Falling to Pieces (13 page)

12

Asher

“Man, what happened to you?” Cole says the minute I open the door to let him in.

“You sound just like my mom.” I wave him inside and close the door behind him.
It’s late in the morning so Mom and Dad have already left for work, and Reece is still sleeping. I’ve surmised that noon is his preferred wake up time.

“Was it Michael?”

I nod, scratching the back of my neck.

“No way. What does he look like?” Cole takes a seat at my kitchen table
, picks up an apple from the fruit basket in the center and takes a bite. It makes a loud snap, and juice sprays on his face. As he wipes it off I marvel at how things haven’t really changed over the years. Cole has always treated my house like it was his.

“He’s f
ine. I didn’t really fight back.” I take the seat across from him.

“What? The Asher I know never backs down from a fight.” Bits of apple spew out of his mouth as he speaks.

“That was before.” This morning when I was checking out the bruises I was actually surprised that Michael didn’t do more damage. Even at the time he seemed to be hitting a little half-heartedly. I remember the way the other guys were goading him. Only a couple of them seemed to want it to stop, and that was probably because they used to be my friends too. The others were guys I hardly know. A few minutes into the fight I felt that Michael was doing the whole thing more for show or obligation. Whatever the reason, I’m grateful.

Cole’s face grows serious
, and my stomach knots. It’s never good when Cole gets that look. “You know, Cam never would’ve wanted this.”

I sigh. The last thing I want to do is talk anymore about Cam. I’m starting to wish I’d stayed in LA. At least there my past doesn’t haunt me every minute. “Why did you come over
, Cole? I doubt it was to talk about my face and eat apples.”

“Yeah, I wanted to see if you want to go on a
double date with Mercedes and me. Her friend Sydney can’t stop talking about you.” He wrinkles his nose. “But obviously we’ll have to wait a couple of days for your face to look normal.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“What do you say?”

“I don’t know, man. I’m not sure that
Sydney’s my type.”

Cole leans his elbows on the table. “Not your type? She’s cute and she’s into you. What more do you want?”

I chuckle at his reasoning, and then shrug. My thoughts fly back to my conversation with Ivy the night before. I practically poured my heart out to her and she couldn’t do the same. Ivy knows how hard it is for me to share my feelings. She knows me so well, better than anyone. I curse myself for being so transparent with her last night. What good did it do?

Cole’s offer sure
beats sitting around here getting the third degree from Mom or having odd conversations with Reece. Besides, it will be a good distraction from my feelings for Ivy. “Why not?”

“Cool.” Cole swings his leg out of the chair, grippi
ng his half-eaten apple. “I’ll work it out and let you know.”

The minute Cole leaves
Reece enters the kitchen.

“What’s up, dude?” he says
. “Not getting into anymore fights, are you?”

I stand up. “Ha, ha, very funny.”

Reece huffs, reaching into the fridge. “Hey, I’m cool with it. Ever since you got back Mom has been leaving me alone.”

I feel bad for causing Mom so much grief. I haven’t meant to. I guess I just have more unfinished business here than I thought.

“So, you gonna tell me what really happened?” Reece closes the door to the fridge, drinking orange juice straight from the carton. He’s wearing nothing but boxer shorts, and his hair is sticking up all over the place.

“No, I’m not. I can’t even take you seriously right now.”

“Fine.” Reece discards the juice container on the counter.  “I’ll go get dressed. Then will you tell me?”

“There’s nothing to tell.” I start to walk out of the kitchen.

“It was about Ivy, wasn’t it?”

I whirl around. “Just shut up, Reece. It’s none of your business.”

Reece cocks an eyebrow. “Dude, you look like you’re ready to blow. I’m right, aren’t I?”

Shaking my head, I hurry out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
I wish everyone would just leave me alone about Ivy. How am I going to move on and get past her if everyone keeps bringing her up? When I get to my room, I close the door and sit on the edge of my bed. At first last night was just like old times. I was teasing Ivy and she was getting all flustered. I picture her face – her cheeks flushed, her lips parted – when I came out wearing nothing but a towel. I did it just to get under her skin, but it was fun to see her so flustered. It actually gave me some satisfaction, since she’s flustered me so much over the years.

I never should’ve pushed her to tell me her secret, only I thought f
or sure she’d tell. She seemed like she was ready to open up, and frankly that’s what I deserve from her. I opened up to her, and all she could do was say she cared about me. Lots of people care for things – their car, their dogs, their cats. I want her to do more than just care about me. I want her to finally let me in; to tear down those walls she hides behind. I want her to finally tell me the truth about that night. The fact that she can’t tell me hurts me more than I can express.

13

Ivy

“Are you ready?” Bi
llie asks.

“Almost,” I call from the other side of my bedroom door. The truth is that I’ve been physically ready for awhile. I’m dresse
d, my hair is fixed, and my makeup’s done, but emotionally I’m not even close to being ready. Double dates are not my thing, and blind double dates are even less my thing.

“Brandon and Tyler are probably already at the restaurant. Come on,” Billie complains.

Letting out a frustrated groan, I throw the door open. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into this double date in the first place.”

“Because you need to get out and have a life,” Billie reminds me.

Asher coming back to town has sure spun my world on its axis. Before he came back I was content to sit in the apartment every weekend while Billie went out. Then he came back and stirred up all these emotions in me. Now it’s been easier for Billie to convince me to get out. I think because when I’m home I can’t stop thinking about Asher. I need a distraction. Maybe this random guy, Tyler, will be that for me tonight.

The last time I saw Asher was the night he was attacked.
I miss him so much it hurts, but I know I need to let him go. He’s right. Everything he said that night was true. If I can’t be honest with him, then I need to just let him move on.

