Losing Me, Finding You(22)

I move back through the yard and wait on the front porch for Christy, smiling as she emerges dressed in an outfit that's nearly identical to mine. Pale blue sweater, white camisole, floral print skirt.

“Please tell me that you've come up with something?” she asks unlocking the doors to her car and opening the passenger side for me. “And that we're not really shopping for shoes.”

“Get in,” I tell her, wondering exactly what it is that I'm going to say. She movies hurriedly around the front of the car and gets inside, immediately bursting into a surprise shower of tears. I see her mother watching through the window and pat her arm lamely. “Come on,” I tell her, lowering my voice to a whisper. Is it just me or did I see the upstairs curtains move at my house, too? “I have something exciting to tell you.” Christy sniffles and nods, ignoring the rush of salty wetness that's pouring down her face, and starts the little, blue car with a turn of the key.

“It better be good,” she says, trying to smile through her sadness. I promise myself that I'll hug her as soon as we get into town. “Because I had the worst night of my life last night.” She doesn't elaborate, and I don't ask. If she wants to tell me more, she will, but if she doesn't, I'm not going to press her. This is how we've always been and how I hope we'll always be – easy, honest, truthful. Well, for the most part anyway. I still don't think I can tell her that I'm not a virgin anymore. We've both been for so long that it just seems like that's the way things should I be. I almost feel like I've betrayed her somehow, as stupid as that sounds. “Tell me.” I smile.

“What do you think about motorcycles?” I ask her as we wind through the streets towards the center of town where the one and only shoe store is located. The next closest is about seventy miles away, at our nearest mall. Christy nibbles her lip and lifts one eyebrow suspiciously.

“Why?”

“How would you feel if we just … I don't know, hopped on one and left?” I imagine my arms sliding around Austin's thick body, tangling in the leather of his jacket while the wind stings my face and the hot eye of the sun looks down on us with envy. I shiver. That's a romanticized view to be sure, but I can't help to entertain it. Everybody needs a little fantasy in their life; why do you think romance novels are so darn popular?

“Spill,” Christy says, looking both terrified and excited at the same time. “Did you buy us motorcycles?” I laugh.

“Not exactly.” I think of Austin again, and in the bright light of day, my request actually seems sort of … ridiculous. I don't have his number; he doesn't have mine. He never even asked for it. I don't know even know how I'm supposed to find him today. That thought hits me suddenly, like I've just run into a brick wall, and I immediately find myself short of breath. “Shit.”

Christy gives me a look.

“You alright?” I touch my hand to my belly and try to think. I guess I just assumed I'd find him in the crowd. I mean, he isn't difficult to spot. I could see Austin Sparks from a mile away.

“I … I asked Austin if we could join his motorcycle club.” Not we, I. Me. I asked Austin if I could join his club. I'm going to have to amend that to us as soon as possible. Christy laughs. She doesn't think I'm serious. I look down at my hands and then back up at her, studying the dimple in her chin and the way her earrings sway in the breeze from the air conditioner. “I'm serious, Christy,” I tell her, and she stops smiling. A horrible, awkward moment of silence stretches long and heavy between us.

“With Beck's group?” she asks, and it takes me a moment to respond because I want to say Austin's group. I remember that Austin introduced the redhead as his friend and assume that they're one in the same. Triple M he called it. I wonder what it stands for?

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Another moment of awkward silence.

“I thought you wanted to leave?” I ask her, wondering why her face is suddenly going all red and her eyes are starting to water again. She shakes her head and doesn't speak to me for awhile, not until we hit the downtown area and snag a prime parking space just a block away from the yellow tape that marks the festival's borders.

“I do, but I … ” She stops talking and turns the engine off, dropping the keys into her purse with a sigh. “I do, and I don't.”

“But you just said you wanted to? And last night – ”

“I know what I said!” she snaps, and then she gets out of the car and starts off down the sidewalk like she can't be bothered. I watch her disappear inside the shoe shop – Heavenly Soles (yes, that's its true name) – and climb out with a sigh of my own. Things seemed so different last night, less complicated. Now that the hot Southern sun is blaring in my face, pulling beads of sweat from my skin the instant I step outside the car, it feels like a tangled mass of heart strings and uncertainties. Maybe I'm being childish? Maybe I should just forget any of this ever happened and move on?

But then I see him. I see Austin Sparks moving down the sidewalk towards me.


Chapter 18


I'm coming out of the hotel with a headache the size of Texas, when I see Amy Cross climb out of a small, blue car and turn towards me. The second I catch her gaze, my body goes up in flames, and I find myself jogging down the Goddamn sidewalk to meet her. She keeps me locked in the whole way, using those round baby blues to tease me into a frenzy that makes me wish I could just slam her into the nearest wall and f*ck the living daylights out of her. What in the shit is it with this damn girl, Austin? You need to get her out of your system and fast. I force myself to slow down when I get closer to her. Or take her with you. Shit.