Текст книги "Best Kind of Broken"

Автор книги: Chelsea Fine

Соавторы: Chelsea Fine
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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

19 Pixie

When lightning strikes the earth, it scars the ground, branding it with heat and energy as it singes a path to where it can burn no more. I know this because I accidentally paid attention in science class once, but I think about it every time there’s a storm on the horizon. Like today.

A bolt of lightning cuts through the sky and touches down in the distance, and I can almost feel its electric current running through my veins.

I throw the trash bag away and head back inside the kitchen.

It hurt to see Levi just now; to brush past him and smell him and not talk or touch. Will it ever be normal between us again? My chest aches as I ponder the possibility that we might not speak for the remainder of the summer. Maybe even the rest of our lives.

My heart lurches at the thought.

I start cleaning up for the day. The lunch rush was crazy and, thankfully, everyone has cleared out of the dining room, so I have a moment to catch my breath before dinner starts.

Angelo carries a carton of dirty glasses into the kitchen and, through the door, I see Daren’s perfect form walking across the empty dining room. I hurriedly swing through the door.

“Daren,” I call out.

He turns and smiles when he sees me. “Hey, Sarah.”

“What was with the kiss the other day?”

His smile drops. “Oh. Yeah. Don’t be pissed.”

“I’m pissed.”

He runs a bashful hand through his hair. “I know that was shady of me—”

“Damn straight.”

“But someone needs to light a fire under Levi’s ass,” he says. “He wants you and he doesn’t want anyone else to have you, but he’s too much of a dumbass to act on it. And it’s been that way for, hell, I don’t know, years, at least. I just wanted to provoke him a little. Remind him that you’re worth pursuing.” He smiles again, but makes a face when he realizes I’m not amused. “It was lame. I know.”

I roll my eyes in frustration, but I get it. Daren has always gone out of his way to push Levi’s buttons when it comes to me. He and Charity might have had a rocky on-again, off-again relationship, but he was always a pretty decent friend to me.

I sigh. “Okay, well, next time you want to provoke Levi, could you do it without involving my mouth?”

“Yeah. I’m an asshole. Sorry.” He gives me apologetic puppy dog eyes that only a heartless witch could resist.

“It’s fine,” I say. “Just be careful where you put your lips from now on.”

He winks. “Oh, I’m always careful where I put my lips.”

I bet.

“Ew. Just go.” I make my way back to the kitchen and finish wiping down the counters before I wrap up another bag of trash and carry it out to the Dumpster.

As I toss in the heavy trash bag, a humid breeze lifts the ends of my hair and blows across my cheeks. I look up and see the dark clouds rolling in, and my thoughts fly to last summer.

It was one of those almost-stormy days, much like today, where the sun shone brightly between purple clouds as if the sky couldn’t make up its mind about the weather. The air was thick and humid but the steady wind cooled my skin as I stood with a large group of friends at the ridge burn.

The ridge burn is a plot of forestland just outside of Copper Springs on Canary Road—a back road only locals used—that was struck by lightning years ago, leaving a cleared-out area of charred tree stumps and singed earth. It’s not useful for much, but it was the perfect starting place for our annual game of capture the flag.

It was a long-standing tradition; our high school would play the rival school in a summer game of capture the flag—in which the team “flags” were actual town flags—to determine which school would have the honor of flying the other town’s flag all year.

Copper Springs had lost the prior two years, so the stakes were high for me and my peers as we met with our opponents in the charred clearing. We partnered off, as we did every summer, but due to Charity being all chummy with Daren, and Levi arriving late, I ended up being partnered off with Levi. Which was fine by me because Levi was awesome at capture the flag.

The goal of the game was to snag the other team’s flag before being tagged by an opponent. Tree houses, crate boxes, forts, tents, and tunnels were strategically set up throughout the four acres of the ridge burn as places to hide along the way. Each team had a home base set up at opposite ends of the playing field, and that’s where we started.

Levi and I carefully maneuvered our way to the other team’s flag and snatched it before being tagged. That was the easy part. The tricky part was getting the flag back to our own team’s home base.

We quietly crept through the forest as the clouds darkened above us and thunder rumbled through the air. Our fort was clear on the other side of the ridge burn, so we’d have to hurry if we wanted to reach it before the summer downpour fell on us and made running difficult. We could see our home base in the far distance. Levi looked at me. I looked at him. We nodded at each other, once. I clutched the other team’s green-and-yellow flag in my fist and took a deep breath. Then we were off.

