Sidetracked: Part 1 Read online

  “In what way?” I ask.

  I’m not curious at all. I do not care what his name is or how well it suits him or why he thinks it does. His voice is smooth and sweet, drawing me in despite the mundane topic. I just want him to keep talking.

  “Something about my eyes.” His tone is mild until he clears his throat. “In any case, now that you know who I am, who might you be?”

  I blink up at him—at this beautiful man who has no business speaking with me—and faint memories of elementary school lectures on stranger danger come to mind. Grainy video clips of older men smiling and acting friendly to lure naive children away from the safety of the playground. But I am not in elementary school, nor am I a naive child with no knowledge of the world and its dangers.

  I am an adult person. I can make my own decisions. And Ice strikes me as normal and safe.

  Unnaturally hot, sure, but totally normal and safe.

  Besides, Rose would kill me if she found out I gave up the chance to talk to a guy like this. I’m usually the cautious type. The nervous type. The type to chicken out and run away rather than risk an awkward encounter, but she told me that overthinking things only makes matters worse. She says I need to ease up. Relax. Dive in and take initiative.

  Now is as good a time as any to take her advice seriously.

  What’s the worst that can happen?

  I tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear and feign confidence. “My name is Jayde.”

  “Jayde,” he echoes. “A lovely name. Like the gemstone?”

  He smiles, and the unexpected compliment gives me a rush of real confidence.

  Unfortunately, I do not know what to do with confidence.

  I just start talking. I thank him and ramble on about my eyes being green and how my name is like the gemstone, only spelled with a Y before the D. It’s stupid, pointless information, and I’m only making myself out to be more awkward by saying it, but I can’t stop.

  “People get it wrong all the time,” I say, “so it’s kind of annoying having it spelled differently, you know?”

  My brain does me a favor by losing its train of thought there. I’m smiling, and he doesn’t appear particularly fazed by my babbling, but anxiety flutters in my chest as I stare into his patient blue eyes.

  “Understandable,” he agrees. “I’m sure you can imagine the reactions some have when they first hear my name.”

  Ha... Like my reaction?

  I avert my eyes.

  “I’m curious,” he says. “How old are you?”

  “Me?”

  I laugh, trying to calm my nerves as our eyes meet again. The question is innocent enough—he probably wants to make sure I’m not sixteen or whatever—but, of course, he had to ask.

  “Believe it or not, it’s my birthday tomorrow. I’ll be turning nineteen.”

  His smile hitches up on one side. “What are the odds? Well, happy birthday, I suppose.”

  Ugh...

  I suck it up and thank him.

  He tells me he’s twenty-two. His birthday was in April.

  That’s younger than I thought, but he’s still a few years older than me. It’s not weird for a nineteen-year-old to talk to a twenty-two-year-old, is it? For god’s sake, Jayde... You talk to people that age all the time at RCC. What exactly are you expecting to get out of this conversation?

  Ugh.

  Ice slips a phone from his back pocket. My heart jumps into my throat. Is he losing interest? What should I do? I panic and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind:

  “So, what are you doing here today?”

  His eyes, still focused on his phone screen, grow wide. Then he looks up in a slow, deliberate fashion. As our eyes meet, his smile stretches, crinkling the corners of his eyes like I said something especially funny.

  “I’m shopping,” he says. “What are you doing here?”

  Oh my god.

  My shoulders tense. I tear my eyes from his face to stare at my hands. Did I seriously ask what he was doing in a grocery store? I am holding a shopping basket myself. It’s been right there—the handle in the crook of my left arm—this entire time.

  Well, I guess that makes two horrifically embarrassing things I’ve done in front of the hottest guy I’ve ever met. Could today get any worse?

  He laughs it off. “Actually, I was hoping I could get your phone number.”

  Haha... Seems I spoke too soon.

  There’s no point in trying to hide what a mess I am. For now, all I can do is avoid eye contact and hope for the best.

  “Oh. Sure,” I mumble.

  He’s messing with me. He can’t be serious.

