comes to me. And when I’m with you, I’m relaxed.”

“I’m relaxed when I’m with you, too.” It might have been an overstatement on my part, but it sounded good in my head. It sounded like something someone would say in a movie, which was kinda of the way life made me feel at that moment.

She looked down at the tile floor. “When I got home and my parents said Evan died, I didn’t know what to do. Part of me still had feelings for him . . . and I felt horrible about it because I had just almost had sex with you, so I just decided I wouldn’t do anything. I know he wasn’t a good person in the end, but he’s dead. And that makes it all feel different.” She sighed, then got up and walked over to the fridge. She opened it and then fiddled around inside, like whatever it offered her would be the key to everything in life.

I got up and followed her after a couple of seconds. “Look, Laine, let me tell you something. I’m not really good at this stuff.”

She turned around, an unopened Diet Coke in her hand. “I’m not really great at this either. Evan’s the only I’ve even been with.”

“Maybe it’s time to be with someone else.”

“Who? You?” She bit back a smile.

“Yeah. Me.” I swallowed. “You should be with me, Laine. I won’t treat you the way he did. Ever.” I reached out and put my hand on the door, closing the door and boxing her against it at the same time. “You’re really gorgeous.”

She rolled her eyes. “Some people have said that.”

“Well, even if you don’t believe them, you are.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Why don’t you give us a chance? You might like it.”

She stood so close to me now, and that familiarity of her washed over me as the whole world fell away from us. Nothing else counted, nothing else existed beyond the two of us. Her eyes seduced me, her mouth invited me in, and her steady breath promised me that if I made the leap, I’d find more inside her than I ever wanted.

Before I knew it, my mouth found hers for a hard, fervent kiss. This kiss was about more than just sex. This kiss was a promise. It was a statement from me to her, and from her to me. We didn’t have just one late night hookup after a bad night at prom. We had much more than that.

“Let’s go outside,” she said in a breathy voice, as she broke the connection. “It’s a really nice night.”

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M
OMENTS LATER, WE took a seat on the overstuffed wicker couch on the patio. It faced the garden and small pool in the back yard, and a privacy fence surrounded the perimeter. Out here, we were just as alone as if we were inside. Off in the distance, I heard the occasional rumble of a car engine rolling down the street.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Laine said.

“I don’t?”

“No.”

She sank back against the pillows as I perched on the edge of the sofa, angled at her. I didn’t touch her, even though I was desperate to.
Desperate.
Instead, I held my body rigid, and my elbows rested on my knees. As I stared at her, I tried to process what had happened in the kitchen. I still tasted that sweet bubble gum flavored lip-gloss, and I was dying to taste it again.

What did I have to do to make that happen?

“No one knew that Evan had an anger problem,” she said. “I never told anyone. And I think I was the only one who saw it—until prom night.” She turned her head, and focused on something out in the yard. “So stupid.”

“How many times did he hit you?” I swapped the word “fucker” for “he” right before I spoke.

“Come on, Geoff—”

“No, Laine. How many times?”

She laughed once without humor. “Other times? What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. That time at prom wasn’t the first time. Even I could tell that.”

She shut her eyes as if that would make whatever she had to say next easier. “One other time.”

“One other time?” I narrowed my eyes at her as I thought about our conversation on the sidewalk outside of The Syndicate on the night of the prom. “One other time?”

She must have heard disbelief in my voice, because when she opened her eyes, she looked away. She picked up a stray leaf from the mess of pillows next to her and crunched it with her fingers. “Okay. Three other times, besides that. But it wasn’t like that. Not like it was that night at prom. He was just so drunk, and he went over the top. And now he’s dead, and I just feel so—”

“He shouldn’t have hit you. Ever.”

“He’s dead.”

“Doesn’t mean he was a nice guy. You can still be a bad person after you’re dead.”

“I know, but you have to understand something, Geoff. Evan was my first love. My first . . . everything. He was a great boyfriend in the beginning, but he changed this year, after he got into Ohio State. Like, he thought he was invincible or something. And then with the divorce . . . he wasn’t the same guy at all.”

“It’s not your fault he died.”

“Isn’t it?” She sniffled, and her voice broke a little. “I should have stopped him, or told someone. I could have told one of the teachers he’d hit me; that would have stopped him from ever getting in the car. And now everyone thinks that I’m a horrible person because I didn’t stop him, and because I wasn’t with him when he died.”

“No one thinks that,” I said. “No one. They don’t blame you.”

“I hear what people are saying.” She sniffled again, and I thought I saw the beginning of tears in her eyes. “They talk. About him. About me. That’s all they talk about right now at school.”

“I haven’t heard anything.”

She answered me with another rueful laugh. “You’re not listening. That’s the problem. Jesus, Geoff . . .”

How could I convince her? She carried this pain around like a backpack weighted with stones.

In the soft light from the porch she reminded me of a glassy, delicate, fragile angel. I wanted to hug her, tell her she didn’t have any guilt when it came to Evan’s death. I reached out and took her hand, pulled her up off the pillows and closer to me. She didn’t fight me, and, before I knew it, I’d wrapped my arm around her waist. My breath came out heavy and hard in my chest. “You aren’t the reason he died.” I touched my forehead to hers. “He died because of himself. His own stupidity. Not yours.”

“God, a car wreck like that—I just can’t—” She broke off, and tucked her head against my shoulder.

“He did it to himself. No one made him get in the car drunk, turn it on, and drive. He did that.”

“I thought I loved him once, and I’m not kidding about that. I really did.” Her words were muffled against my shoulder. “Now I just feel so bad.”

“Everyone does.”

“I could have stopped him, even after he hit me. I knew he was drunk.”

“This isn’t your fault, Laine,” I whispered, as I gently pulled her head away from my chest so I could see her eyes again. God, she was so damn hot, even when she cried. “But the way he treated you—that wasn’t love. I just wish you would see that for what it was.”