We rushed through the trees, smiles on our faces as we tried to outrun the storm. Droplets began to fall, catching on our cheeks and eyelashes as we charged through the darkening afternoon. We were fast, but the storm found us, and soon the clouds split open and rain poured down, deafening the day and mudding the ground.

“Come on!” Levi shouted with a smile, grabbing my hand as we splashed through mud and broken leaves.

I took his hand and laughed as he started spitting out the water coming down on him. We were already drenched, so there was no use in running, but we did anyway.

Lightning cut through the sky, a streak of silver in the dusky clouds, followed by another roar of thunder. It was an odd contrast to the sharp rays of sunshine slicing through the same darkness above us. Half day, half torrent. Beautiful and frightening. But I was nothing but brave with Levi holding my hand.

“We’re not going to make it,” I said, barely audible above the loud rain.

He looked around, then yanked me to the side with a smile. “Over here, Pix.”

I chased after him, the storm chasing after us, as he led us into a thicket of trees where a few forts were hidden.

Shelter.

He pulled us into the closest one; it was half-destroyed, so we plastered ourselves against the far wall where what little was left of the roof still stood. Well, Levi plastered himself against the wall. I plastered myself against his chest. Both of us stifled smiles as our opponents ran past the fort, completely oblivious to our presence. We were so going to win this time.

We stood, chest to chest, perfectly still for a moment, waiting for the footsteps outside to fade away. I looked up at Levi, a grin on my face, and mouthed, Suckers.

He looked down with a huge smile and nodded.

His gleaming eyes dropped to my mouth and, in an instant, everything changed. We changed.

I was aware of him completely. The way he smelled, the feel of his breaths against my face, his hard body lined against my chest.

Neither of us moved even though the footsteps had all but vanished outside. My eyes fell to his lips, and his chest filled with a deeper breath.

Oh God.

I looked back up at him, and the only thing I could think about were his blue eyes, solid and steady, intense and drowning me slowly.

I should have moved away from him. I should have laughed off the awkwardness and removed my body from the warmth of his. But instead I just stood there, trapped in this new sensation between us.

His eyes fell to my mouth again, and I parted my lips.

He leaned his head down.

I tipped my head up.

Slowly, so slowly it hurt, our lips brushed against each other. Tentative. Careful. Unsure.

He kissed me softly. Once. Twice.

And then everything unsure about us flew right out the little fort window.

Our mouths came together in a desperate collision, hungry. It was a tangle of tongues and exhales, greedy and shameless. Hot breath glided across my face and down my throat as our wet mouths tried to conquer each other.

Lightning flashed outside, touching down close enough to make the air crackle with energy and the fort walls shake.

He gripped my hips as my hands, still clutching the flag, slid over his shoulders and pulled me up toward the mouth I wanted so much more of. I whimpered desperately and I wasn’t even ashamed. This was Levi. This was everything right.

His hands slid up my body and held my face, his warm palms cupping the sides of my neck as his thumbs stroked the edge of my jaw and the curve of my cheeks.

He kissed me like he owned me. Like I was his, and his alone, to kiss. And I wanted to be.

I felt precious and sexy at the same time. His hands fell back to my hips, where he pressed his fingers into the exposed skin below my shirt. He was touching my skin; he was lighting me on fire.

We kissed and touched in the little fort to the sound of angry thunder and heavy rain; falling on the wooden planks of the meager roof; falling on the dirt outside. Drenching everything I ever thought I knew about myself. Changing me—changing us—forever. And it was beautiful.

But that was before everything went to hell.

* * *

It’s just cheesecake. It’s harmless.

Yet I’m staring at it like at any moment it might grow teeth and gnaw off my arms.

“Just wrap it up, honey, and put it in the fridge for tomorrow,” Mable says as she hangs up her apron for the night and finds her purse, completely oblivious to my current cheesecake phobia. “I’ll make the toppings in the morning.”

I nod.

Charity loved cheesecake.

“Good night, love.”

“Night,” I say halfheartedly as Mable exits through the dining room door. I hear a roll of distant thunder groan outside. Then nothing.

It’s suddenly very quiet in here, and I can’t help the memories that start whispering in the silence.

Last summer, Charity and I went to a party and got drunk. Wasted, actually. We always drank too much.