  I try to get a read on him out of the corner of my eye. To my surprise, both his thoughtful expression and casual posture as he fiddles with his phone seem sincere enough. He types something out—my name, I assume—and looks up with a half-smile.

  “What’s the number?”

  Well, I guess this is happening.

  I manage to recite my phone number without mixing up the digits. He repeats it aloud, and I nod to confirm he has it right.

  “Thanks.” He flashes a brilliant smile. “Perhaps I’ll call you sometime.”

  “Oh, ah—” A shiver runs up my spine, and I go off again. “You can call whenever you like. You can text too—but you don’t have to, you know? I’m pretty busy with finals and everything. So it’s cool either way.”

  I am an idiot. A deer in the headlights. If Ice were an oncoming car, I would be roadkill. At least the store isn’t crowded. I’d hate for anyone else to be subjected to this train wreck.

  Could I have left a worse first impression?

  But he chuckles, still not bothered. And I finally shut up.

  “I’ll see you around,” he says.

  I blink. “Okay. See you.”

  He dips his head and turns to leave. I muster what little courage remains within me and call after him to thank him once again for the help.

  “Anytime, Jayde,” he says. “Enjoy your cookies.”

  He doesn’t pause or glance over his shoulder, but he does raise a hand to wave casually as he continues down the aisle. I watch his back until he turns a corner and disappears from view.

  My grip tightens on the handle of the shopping basket, and my eyes wander down, landing on the brightly colored package of M&M cookies on top.

  Ice Monroe, huh?

  HELPING ME WAS A NICE gesture and all, but I don’t understand why he didn’t just accept my thanks and move on with his day. Why stick around to talk for so long? Why ask for my number? I was so hopelessly awkward, but he didn’t acknowledge it once.

  What if he only stopped to talk because he felt sorry for me? I don’t want anyone’s pity—let alone pity from someone like that. Or maybe he was teasing me. Maybe he asked for my phone number, so he can prank me tomorrow.

  Oh, no...

  I hope he doesn’t call—on my birthday or any other day. After all, if he does, and it’s not a prank, how would I ever make up for how weird I acted earlier?

  I pat my cheeks. They’re still warm to the touch, and I’ve been safe at home for over an hour.

  Rose will be back soon.

  I almost don’t want to tell her, but, on the off chance he does call and isn’t trolling me, she will never believe we met at the grocery store if I don’t mention it now. Maybe I just won’t give her his name. Ice is easily the fakest sounding name I’ve ever heard.

  I stop pacing to pull the blinds over the window aside. Rose’s parking space is still empty. The sidewalk is empty. The white cat wasn’t around when I got home either.

  Was it a good omen or not?

  Do I even believe in anything like omens or fate? If I did, I’d have to accept that I’m cursed, so...

  It’s probably better if I don’t.

  When Rose returns, she immediately groans and flops onto the couch. It’s quite dramatic, but she does look drained as she gazes up at the ceiling with narrowed eyes. I guess she actually studied.
r />   “I have the worst memory when it comes to anatomy,” she says. “There are too many things stuffed inside the human body.”

  I offer to go over flashcards with her later. She accepts with a begrudging sigh and asks if I want help studying for any of my finals, but I’m fine. I only have three in-class exams this term, and I’ve studied more than enough already. I’m not worried.

  She sighs and flips her ponytail over one shoulder. “Anyway, how was your afternoon?”

  My heart skips a beat.

  “Oh. Uh. I went shopping.”

  “What’d you buy?” she asks, her curiosity calling her into the kitchen.

  “Not much. Snacks, mostly. And more milk.”

  She spots the open package of M&M cookies on the counter. I stress-ate a few when I got home and forgot to put them away. Apparently.

  “Nice,” she says, helping herself to a cookie.

  “And I met a guy.”

  She turns, the cookie sticking out of her mouth as she judges me. Eyes wide. Skeptical. Surprised. Impressed. Then she removes the cookie, a bite missing, and smirks.

