Sidetracked: Part 1 Read online

  “It’s fine,” I say, genuinely invested. “It must be rough if your parents are gone a lot.”

  I get it, though. My parents bounced as soon as Rose suggested we get an apartment together.

  Night shrugs, but she glances away. “It can be difficult, but their overseas work is important. They’re supervising relief efforts in the Middle East right now—though I’m not sure when they’ll be back. November or December at the latest, I hope.”

  “This is an especially long trip,” Ice says, seemingly bored. “They rarely leave for more than a few months at a time.”

  “What does their company do?”

  “Alternative energy.”

  “Green energy,” she clarifies. “Ocean turbines, solar panels, and the like. We fund research and development for sustainable technology like saltwater filtration systems and biodegradable plastics too.”

  How cool!

  “And you both work there?”

  “Not exactly,” she says with a laugh. “If anything, I act as a figurehead of sorts while they’re away. I have the Monroe name, and other companies like to have at least one of us present for major negotiations, so I go wherever they need me. Most times, though, I just smile and nod while my dad’s assistant does the talking.”

  I turn to Ice, and he sighs. “I’m not interested in corporate matters, but I help out where I can. When I have time.”

  Night tips a cutting board full of chopped vegetables over a sizzling frying pan. She’s making stir-fry. It smells dreamy—like ginger and soy sauce.

  “What do you do for fun?” she asks.

  “Uh—” I don’t do much of anything. “I’ve been so busy with school, you know? I took eighteen credits last term. I was lucky if I managed to get out and take a walk a few times a week.”

  This piques her interest. “You like nature, then?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “Not as much as you do, I’m sure,” Ice says with a dry laugh.

  We both ignore him, and she asks if I live near Windsor Park Natural Area.

  I answer, but she already knew. No matter how much I want to believe otherwise—especially now that we’ve properly met, and I want to like her—I know we didn’t run into each other on the trail by chance. I think she only asked to be polite.

  “Is it almost done?” Ice asks.

  He doesn’t want to talk about it either?

  “Yes. Almost done.” She looks over the kitchen—the steaming skillet, the rice cooker on the corner counter, me and Ice at the dining table. Then she sighs and retrieves a phone from her pocket. “I’ll call Smoke in.”

  “Perfect,” Ice says with an easy laugh.

  She shifts her weight as she types, narrowed eyes trained on the screen. Wait... She texts Smoke to call him to dinner? They’re in the same house! Once finished, she puts her phone away, washes her hands, and continues cooking.

  Several seconds pass. The music on the other side of the house falls silent, and Smoke walks out into the great room.

  With a crooked smile and raised eyebrows, he holds up his phone. “You called?”

  Ice stifles a laugh. Smoke glances at me and snickers before sitting at the end of the glass table. Night sighs again.

  “Dinner’s just about ready,” she says, pouring the contents of the skillet into a wide bowl.

  While she finishes getting everything together, Smoke props his elbows on the table and watches me with a passive curiosity. He doesn’t say anything, and neither does anyone else, so I speak up.

  “So, what do you do?” I ask.

  He smiles. “I vlog. And play video games.”

  “Vlog? Like YouTube?”

  He nods, and I ask what his channel is about.

  “Video games. And trans stuff. Whatever I want, basically.” He shrugs. “I hit two hundred thousand subs a few weeks back.”

  “Oh, wow!” And he makes it sound like that’s nothing.

  Night sets a few serving bowls on the table. We’re definitely having some kind of Asian-inspired meal. Shredded cabbage salad with almonds and mandarin orange slices. Fluffy, white steamed rice. Stir-fried chicken and vegetables that smell strongly of a sweet and spicy sauce.

  I didn’t eat much for lunch, so I’m hungrier than I thought.

  “You go to RCC, right?” Smoke asks, sitting up straight. “Now that I think about it, I feel like I’ve seen you before.”

  “Right?” Night exclaims. “We have, haven’t we?”

  He looks between the two of us. “Yeah, I think we have.”

  “Small world, I suppose,” Ice says, frowning softly as he glances at the glass tabletop.

  “It’s not a big school,” I reason. “I hang out in the library or student center with Rose all the time in between classes.”

  Night sets the table with porcelain plates, polished silverware, and embroidered cloth napkins. The plates are a matching set—not exactly fine china, but the intricate, floral border appears to be hand-painted. They’re nice. Like the crystal water glasses.

  “Rose?” she asks. “I may have taken a speech class with her. During winter term, I believe.”

  I laugh, not surprised she would remember Rose. “She’s my best friend. You probably saw me while I was with her.”

  “I’m sure that’s it.” She joins us at the table and looks at each of us, smiling warmly. “Please, enjoy the meal.”

  The awkwardness lifted after we dished out our food and got to eating, and dinner with the Monroes went wonderfully. The food was delicious—Night is an amazing cook. Ice relaxed. Smoke was surprisingly talkative. I felt good. It was fun. Almost makes me not want to go home to my empty, quiet house.

  But I obviously can’t stay.

  Smoke was quick to return to his bedroom as Night cleared the table after dinner, so only Ice, Night, and I remain in the great room. He helps his sister in the kitchen while I examine a row of framed family photos near the front door.

  The Monroe patriarch, August, is a tall, white man with a strong jaw and dark hair. His wife, Sarai, and the twins appear to be of Southeast Asian descent with straight, black hair, tawny skin, and delicate features. Ice is tall like August, but he’s as white as they come and has wavy, blonde hair.

  Is he a child from a previous relationship like Robbie?

