Pictures of You (29 page)

             
“It’s nothing.”

             
“You’re lying,” I said.

             
“You’re right. There’s something I have to tell you, September.” His troubled eyes and furrowed brow worried me. “But I can’t…”

             
“Tell me,” I urged. “You can tell me anything.”

             
He shook his head. “It’s complicated.”

             
“Come on. You told me your deepest, darkest secret. It hasn’t changed the way I feel about you. If anything, I love you more.”

             
Adrien raised an eyebrow.

             
We watched a little puffy bird frantically eating an old French fry plastered to the ground. Adrien tickled the inside of my arm. It felt great, but I knew it was only a ploy to distract me.

             
“Tell me,” I repeated. He sighed, folding his arms. “You’re a very stubborn man, Adrien Gray.”

             
“I could say the same about you. Only you’re not a man, thankfully,” he added with a laugh.

             
I watched a devilish smile creep up on his lips. “What is it?” I asked, perplexed by his sudden change in mood.

             
“Let’s play a game.”

             
“What?” How could he want to play Scrabble or Monopoly at a time like this? He was always surprising me, but that was one of the things I loved about him.

             
“Starting tomorrow you have to be completely honest with me.”

             
I pulled my brows together. “I’m
always
honest with you—”

             
“Here’re the rules. One,” he began, raising a finger. “I get to ask you whatever I want. You have to answer
all
my questions with pure, unadulterated honesty. Two. You don’t get to ask any questions in reply. Not even one.”

             
“But—”

             
“No buts.” He placed a finger over my lips. “And then I’ll tell you…the thing…after your folks’ party.”

             
“Why can’t you tell me now?” Chills shot through me as his finger moved away from my mouth and traced the outline of my jaw. His green eyes bore deeply into mine.

             
“You’ll understand later. Is it a deal?”

             
I moaned, frustrated and confused. I hated secrets. I knew I could make myself sick tearing it apart, analyzing it. But I was more relieved than anything. Relieved that he was here. Here to stay. Mine, hopefully for forever.

             
“It’s a deal,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re a complete weirdo—and I love that about you, by the way—but it’s a deal.”

             
When we got back to his car, the sky turned to a murky, dishwater gray. As he opened the door for me, I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him in for a kiss. We kissed enthusiastically, but there was something sad about the kiss, like it would be our last one, like we were saying goodbye. I finally pulled away, catching my breath.

             
“Why do I get the feeling you’re still leaving me?” I asked, searching for answers in his baby grass green eyes.

             
He was quiet for a time, his lips turned downward. Finally he said, “I won’t leave you. Ever. I promise.” He said it with confidence, but a flicker of pain in his eyes had me doubting. I never could’ve predicted in a thousand years what he would say after that: “But after tomorrow tonight,
you’re
going to leave
me
.”

***

              “Is everything okay? You’ve been unusually quiet tonight,” Chris asked as I worked up a foam on the restroom counter. Standing behind me, he watched for my response in the reflection of the dirty mirror.

             
“Huh?”

             
“What’s going on? You’ve scrubbed that same spot for like a year now.”

             
“Oh. I guess I’m just worn out. Long week. Long couple of weeks. No, actually long five months. The longest five months of my life.” I sighed, wishing I could make an early date with my pillow. I was so tired. Utterly wasted. I couldn’t remember a time I was more exhausted.

             
“You’ve been through a lot. With your stupid ex dumping you, with Abby. And now you’re wasting your time with that suicidal loser.” I heard a toilet seat slam.

             
Normally I would’ve argued, defended myself. I would have explained how everything was different now, but I didn’t have even an ounce of energy left to explain the turn of events. I would tell Chris everything. Later. All I knew was that I desperately needed a good night’s sleep, then tomorrow I’d get to spend the whole day with the boy I loved, the boy who’d chosen to stick around—in part to be with me. I was too worn out to let it sink in that I’d be bringing a boyfriend to my parents’ party. (A boyfriend! Did that mean Adrien was my boyfriend now? I liked the sound of that.) I’d have plenty of time to feel smug tomorrow.

             
“What is it, Tember?” Chris asked after our ten minute break. I’d spent the break resting on a sofa in the lounge, making a failed attempt to take a nap. Usually Chris and I spent our breaks together, playing cards, watching funny videos on his phone. But my relentless thoughts wouldn’t leave me be. I was dying to know the final secret Adrien kept from me and why he was certain I would leave him.
Of course
I wouldn’t leave him. I was too gone on him now to leave him. I’ve never loved a guy more than I loved Adrien Gray. It would take something pretty colossal to change my mind about him. He’d have to be a member of the KKK or a puppy torturer or a neo-Nazi. What made him so sure I’d leave him? Was he really that insecure? Did he not realize how crazy about him I was?

             
Maybe I’d have to take a sleeping pill tonight. Rose had written me a prescription months earlier when I’d complained of insomnia. It was during the nightmare period, when I was forced to replay the accident over and over each night. I’d only used them twice but held onto the bottle just in case. Tonight might be one of those nights, tonight I may need a little something to barricade these thoughts.