  “A guy?” she echoes. “Do tell.”

  I briefly summarize the encounter from excuse me to reciting my phone number with intentional vagueness. Then I describe his appearance. His blue eyes and perfect smile. But I underplay how goddamn tense and weird I was, and I do not mention his name.

  “And you’re sure you weren’t hallucinating?” she asks, one eyebrow raised.

  I laugh. “He was real, but I don’t know what to think. I have this weird feeling he was teasing me or something. He just smiled whenever I said something stupid, and I said a lot of stupid things, so...”

  “Hm... How tall would you say he was?”

  I hold my hand a ways above my head. He was nearly a foot taller than me, so at least six feet.

  She blinks before grinning, the expression playful but ruthless. “Well, Jayde, if he does call, and you aren’t interested, feel free to give him my number.”

  I never said I wasn’t interested!

  But I don’t argue. She’s only teasing, trying to reassure me in her own way.

  “Really? Normally you’d be dying to set me up with him.”

  She nods. “I mean, it is sad that I’m your only real friend. So, of course, I fully support your pursuit of hot grocery store man.”

  “Hot grocery store man?” I ask, fighting laughter.

  “You didn’t catch his name, right? So that’s his name now.” She drapes herself over the arm of the couch and presses the back of her hand to her forehead. “Dear Hot Grocery Store Man, why didn’t you give Jayde your phone number, so I could hook you up myself?”

  I toss a throw blanket over her head. “I don’t need a boyfriend. Is it so wrong that I want to relax this summer?”

  She flails around until she ends up on the other side of the couch and pops out from underneath the thin blanket.

  “You worked so hard this year,” she reasons, though her frown is fake. “You can date and still relax—hell, it might even help. But don’t forget I’m leaving on Friday. My family reunion is on the Fourth, and I want to help Sara as much as I can, so I’m not exactly sure when I’ll come back.”

  “I know. We’ve gone over it a million times already.”

  “What will you do if he does call?” she asks.

  “Answer the phone.”

  “Ugh!” She drags her hands down her face. “I mean, would you go out with him if he asked?”

  I sigh. “Rose. I asked him why he was at the grocery store. He may have asked for my number, but he is not going to call me.”

  A slow, incredulous smile splits her face. Then she drops her head into her hands like she’s about to weep. Her shoulders shake. Stifled laughter escapes her throat.

  “Oh my god,” she wheezes. “That is so adorably stupid, Jayde. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”

  three

  FINALS ARE OVER.

  I step out of the car, and I’m home, and I’m free. Rose walks ahead with a skip in her step. She tosses her purse over the back of the couch as I follow her inside, leaving the door open.

  Turning, she smiles and clasps her hands together. “So, how’s it feel to be done with your first year of college?”

  “It’s community college, Rose. We’re not going to Stanford or anything.”

  She laughs. “Not everyone is as dedicated as you. School is a real challenge for some of us, you know?”

  “Oh? How did you do on your anatomy final?”

  “Fine,” she says pointedly. “Glad it’s over.”

  I sigh. “What will I do with myself while you’re gone?”

  “Let’s see...” She feigns thoughtfulness, pursing her lips as she takes a few slow, backward steps toward her bedroom door. Then she stops, snaps her fingers, and flashes an impish grin. “Oh, I know! Maybe that guy will finally call.”

  “What?” I ask in alarm.

  She’s made no mention of Ice—or Hot Grocery Store Man, I guess—since my birthday. Of course, he hasn’t called, though. My mother didn’t even call on my birthday, and I’m still a little upset. About both things.

  “Hey, you never know,” she says. “Maybe you could get a boyfriend to keep you company.”

  Ugh...

  She laughs at whatever face I pulled, and I close the front door—slamming it by accident. Ice is a lost cause. Assuming Ice is his real name.

  “I don’t need a boyfriend. I’m fine.”

  “Whatever you say, Jay. Don’t forget—anything is possible.”

  I laugh. I don’t know why.

  She grins again and shuts herself into her room.