It was the day after my impromptu make-out session with Levi in the fort, and he and I hadn’t spoken since. I wasn’t sure how I felt about our kiss—or maybe I was and that was why I was getting trashed—but either way, I was anxious about Levi’s feelings for me and the alcohol was making me feel better.

Charity was drinking and having a grand ol’ time, until she walked in on Daren making out with another girl. They weren’t technically dating at the time, but still she freaked out and they got into a giant fight. Charity came to find me in my drunken stupor, hysterical, crying her eyes out about Daren as I listened with fierce sympathy.

Even though Daren was our designated driver that night, I was emphatic about getting Charity the hell out of that party. I insisted we drive ourselves home.

“To hell with him,” I’d said. “Let’s get out of this shithole!”

“Yeah!” Charity said. “I’m the soberest of the two of us. I’ll drive!”

We were stupid.

We climbed into Charity’s little car and she peeled out onto Canary Road with me as her passenger. We were eighteen and thought we were invincible, listening to loud music as we both ranted and cursed Daren’s name. Then, out of nowhere, Levi’s truck appeared in front of us, blocking the road beside the ridge burn.

Charity slowed down with a curse. “How does my brother always know where we are?” She made a face. “It’s like he has spies everywhere.”

“Your brother’s hot,” I said with a drunk giggle.

“Ew. That’s so gross.”

I sighed and slurred, “I want Leaves to like me.”

“God.” She rolled her eyes. “He does. Leaves loves you. Leaves leaves you. Loves leaves you? What am I trying to say?”

We giggled as we neared the truck.

Levi was standing in the middle of the road, looking like a pissed-off superhero with his messy dark hair and steel-blue eyes as he motioned for Charity to pull over. The hazard lights of his truck blinked into the night as he stood before us.

She pulled over and stopped the car as Levi parked his truck on the side of the road. Then he stormed over to her door.

Yanking it open, he said, “What the hell’s the matter with you, Charity? Driving drunk? Get your ass out of the car!”

She started bawling. “You don’t understand, Leaves. I caught Daren kissing Sierra Umbridge at the party and he’s such an asshole and I just had to get out of that party, so Pixie said we should just drive ourselves—”

“I don’t care!” He leaned in and turned off the ignition.

“Stop yelling at me!” Charity’s tears dried up with her anger.

He grabbed her face and looked at her sternly. “You scared the shit out of me.” His voice trembled as he looked into her eyes and released her chin. “Go get in my truck.”

“I’m really not that drunk—”

“Now,” he said, his voice getting all scary and low.

She shook her head. “No. I need my car in the morning for work and—”

“Fine.” He growled. “Get in the backseat and I’ll drive your car.”

She huffed and clambered out of the car, stumbling in her high heels as she walked to the back door.

He climbed into the driver’s seat and pierced me with his intense gaze, and I swear a piece of my heart broke with just that one look.

I tucked my lips in. “You seem mad.”

“I am mad.” He leaned over and made sure my seat belt was buckled before closing the door and putting on his own.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “This is all my fault. I told Charity we should drive home. I didn’t mean for you to have to drive out here and get us. I’m so sorry, Leaves. So, so sorry.”

He met my eyes with a desperate gaze, and that’s when I realized his anger was really just fear. Terrible and sad fear.

“Driving drunk is stupid.” He looked away. “You know better, Pix.”

A slow, hot tear rolled down my face. I did know better. I had disappointed him. I had scared him. I’d probably lost him forever too.

Charity climbed into the backseat and fumbled with her seat belt until it clicked into place. Levi pulled back onto the road, driving alongside the ridge burn as he yelled at us about how we should know better. And then…

I don’t know.

Lights. Horns. Whooshing sounds.

And everything went black.

When I regained consciousness, I was in a hospital bed with IVs strung from my limbs, machines beeping at me, and breathing tubes shoved down my throat. I had a nasty gash in my chest from a thick shard of glass that had torn through my body, and my lungs were collapsing.

I was barely alive.

Levi was unconscious a floor below me.

And Charity was dead.

My best friend was dead.

I try to push the memories away as I stare down at the cheesecake. The memories hurt. They hurt so much. But it’s no use.

They all come screaming back, cutting through me like that damn shard of glass until I’m lost and lonely and all flayed open under the dim kitchen lights.

And now I’m crying.

20 Levi

It’s my first game as starting quarterback at ASU. My parents are in the stands with Charity and Pixie, all of them cheering me on. The girls are both wearing jerseys with my name and number on the back, and Pixie has a sun devil painted on her face.