             
I sighed. I was so tired. I probably should have just called in sick. But I would have felt like a total jerk leaving Chris with all this work to do, especially since I’d been neglecting him more lately. “Can we talk later? I’m pooped.”

             
Chris eyed me carefully, his face drenched in concern. “Sure. Later.”

             
Tonight was different from any other night. For the first time since we’d met, we worked side by side in silence. Chris gave up trying to start a conversation. He put in his ear buds and listened to the classic rock stuff he loved so much. I felt kind of bad and wondered what would become of Chris and me, now that Adrien was definitely in the picture—long term.

             
After we finished the final restroom, I pulled off my rubber gloves and tossed them into the garbage, then kicked off my blue jumper. “See you Monday, Chris,” I said, pulling on my jacket, happy the night was over, overjoyed to become one with my bed.

             
“See you, September.” He frowned. “Good luck with tomorrow night. I really wish I could be there for you.” He rested a hand on my back for a small moment.

             
I knew I should’ve said something. He’d probably worry about me all weekend because he was that way—so sweet and selfless and concerned—and he
was
one of my closest friends. I knew I’d been selfish lately, neglecting our friendship, taking Chris for granted. And I did feel guilty about it. But the image of my snuggly bed pulled me away from doing the right thing, the considerate thing.

             
One more thing pulling me away from Chris.

29

             
“Your all-time favorite song?”

             
“With Or Without You by U2.”

             
“That’s a good one,” Adrien said, nodding in approval.

             
“What can I say? My taste is impeccable,” I said, sitting on the living floor Indian-style, fiddling with my camera while Adrien, on the couch, played with my hair. I closed my eyes from time to time, enjoying the tingles shooting through my body, sinking deeper and deeper into a restful bliss. The apartment was quiet. We could hear the hum of the refrigerator, the ticking of the guitar-shaped clock hanging by the entertainment center. Although it was late morning, Mary was still in bed.

             
“Favorite food?”

             
“I think you know this one. Indian.”

             
He twisted a lock of my hair around his finger. “That’s right. Vegetable coconut kurma.”

             
“You remembered,” I said, touched.

             
“It was a memorable first date. I’m sorry I took off like that.”

             
“It’s over now,” I said, shrugging.

             
“Favorite time of year?” he asked, his strong hands kneading the back of my neck now, loosening the knots.

             
“September,” I answered. “It’s my birth month, after all. And I love summer. Mmm. That feels great. You should consider doing this professionally.”

             
“Hmm, maybe I will. I guess I do need to find a job now. I wonder if Mike would be willing to give me my old job back. Which brings me to the next question: favorite car?”

             
“Volkswagen Beetle. I have to make a confession: I don’t drive—anymore, I mean. Since the accident, it freaks me out. I tried, but I get panic attacks.”

             
His hands stopped mid-massage. “Really? Do you think you’ll ever drive again?”

             
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Maybe someday. And maybe if I wore a football helmet and maybe some body armor and drove only on the back roads,” I said, partially kidding.

             
Mary stumbled into the room, still in her pajamas, her newly dyed purple hair in tangled disarray. Mascara streaks loitered the sides of her swollen face—a big clue she had been crying.

             
“Bad night?” I asked, laughing nervously.

             
“Something like that,” she said, yawning, scratching her armpit.

             
“Are you okay? You look like you were crying,” I probed.

             
“Keaton and I had a little fight. Nothing major.”

             
“I’m sorry,” I said and I was surprised I meant it. I guess I was okay with Abby’s boyfriend moving on now. I mean what did I expect? That he’d wear sackcloth and ashes forever? It’s not like I wasn’t making other friends—so why shouldn’t Keaton be able to date? Abby would always be a huge part of us, but I know she would’ve wanted us to live our lives.

             
She shrugged. “Not a big deal. His band is leaving tomorrow for a tour. He doesn’t want me to come.”

             
“Why not?” I asked.

             
“Who knows? This is why I usually try to avoid men,” Mary said, rolling her eyes. She poured herself some coffee and got started on breakfast.

             
Adrien shrugged, his face amused. He continued our silly game. “Favorite Abby
memory?”

             
“That’s impossible. There’re just too many,” I said, turning around to face him. “Wait, I know. Probably when we went on that cross-country road trip just before the accident. It was magical. Other than to end up in LA, we didn’t make any plans. It was all spontaneous. We’d drive until we couldn’t stand it anymore and stay at random cheap motels. We stayed up late eating junk food and watching bad cable TV. We’d stop and check out these silly tourist traps, like Olney, Illinois, the mecca of albino squirrels and the International UFO Museum in Roswell, New Mexico.”

             
Adrien laughed. “Albino squirrels?”

             
“You should go there sometime. They are so cute. Abby and I were tempted to kidnap one and take it home for a pet. Of course Tiger would’ve probably tried to eat it, plus we weren’t sure if we could housetrain a squirrel.”

             
“You’re hilarious.”