From the Jump(48)

“What?” His eyes search my face. “You look . . .”

I lift an eyebrow.

“Like you’ve tasted something foul,” he says.

“Have you ever had a girlfriend?” At my question, I see that same look from yesterday flash across his face. This time, I don’t just wonder if it’s reluctance. I’m certain of it.

Once again, he answers in spite of it. “When I was younger. She was my neighbor, which was convenient.”

“Because you were too young to drive?”

He shakes his head. “I had a ’75 Bronco, Brook Blue Poly with a white roof cover. It was the first big thing I ever bought with my Family Fun money. I didn’t have anywhere to go in it, but that didn’t stop me from cruising with the windows down for hours, finding back roads and hitting the gas so hard I’d go up on two wheels when I rounded the curves.”

“Sounds perfect,” I say. “So, why did you need someone who lived next door?”

“Because there was no one else.” His eyes darken, the blue turning from sapphire to midnight. “It had been years since Family Fun ended, but I was still nervous to go out in public. If my secret got uncovered, that was it. Maybe it would’ve been okay if I’d started high school with everyone else, but I hadn’t been ready to trade in my freedom for scheduled days. Once I realized there might be benefits to attending—like friends and girls and parties—it was too late. Showing up after everyone had settled into their roles and formed friendships would’ve brought me too much attention. It would only take one person to spot the Brendan Davis in me.”

“That makes sense,” I say, being careful to keep my face blank. I know Deiss will retreat at any sign of pity, but I can’t help feeling it. I can’t imagine what it would be like, hiding away for all that time. Especially as a child, when every day feels like it stretches out for an eternity. “Did she know who you were?”

“No. Catherine knew I couldn’t be around other people, but she thought my family was in the Witness Protection Program.” He bites down a smile, and I copy him unthinkingly, nibbling at my own lower lip. “I didn’t tell her that, but I might’ve dropped bread crumbs that led her down that path.”

“So, it was a relationship built on honesty.” My lip breaks free into a grin. “How could it have gone wrong?”

“Personally, I blame prom.”

“You chose a pinned corsage, didn’t you?” I say teasingly, shaking my head. “Why do boys never understand that we want the one that goes around our wrists?”

“Robby Stillwell bought the corsage.” He bends his knee to distribute the weight of his body against the hard floor. It brushes against mine, making my skin tingle beneath the shorts I’ve changed into to paint. “He could go to a dance filled with people who grew up watching Family Fun without worrying. Just like he could go to football games and parties and everything else a teenage girl wants her boyfriend to be able to do.”

“Things you couldn’t do,” I say softly.

He nods against his arm. “Naturally, she broke up with me.”

“For him?”

“I guess. I suppose that sounds better than admitting I couldn’t compete with all the other things high school had to offer.”

It’s a feeling I can relate all too well with. When I was growing up, there was always something better out in the world for the men who came into my life. A better woman. A better daughter. A better home to settle in. It didn’t matter how tirelessly my mom and I strived to present ourselves perfectly, we couldn’t compete with all the better things the world had to offer.

“And that’s it?” I ask the question with a bravado I don’t feel. My greatest fear is that it is it. That, just like my mother, I’ll never have a problem attracting men. But if they stay around long enough, they’ll eventually get a peek below the surface, and their disappointment will always send them running away. “It didn’t work out, so you’ve given up on love?”

“I haven’t given up on love.” For the first time since I met him, he looks genuinely offended. “I love you. I love Mac and Phoebe and Simone. I love my parents. I even love Booker, lazy as he is.”

I blink in the face of such fervor from him. But that’s not what’s rendered me speechless. It’s the fact that Lucas Deiss has just said he loves me. To my face. And I know it wasn’t a romantic declaration, but my stomach feels like someone has strung it up with twinkle lights.

“I wasn’t devastated that Catherine broke up with me,” he says, seemingly unaware of the way his words have affected me. “It was the fact that I lost her. She was the only friend I had. It never even occurred to me that I was risking that by becoming her boyfriend. I stupidly assumed it would make us closer. But relationships aren’t like friendships.”

He looks at me for some sign of understanding, but I shake my head. “Are you talking about sex?”

He squints at me. “No, Liv. I’m talking about the fact that friendships aren’t declared. They just happen. But a relationship is decided upon. Two people agree that they want each other for a finite period of time. At any point, they’re allowed to change their mind.” He snaps his fingers, the sound cracking through the room. “No harm, no foul. All memories together are invalidated. They might as well have taken place with a stranger. Doesn’t that seem crazy to you? Why would anyone choose to invest their time and emotion into something that tenuous?”