Ten months later
If someone had told me last year that I’d be finishing up junior year in Santa Monica and not Portland, I would never have believed them. I would have laughed. Yet here I am, piling my marine biology textbooks into my locker and rummaging around for my car keys. When I find them and take a step back, Rachael comes twirling over to me from the other end of the hallway.
“Another day down!” she cheers, a huge grin on her face. She lifts her hand and waves two fingers in front of my face. Yesterday it was three; the day before it was four. “Two days to go until graduation!”
“Yeah, for you,” I mutter, pretending to be pissed off, but then I roll my eyes and laugh. Rachael’s been counting down the days ever since Christmas and she’s already perfected her method of tossing her cap, so I’m cutting her some slack, despite how badly I hate the whole idea of her graduating. “When you’re in college, remember to spare a thought for your best friend who’s still stuck here.”
“You’re our little baby,” she coos as she stretches out an arm to pat my head, but I duck and step to the side, fixing her with a deathly glare. I quickly scan the hallway to make sure no one noticed, but Rachael just giggles and purses hers lips together innocently. “You have to make sure our legacy lives on,” she says. “I want you to write my name on every bathroom stall to ensure that I become a legend within this building. In five years’ time, I want people to know that I walked these hallways.”
“Unfortunately, no one actually cares.” She whacks my arm just as I slam my locker shut, but then her laughter fades and her lips flatten into an awkward half smile. I know that expression like the back of my hand, so I heave a sigh and ask the daily question. I already know the answer. “Tiffani’s coming, isn’t she?”
Rachael quickly nods, and when I turn around I see the same thing I see every other day. Tiffani and Jake, hand in hand, sauntering down the hallway. It doesn’t faze me. Honestly, I think they’re an okay couple. The rest of the school seems to agree, with the girls constantly telling Tiffani how jealous they are, to which she usually flashes a dazzling grin in reply. They’ve been dating for a while now. Tyler was scribbled off her “must have” list a long time ago.
“Hey, guys,” she says softly as she passes, and Jake gives us a clipped nod. But they don’t stop; they never stop, because Tiffani and I still aren’t on speaking terms. We can be civil, the same way Tyler and Jake are (although now the tension has grown worse), but we aren’t friends. Rachael and Meghan try to hang out with us separately. Thankfully, Tiffani’s going to UCSB, so she’s packing up and heading for Santa Barbara in the fall. Jake’s going to Ohio State, halfway across the country, so I’ve been wondering how long the two of them will be able to cope with the distance. I give it a month.
They float off down the hall and disappear out the exit, and Rachael turns to me, breathing out the air she’s been holding in. “On the bright side,” she says, “you won’t have to see her every day.”
This is the difficult aspect of being in a group of friends who are all a grade above you. When Rachael, Meghan, Tiffani, Jake, Dean and Tyler graduate on Thursday, I’ll be left behind. I still have senior year to plough through before I get to experience college for myself. For now, I’ll have to stick with my friends in my own grade, the ones I’ve made gradually over the past year, who may not be my best friends but are still a great group of people.
I swing my car keys around my index finger as I start to make my way to the exit. Rachael quickly follows, so I steal a sideways glance at her. Thank God she’s going to UCLA. She and Dean are the only two who aren’t moving away. “Are you seeing Trevor tonight?”
“I think so.” Her face lights up at the mere mention of his name. They may be in a relationship, but Rachael still sees him as her crush, as though she’s still fighting for his attention. She’s constantly blushing around him, constantly smiling. “And I think I heard Meghan say that Jared’s coming into town to visit her.”
“Where is Meg?” I ask as we slip through the exit to the sprawling student lot. The scorching sun beats down on us as we make our way to our cars, the lot emptying. No one ever hangs around for long once classes are finished for the day. “I haven’t seen her.”
“She had to ditch classes after lunch,” Rachael informs me just as we reach our cars, parked side by side, of course. Rachael throws open the door to the Bug and tosses her purse inside, but she lingers outside for a moment, staring at me from over the roofs of our vehicles. “See you tomorrow, first thing?”
When I nod, she blows me a kiss and I gracefully pretend to catch it. “Enjoy your night with Trevor!” I call just before I slide into my car and rev up the engine. The steering wheel burns my hands when I first touch it, so I end up steering with my fingertips as I peel out of the lot and onto the boulevard.