  My bag’s strap slips a few inches down my arm. I fix it with a sigh and head upstairs to my bedroom. I drop my backpack just inside. Then I sit on the edge of my bed and look around.

  The calendar on the door. The collage of photos framing the mirror behind my dresser. An open textbook on my desk. The blue sky visible through the partially drawn blinds.

  It’s quiet.

  I don’t have homework or anything to study, so I’m not sure what to do. Summer vacation is already throwing off my routine. No class. No assignments. No best friend for half of it.

  Oh, Rose...

  She knows I wanted him to call, but she also knows I haven’t seriously dated since high school. A summer fling sounds sweet and fun in theory, but I’ve never understood her obsession with dating—casual or otherwise.

  My current relationship status shouldn’t matter to her, anyway.

  She’s leaving tomorrow. She’ll be in Arizona with her family, so she won’t be around to hook me up with anyone, and there’s only so much she can do over the phone.

  Two months is a long time, though.

  I’ve never lived alone. It’s only temporary, and I know it’ll be fine, but the concept is rather daunting. It sounds a little lonely. A little quiet. And I’ll have to take care of everything on my own.

  Oh, the responsibility!

  It’s kind of funny, but thinking of Rose’s family reminds me of my family, and... The birthday cards, and... I fall back onto my bed and stare at the white, plaster ceiling.

  Part of me wants to accept her offer to tag along and spend the summer in Arizona, but I meant what I said. Someone has to stay and look after the house. Besides, it’s been far too long since I’ve had time to myself to relax without the stress of a busy college term and everything that comes with it.

  I’m not like Rose.

  She’s a textbook extrovert, always on the go, flitting from one group of friends to the next without losing momentum. She loves people and parties. She’s social and upbeat, like a light that brightens everyone around her.

  I like people, and I like spending time with people too, but not that much. It’s hard to believe she was shy and soft-spoken in middle school. Unlike her, I never grew out of that awkward stage. Social interaction is still trying, and I don’t understand the appeal of parties, alcohol, or
hook-up culture.

  She has fun, though. I guess that’s all that matters.

  I look up from my phone—I’m not sure when it ended up in my hand. My gaze lands on a weird spackling of plaster on the ceiling that vaguely resembles a face with googly eyes.

  How have I never noticed that before?

  Glancing away, I roll onto my stomach.

  I’m tempted to try looking Ice up again despite my previous lack of luck, but I scroll down my FaceSpace newsfeed instead. I don’t pay much attention to the names, but it seems like every other post is either a meme or something about summer break. The FaceSpace crowd seems to have it all figured out, but what should I do?

  I’m stuck at the unfortunate age where I’m too old for the usual teen hangouts but still too young to visit real clubs or attend many of the local summer events. I can’t drive, I don’t have a lot of money, and most of my friends—or Rose’s friends—are either traveling or working over the summer. I’d rather not hang out with them without Rose as a buffer, anyway.

  There’s always Music@ThePark. If I go, it’ll get me out of the house once a week, but it doesn’t start until the end of the month.

  Hm... I could look for a summer job. Is CoffeeStar hiring?

  I open the internet browser, but a series of knocks interrupt my search before it begins. I sit up to address the violation of privacy as the culprit opens the door.

  Rose stands in the doorway, one hand on the doorjamb and the other on her hip. “What’s up with that sad look? I haven’t left yet.”

  “Oh? No, I’m fine.”

  She reacts with exaggerated skepticism, frowning and quirking an eyebrow.

  I laugh. “When are you leaving, again?”

  “Like nine in the morning?” She shrugs, and then grins, leaning further into my room. “Anyway, I was thinking we should order pizza and have a sleepover downstairs.”

  “That’s kind of weird, but okay.”

  Her arms fall to her sides, and she steps back, her expression mellowing. “I’ll be gone for a while, you know? I thought it’d be fun to spend some time together before I go—just you and me. Like old times.”

  “No, it does sound fun. I’ll find something to watch if you order pizza.”