“Where are they meeting us?” I ask
, as I pick up my purse.

“Chicago Fire,” Billie responds.

“On Sutter Street?” 

She nods, flinging
the strap of her purse over her shoulder and walking toward the front door. As I follow her, I think about the last time I was on Sutter Street. I sure hope tonight ends differently than that night.

“I tried to pick somewhere different,” Billie explains
, as we pound down the stairs. “I mean, the last thing I want to do is eat greasy, messy pizza on a date, but that’s where the boys really wanted to go.”

I was getting less excited about this by the minute. What kind of guy chooses a place his date doesn’
t even want to go? Brandon doesn’t seem very appealing whenever Billie talks to me about him, but I will just keep my mouth shut. Knowing Billie’s track record, I’m sure he won’t last long.

The restaurant
is busy as always, but Brandon and Tyler already have a table so I am grateful for that. I don’t feel like sitting for an hour waiting for the little pager to go off, signaling that our table’s ready. Tyler is actually pretty cute with short brown hair, green eyes and an inviting smile. He’s a little skinnier than I usually like, but I can overlook that if he’s nice enough. Smiling, I introduce myself and then slide into the booth next to him.

When our legs touch, I’m grateful that I chose to dress casually in jeans and a black top, unlike the other night at the party when I wore that dang dress. This way I feel more like myself
, and I’m not worried about having my legs exposed.

“We already ordered sodas,” Brandon announces, pointing at the filled cups on the table.

“Thanks.” Billie nudges him in the shoulder, and then snatches up her glass.

“So, you work at the restaurant with Brandon, huh?” Tyler asks above the loud chattering
, and clanging of dishes that swirl around us.

“Yeah.” I nod. “What about you? Do you work?”

“No, I’m just a student right now.”

I feel a twinge of j
ealousy at this. “Really? Where do you go?”

“Sac State.”

Billie giggles at something Brandon says across from us.

“What are you studying?”
I ask, ignoring them.

“I’m majoring in business. I’m not really sure what I want to do, so I figure I can do a lot with that degree.” Tyler reaches for his soda and takes a sip. I notice his mannerisms are more methodical than Asher’s, who always seems to move impulsively, and then I chastise myself for even thinking about Asher right now.

A waitress approaches our table, her pen poised over a tiny pad of paper. We order a pepperoni pizza, and then the waitress scurries off. The raucous table next to us hoots in laughter and talks loudly. Billie leans forward and smiles at Tyler. Uh oh. I recognize that look. What’s she up to? My stomach tightens.

“Tyler, did Ivy tell you that she’s a writer?”
Billie says, and I pin her with a glare.

“You are? That’s awesome,” Tyler says.

Sighing, I look at him. “No, I’m not really.” I think about how my journalistic endeavors are hidden under my pillow, and it causes shame to fill me. “I mean, I like to write. I hope to be a journalist one day.”

“Is that what you’re studying in school?”

I bite my lip, glancing down at my hands. “I’m taking a break from school right now.” I could kill Billie for bringing this up.

“Oh.” Tyler looks around as if he has no idea what to say. If Asher were here, he’d make this whole moment less awkward by making a joke or something. Tyler doesn’t really seem like the teasing kind, and smooth segues are clearly not his gift.

“Excuse me a minute, I have to use the restroom.” I look at Billie as I swing my legs out of the booth. “Wanna come with?”

“Okay.” She nods, picking up on
my underlying meaning.

“Girls.” Brandon shakes his head a
s Billie slides out. “Always have to go to the restroom together. What’s that about?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know
?”  Billie winks, before taking my arm. As we walk forward, she whispers, “So, what do you think of Tyler? He’s nice, huh?”

“Yeah, a little too nice,” I mutter under my breath.

“What do you mean?” Billie’s eyes widen as we weave through tables filled with patrons. We pass a waiter carrying drinks, and two girls stumbling through the restaurant in stiletto heels. Their strong perfume chokes me, and I gag. “Oh no, you’re comparing him to Asher, aren’t you?”

“No,” I protest, tugging on Billie’s arm to steer her toward the restroom.

“You totally are.”

We enter the bathroom
and thankfully are the only people in here. “I’m not. I just think he seems a little boring.”

“You would’ve liked him a month ago. He’s totally your type. Smart, cute, and reserved.”  She smiles wickedly. “I’ve got to say that ever since Asher came back I’ve seen a different side of you.”

I roll my eyes. “This has nothing to do with him.”

“Oh, I think it has everything to do with him.”

“Whatever.” I move toward one of the stalls. “Can you please just not tell people I’m a writer anymore? It’s embarrassing.” Stepping into the stall, I close the metal door behind me and turn the lock.

“Why? I think it makes you seem interesting. Besides, I knew Tyler would totally eat it up. Brandon told me he’s the intellectual type.”

“But, Billie, it’s not true. I’m not a writer.” I crouch over the toilet and see Billie’s feet from under my stall as she stand in front of the mirror.

“Okay, okay, I won’t mention it again.”

The door swings open, and heels click on the linoleum floors. The scent of hairspray wafts into my stall. I flush the toilet, pull up my jeans and walk out to the sink. Two girls with eighties hairdos stand at the mirror, primping.  I pull up beside them and wash my hands, while Billie glides a tube of red lipstick over her lips.

“So, you really like Brandon, don’t you?” I ask, reaching for the paper towels.

She gives me the shrug I know too well. “He’s fine. I like going out with him, and he always pays.”

“That’s it, huh?” After wiping my hands dry, I pitch the paper towel into the trash can
, and we head back out into the noisy restaurant. “No passionate love affair then?”