Luckily, Mom’s house is in the North of Montana region, just like Dad’s, and it’s handy having them live close by each other so that there’s no need for me to travel back and forth between opposite corners of the city. I take the Deidre Avenue route home, passing Dad’s house to see who’s there, and when I glance in my rearview mirror I see Rachael’s car turn off the road and pull up on her driveway. We used to joke about carpooling, because our routes home are the exact same, only mine has an extra couple minutes added on top, but we’ve never gotten around to sharing rides. It’s too late to start now.
I roll down my window to let some air into my car as I push my shades on, nodding my head in sync with La Breve Vita’s newest single, an upbeat tune with a sick chorus that’s been stuck in my head for days. I refuse to ever take it off repeat.
When I reach Mom’s place, it doesn’t surprise me that there are no cars parked out front. Both she and Jack are at work, like they usually are most weekdays when I come home. Turning onto the driveway, I cut the engine and pull myself out of my car and into the blistering sunlight again. It really is hot out today. Wiping away a bead of sweat, I pull out my keys and head inside.
I’ve always found Mom’s house much more welcoming than Dad’s. Ever since she found it on the market last year, I’ve fallen in love with it. I like that it’s small and only has two bedrooms. I like that it has a cute porch and a nice fireplace. It’s always so cozy and homey inside, and it’s the perfect place for Mom and me. And Jack now, too, of course. He moved in a month ago, and it’s starting to feel normal having him here all the time.
I’m greeted by Gucci the second I step foot over the threshold. She comes bounding over to me, paws sliding on the wooden flooring, tongue out. She circles my legs, sniffing at my clothes as I reach down to scratch the back of her ears, just the way she likes it. She’s a gorgeous German Shepherd. It turned out Mom was actually serious last summer when she suggested getting a dog, and arriving home in Portland to find a puppy flying around the house was definitely the best thing to come home to. Mom chose the name. She told me once that she likes to believe it helps Gucci fit in here in LA. It took me a while to get it.
Right about the time Mom was considering moving down here, a job appeared at Saint John’s Health Center, a hospital right bang in the middle of the city. And if that wasn’t luck, then it sure as hell was when she actually got the job. The salary is better and the shifts are more suitable, and Mom doesn’t seem so tired all the time anymore. She’s constantly smiling, and I know it’s because of a combination of several things: Jack, the new job, and Gucci. Moving down here really has been beneficial to her.
“I hope you’re in the mood for spaghetti and meatballs, because that’s all I feel capable of making tonight,” she huffs as she walks into the living room. She’s changed out of her scrubs, but her hair is still pinned into a neat bun, her smile reaching her eyes as Gucci greets her by jumping up on her.
“She’s hyper today,” I comment, nodding my head at the crazed animal who’s attempting to slobber Mom in kisses, but she holds her back. “Did you walk her before work?”
“No, I was running late,” Mom admits as she stands, wiping the dog hair off her pants. She rolls up her sleeves and nods to the leash that’s hung up by the front door. “Can you take her out just now? Just while I’m making dinner.”
I agree. It’s perfect weather outside, I’m bored, and I could do with visiting a few people. Leaving Mom to prepare the food, I hook Gucci up to her leash and set off through the neighborhood. Gucci tugs at the leash, her body much stronger than mine, and I feel her pulling me along just like she always does. I once tried to take her with me on one of my runs, but I only ended up out of breath and panting after ten minutes, completely unable to keep up with her, so I had to turn around and go home before I dropped dead.
It only takes us ten minutes to reach my first port of call—Dean’s house. Instead of heading inside like I normally do, I try to be creative, so I pull out my phone and dial his number. I stare at his bedroom window while I listen to the monotonous ring.
“Eden,” he answers.
I smile at the sound of his voice. “Come outside. Gucci wants to see you.” When she hears me say her name, her ears perk up and she looks up at me with huge glossy eyes.
Dean laughs gently across the line, and even though I heard that exact same laugh last night when we were at the movies, it feels like I haven’t heard it in days. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of it. “On my way,” he says, and then hangs up.
I shove my phone back into my pocket and pat Gucci on the top of her head. “Good work, girl.” She sits by my side on Dean’s lawn, her tail wagging as we wait for him to get outside. More sweat tickles my brow.