It’s the happiest I’ve ever been. My dreams are within reach, and everyone I care about is rooting for me. I can do this. I will do this.

“Go, Leaves!” Charity calls from the bleachers. I don’t know how I hear her, or how I know it’s Charity’s voice, but I just do. And I’m filled with pride—

I dart up in bed, gasping for air. A thin layer of sweat coats my chest as I try to calm myself. I stare across my dark room at the newly patched wall, my heart slamming against my rib cage, my lungs tight and hot.

I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to remember.

She was so proud…

The ache in my chest coils tighter and tighter until I can no longer stay in bed. I get up. I pace. I run my hands through my hair as I pad across the hardwood floor.

My window rattles with a bellow of thunder as a white fork of lightning strikes outside. The beige envelopes on my desk light up with the flash, daring me to ignore them a moment longer as my heart continues to pound.

Beige envelopes. Nightmares.

Relentless bastards, indeed.

I snatch an envelope up and tear it open, knowing full well what I’ll find inside. The letterhead crinkles as I slowly unfold it.

Dear Mr. Andrews,

I realize your personal life took a tragic turn last year and a slip in your studies is understandable. But as the dean of students here at Arizona State University, I have no choice but to suspend your enrollment until you are ready to return to school with a refreshed perspective. That being said, the terms of your academic probation are temporary and can be rectified by submitting a single essay to my office on the concept of winning.

The concept of winning is not solely reserved for athletics. It applies to all fields of pursuit and, in your case specifically, academic standing. I hope to see your essay on my desk by the end of this summer so Arizona State University may welcome you back, both to school and to the football field, this coming fall.

Sincerely,

Dean Maxwell

Another streak of lightning cuts across the black night and the clouds finally break, releasing the heavy downpour they’ve been holding back all summer. The storm falls to the earth, loud, dark, and wild, as I reread the letter.

Then I crumple it up and toss it in the trash.

The demons can go to hell.

* * *

Rain has been falling steady all night, and the morning drizzle doesn’t look as though it will be letting up anytime soon. My sleep was plagued with nightmares and truths, so I’m exhausted as I roll out of bed and quickly shower.

When I exit the bathroom, Pixie is standing there with her shower supplies and a blank expression on her face.

We haven’t spoken in days.

We silently move past each other without speaking, without touching.

After getting dressed, I hurry from the east wing and grab my To Do list from Ellen. The first item is a broken drawer behind the front desk.

Just as I reach the lobby, Haley bursts through the front door, her giant purse falling off her arm as she rounds the desk.

“I’m here, I’m here!” she announces to no one, completely out of breath.

Haley has punctuality problems.

Her orange shirt is dotted with dark spots of rain, and her shoes squeak against the wood floor as she rounds the desk. She throws her purse down with a heavy thud, water droplets running down the material in thin rivers, and tucks her thick black hair behind her ears.

“Hey, Levi!” She waves at me even though I’m only a foot away.

I step over her giant bag.

“Hey.” I start assessing the drawer damage as thunder cracks outside and vibrates the front windows.

“Ellen’s not here yet, is she?” She looks around nervously as she clicks on the computer and starts rummaging through things, trying to act like she’s been hard at work for an hour.

“She’s in her office,” I say.

Haley sighs in relief, picks her purse back up, and digs around inside until she comes up with a candy bar. “So… how have you been?”

“Fine.” I remove the drawer and study the broken track.

She takes a bite. “And… how’s the job going?”

“Fine.”

“And… how’s Pixie?”

I frown. “How would I know?”

She shrugs. “You live with her.”

“I don’t live with Pixie.”

“You live by her.”

“Which is not the same as living with her.” I kneel on the ground and start working on the broken track.

“So you don’t know how she is?”

“No.”

A moment passes where Haley takes another bite of her candy and watches me closely. “You know what I think?”

I sigh.

“I think Pixie’s sad,” she continues. “And not because of the whore thing.”

Damn gossip.

Haley says, “I think she’s sad because she misses you.”

I unscrew the broken track with more fervor than necessary. “Nah. I think it’s the whore thing.”

I can feel her eyes searing the back of my neck. “Would that make it easier for you?”

“Make what easier?”

“Missing her.”

I stare at the drawer, cursing small-town nosiness and the uncomfortable conversations it brings, and open my mouth to spew a well-crafted denial—when the fire alarm goes off.