The front door swings open, and Dean steps out and pats his thighs, yelling “Gucci!” at the top of his lungs. He knows I hate it when he does this, because Gucci always hurls herself at him, her weight almost yanking my arm out of its socket before I get the chance to let go of the leash. When I do, she bounds across the grass and jumps up on him, knocking him back a step or two.
“Who is it you’re dating?” I call, and when he hears me, he shoots me a lopsided smirk and pushes Gucci off him. He grabs her leash and makes his way over to me. “Is it me or the dog?”
“Most definitely you,” Dean says. With his free hand, he clutches my waist and pulls me toward him, pressing his lips to mine. Dean’s always been a gentle, deep kisser, and he’s always been one to smile in between each one, which is exactly what he’s doing now. I can feel his lips twitching into a grin against mine. “You’re a better kisser than the dog, that’s for sure.”
I let out a laugh as he steps back and passes the leash to me. “I’d be worried if you said I wasn’t.”
From behind him, Dean’s dad, Hugh, has propped his head around the doorframe and is throwing me a wave. He’s wearing a dark-blue boiler suit covered in grease, which means he just got off work within the past fifteen minutes. Hugh owns a garage, and Dean’s about to start working for him right after graduation. Dean’s referring to it as a gap year before he packs up and heads for college, and I’m glad he’ll still be in Santa Monica while I finish senior year.
“Am I still coming over later?” he asks.
“Of course.” Tuesday nights are when Mom and Jack clear out to give us some space. Mom’s even started calling it “Deansday.”
“Great.” Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he pulls out his wallet and flicks through the notes. “Here,” he says, and passes me the exact same five-dollar bill that we’ve been passing back and forth for a year now. We’ll find any excuse to use it. “Five bucks for letting me see the dog.”
I roll my eyes and stuff the battered bill into my pocket, tightening my grip on Gucci’s leash and glancing down the avenue. “I’m going to go drop by my dad’s place. I’ll see you tonight.”
I bid him farewell by planting a quick kiss on the corner of his lips. Gucci stares after him as he disappears into the house, so I struggle to yank her away to begin with, but then she backs down and soon we’re on our way to Dad’s house.
It’s only five minutes away if I walk fast, which isn’t a problem considering Gucci is pulling me along, quickening my pace. When we near it, I notice that all three cars are there: the Lexus, the Range Rover, the Audi. This tells me that everyone’s here, including Tyler. My stomach flutters.
As I’m making my way up to the front door, I hear voices and laughter coming from the back yard, so I alter my course and make for the gate instead. Chase is in the pool, Dad is attempting to spark up the barbecue, and Jamie is kicking a soccer ball around. Gucci barks when she sees it and tries to lunge across the yard, but I grab her collar and hold her back.
“Eden!” Dad lifts his head from the barbecue and gives me a nod, genuinely looking happy to see me. We’ve never really sat down and talked about what happened last summer, and I’m still angry with him, but he’s been trying a lot harder to get along with me recently. Maybe our relationship will never be what it was. Or maybe it’ll just take time. But at least now we’re trying. “Are you hungry? We’re about to cook up a feast.” It reminds me of last summer, of my first day here in Santa Monica and my first time meeting Tyler. It feels like a decade ago.
“Mom’s already got dinner under control,” I tell Dad quickly, because I’m still focused on trying to hold Gucci back. I fire Jamie a pleading glance. “Jamie, please hide the ball for a second.”
He rolls his eyes as he kicks the ball up and catches it, before turning around and gently tossing it through the patio doors. Now that Gucci can longer burst it I unclip her leash and let her go. She whizzes around the yard like a lunatic.
“Is Tyler here?” I ask. It’s mostly because I didn’t get the chance to speak to him at school today, and I have yet to go a single day without talking to him, but I also ask because part of me wonders what he’s doing right now, and what he’s thinking about, and if he still loves cotton candy as much as he loves amusement park rides.
Dad doesn’t glance up from the barbecue, but he does point to the house with his thumb. “Upstairs.”
I leave Gucci in the yard under Jamie’s supervision and make my way into the house, which is also my second home. I’ve spent more and more time here over the past year, and now Jamie and Chase really do feel like my little brothers. Ella can never take my mom’s place, but I know I can rely on her. Dad . . . Well, Dad is Dad. I alternate weekly between my mom’s place and here, so that I have the chance to live with both halves of my family, because quite frankly, I love them both.
“Eden! Are you here for the barbecue?” Ella’s standing by the island, measuring out jugs of juice, but she pauses to smile at me. She’s wearing her suit, the jacket placed neatly over the back of a chair behind her, and I figure she hasn’t been home for long. She’s been back at work for six months now.
“Not tonight,” I say. “I was walking the dog and I thought I’d drop by. Tyler’s upstairs, right?”
“Yes, he’s packing.” She sighs, but she’s smiling.
Despite the way my chest aches at the thought of him moving away, I head across the kitchen and into the hall, skipping up the stairs two steps at a time. It’s silent upstairs, and the blinding sun lights up each room. Tyler’s door is ajar, a stream of sunlight shining through. I push it open fully.
There are two suitcases laid open on his bed, half filled with his clothes, and the rest of the room is bare. Everything else has already been shipped across the country and is waiting for him in his apartment, right in the center of Manhattan. Tyler steps out of the bathroom and gives me a small smile.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey.”
There’s a silence, the same as there always is every day when we talk. It’s not an awkward silence. It’s become familiar. It’s as though we need a moment to compose ourselves in case we do or say something we shouldn’t. A moment to pull on our game faces, to build up our brave fronts, to convince ourselves that we aren’t still in love with the person standing in front of us.
Ignoring the way my palms grow sweaty and how my heartbeat picks up, I stare at the suitcases for a short while before finally shifting my eyes over to meet his. “Can you believe you’re really moving to New York?”
It took Tyler a lot of convincing to agree to it, but here he is. On Monday, he’s flying over to New York and staying there for an entire year, traveling the East Coast, sharing his story, and possibly helping others. But he’s had to work hard for the opportunity. He’s graduating on Thursday with a 3.3 GPA. He hasn’t been high in eight months. The last time he raised his voice to any of us was last year. It’s like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders now that everyone knows the truth, everyone understands him. Inevitably, the truth had to come out at some point when he let it slip that he was moving to the other side of the country. Rachael’s a little nicer to him now.
“It’s kind of insane,” Tyler replies with a shrug, and he walks toward me with some more clothes, which he packs into the suitcase. “Car’s getting shipped tomorrow, and then that’s everything.”
“It’s going to be so weird not seeing you for an entire year.” I’m so proud of him for everything he’s done and everything he’s about to do, but at the same time it hurts knowing he’s not going to be here. No matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, he’s so, so much more than just my stepbrother. How am I supposed to cope without seeing the person I love every day? Somewhere within me, I know that it might help. Maybe being separated for a year will do us good. Give us some time to get over each other.
“That’s the worst part,” he murmurs. Reaching forward, he closes one of the suitcases and zips it up, and then he turns back to me. His eyes are still as gorgeous as they’ve always been, but I try not to think about it. “Have you thought anymore about next summer?”
Last week, Tyler invited me out to New York next summer. The events wrap up in June, but he won’t be coming home until August, so he’s spending his summer vacation in the city and he wants me to do the same. But that’s a dangerous idea.
“Just us two,” he reminds me, his eyes smoldering as he tries to suppress a smile. He takes a step closer to me, and it gets my pulse racing and my heart throbbing the same way they always do whenever he gets too close. All the air in my lungs rushes out. He stretches out an arm and pushes his bedroom door shut with a soft click.
Over the year, we’ve done a pretty good job of ignoring the attraction between us, and an even better job of ensuring no one finds out that there ever was one. Besides, I have Dean now. I should be focusing on him. But sometimes, just sometimes, Tyler and I forget to pretend. Like right now.
He takes another step toward me and draws me into his arms, hugging me tight against his body as I inhale his cologne. The Bentley cologne, his favorite. I already miss him and he hasn’t even left yet, and as I rest my chin on his shoulder he drops his hands to my waist. And so I’m hugging him and he’s hugging me back, and there shouldn’t be anything wrong with it, because I’m still allowed to hug my stepbrother, but there is something wrong. There’s sexual tension, and there shouldn’t be.
His breath feels hot against my neck as he exhales, his cheek brushing mine. He grips my waist tighter as he moves his lips slowly along my jaw, planting a sharp kiss on the corner of my mouth. I feel him smile against my lips, and he dares himself to whisper, “I’ll see you next summer, Eden.”