Chaos ensues, and guests start spilling out of their rooms and into the lobby, flustered and excited. Dropping my tools, I rush to the system control box at the back of the lobby and throw open the panel door to see which room triggered the alarm. My heart stops.

The kitchen.

It’s all I can do not to knock guests over as I run that way. If anything happened to Pixie, if something exploded and hurt her, if she got burned—

Oh God. Oh God.

The screaming alarm drowns out all other noise as I skid around corners and through doorways. When I finally reach the kitchen, I see Pixie crouched on the floor with her back to me.

“Pixie!” I don’t think. I just swoop down and pull her into my arms, icy fear shooting through my veins as I turn her to face me.

She looks at me in confusion, covering her ears from the blaring alarm, and it takes a few moments for me to register that she’s not hurt. I look around. No fire. No smoke. She’s fine.

She’s breathing. She’s alive. She has a smudge of something white on her cheek, but otherwise she’s fine.

Her eyes fall to my chest and that’s when I realize I’m clutching her to my body, one hand cradling her head and the other pressed against her back.

She’s fine.

I slowly release her and we both stand. I rub a shaky hand over my mouth.

She must have seen the fear in my eyes because she starts explaining, raising her voice to be heard over the screeching of the fire alarm. “I heard the alarm go off and Mable and I started to leave out the back door, but I forgot to turn off the gas, so I came back in and then I knocked the powdered sugar all over the floor—”

“Pixie!” Mable gives a panicked wave from the back door. “Come outside.”

Outside, I see guests and employees congregating under the gazebo at the back of the field, rain falling steadily on the lavender flowers surrounding them.

Pixie looks at me for a second before moving toward Mable. Once she’s out of the kitchen, my heart starts beating again and I hurry back to the lobby. Ellen is guiding people out of their rooms and to the back doors as Angelo leads everyone to the gazebo.

“Where’s the fire?” Ellen yells over the blaring lobby.

I shake my head. “There isn’t one!”

“What?” She can’t hear me over the alarm and the rushing guests.

I run back to the control panel and disengage the alarm, throwing the inn into silence. As the last of the guests hurry out the back door, I start running around the west wing just in case, looking in every room, sniffing the air. Nothing. I search the dining room, the bathrooms, but there’s no fire anywhere.

As I make my way back to the lobby, I slowly start to relax. There’s no danger. Pixie’s fine.

“What happened?” Ellen asks, standing by the front desk, looking incredibly stressed.

“Something must have tripped the kitchen alarm,” I say. “It was probably the rain seeping into the old wiring system.”

“No fire?” Pixie, who clearly didn’t follow Mable’s orders and join everyone under the gazebo, comes up to Ellen with a concerned look.

“No fire,” Ellen confirms.

My eyes catch on Pixie’s, and we stare at each other. Powdered sugar is still on her cheek. Why is my heart pounding?

“Charity’s on the phone.”

We whip our heads to Haley, who is holding a phone out to Ellen.

“Charity from the alarm company,” Haley quickly clarifies, looking at us apologetically.

“Oh.” Ellen takes the phone and walks away as she answers.

“Good grief, woman! Answering the phones?” Angelo shouts at Haley from the back door. “What, are you trying to give me a heart attack? Get your cute butt out here, where I know you’re safe.”

“I’m coming. Geez.” She hurries toward the door. “I had to get the phone, Ang. It was Charity from the alarm company…” Their voices disappear as the back door closes.

And then it’s just Pixie and me, standing in the lobby, thinking about Charity and not making eye contact.

I should say something she needs to hear.

Something like, I’m sorry I killed your best friend.

Or, I’m sorry I almost got you killed.

Or better yet, I’m sorry I intervened with fate and fucked everything up.

But I say nothing. I realize my guilt isn’t entirely rational, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling it.

Pixie looks at me with unreadable eyes and swallows. “I’m glad you’re okay. When I first heard the alarm go off—” She presses her lips together. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

And for the second time today, my heart stops.

“Pix, I… if anything ever…” Am I brave enough to say something real here? Something honest? “I’m glad you’re okay too,” I say, because I’m chickenshit.

She nods, and we stand in silence.

I shift my weight. “About the other day—”

“It’s fine.” She waves me off.

“No, it’s not.” I shake my head. “It’s not fine. I shouldn’t have called you a whore. I’m an ass and I’m sorry. I really am.”

She shrugs. “Let’s just pretend it didn’t happen.”

I slowly nod. Sure. That’s what we’re good at: pretending things didn’t happen.