  I don’t want to make assumptions, but he does not resemble the rest of his family in any way but one, as all five share the same bright blue eyes.

  I’m probably overthinking it. Lots of people have blue eyes.

  “Ready to go?” Ice asks.

  My face warms—certainly my subconscious calling me out for being nosy—and I turn away from the photos. Ice shrugs into a leather jacket as though it isn’t nearly one hundred degrees outside.

  “Leaving already?” Night asks, drying her hands on her apron as she joins us near the door.

  Ice gives her a look. “It’s after seven.”

  “Is that late?” But she shrugs and offers me a smile. “Well, it was fun, Jayde. I haven’t had the chance to entertain new guests in some time, so thanks for indulging me.”

  “Oh, no; thank you! You’re a wonderful host,” I say, sounding more animated than intended.

  She grins, turning to Ice. “And thank you for bringing her by.”

  “Of course,” he says mildly.

  After another moment of small talk, Night must have run out of ways to stall my departure because she finally says, “Have a good night, Jayde. You’re welcome back any time.”

  She returns to the couch and her book, and Ice shuffles us out of the great room and into the hallway. We don’t speak again until we leave through the door we first came in.

  “She has a tendency to be overbearing,” he says. “You weren’t uncomfortable, I hope.”

  “Uncomfortable? No—” I’m not sure that drawn-out “no” was convincing. I clear my throat and laugh. “Your family dynamic is a little...different, I guess—”

  “Different?” he echoes with a short laugh.<
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  “I don’t mean anything by it,” I insist, waving my free hand about. “I had a good time. Honestly.”

  “That’s a relief,” he says, his tone lighthearted but rather dry.

  The silver car’s doors click as they unlock. Ice opens the passenger door for me, and I climb in.

  Staring at my purse in my lap, I wonder—

  Well, I’m even more curious about the Monroe family than I was before. About the decor in their house. The parents’ company. Their blue eyes. The terse glances Night and Ice shared before dinner. Maybe it was a little uncomfortable at times, but only because it felt familiar.

  That’s why I won’t ask. We still know next to nothing about each other, so...

  “Thanks for inviting me,” I say.

  He smiles. “My pleasure.”

  As we chat during the slow drive through the neighborhood, I watch the gorgeous houses, this time trying to imagine how luxurious they must be on the inside if they’re larger and grander than the Monroe’s. Short, green grass. Expensive cars. Exotic trees. Charming lawn ornaments.

  Does Ice know many of his neighbors? Does Westbrooke hold community barbecues like upper-class neighborhoods on television sitcoms? Will I ever have the chance to attend an event like that? Assuming they exist.

  We leave through the electronic gate. Ice stops talking as he focuses on the busier roads in town, and the world outside returns to the mundane, so I check my phone.

  It’s after 7:30PM. I have a few texts from Rose, but I’ll talk to her when I get home. I need to reflect. To brag and...decompress?

  Today was different. Good. But stranger than expected.

  How much do I want to tell her? I still have a hard time believing this isn’t some elaborate prank—that Ice actually wants to hang out with me. Or date me. Or whatever this is.

  Do I care at this point?

  The car pulls into the parking lot.

  Oakwood Cottages is a nice place—more than I could afford without Rose and my dad’s help. Cottage clusters are novel and cool in theory, but each “cottage” is essentially a detached townhouse in a bare-bones complex. No dishwasher. No gym. No pool. The only permanent outdoor decorations we’re allowed to have are potted plants, but the buildings are modern with central cooling and heating, and there’s a card-operated laundromat on site, I guess.

  Why am I complaining about this now? I seriously loved Oakwood more than my childhood home this morning.

  “Here you are,” Ice says as he parks outside my cottage.

  To my surprise, he steps out too, leaving his car idling in the parking space. He walks with me up the short concrete steps, onto the small landing, and to the front door.

  My heart decides now is a good time to make itself known within my chest—or try to escape it; I can’t be sure.

  Why am I suddenly so nervous?

  He must be so hot in that black leather jacket. Uncomfortable hot—not hot hot. Not that he’s not hot—

  What? Why am I like this?

  I force eye contact. “Thanks for the ride. And everything.”

  “Again, Jayde, it’s no real inconvenience,” he says, cracking a humored smile. “After all, a short drive through town is nothing for someone in my position.”

  Reminded of my earlier “affluent” comment, I fail to choke back a laugh. It miraculously eases my nerves, even if it is embarrassing.

  His expression softens. “I have to ask, though: What do you think of my family?”

  A lot runs through my mind. Too much to verbalize.

  “They seem cooler than mine,” is what I say.

  “How is yours?” he asks.

  “My family?” I echo, ignoring the pit in my stomach.

  “You mentioned growing up in Riverview, but you’ve said very little about them. I’m simply curious.”

  “Oh, um—”

  Do I have to answer?

  He introduced me to his family despite the unfortunate manner in which I first met Night, and I witnessed the weird tension between them firsthand. I don’t understand it, but I experienced it. Sure, I can’t introduce him to my family, and I wouldn’t want to even if I could—with the exception of Robbie...maybe—but would it be unfair to not say anything?

  Because there is a lot I could say.

  My dad helps pay my rent because he feels guilty for leaving. My mom ignored my phone call last Christmas. Robbie left home as soon as he turned 18. My parents’ choice to “keep it together for the kids” did more harm than good. The damage was already done by the time they finally wizened up and got a divorce, and they both decided to move “closer to family” after I’d already enrolled at RCC, so I was left in Riverview alone.

  I don’t need to explain any of that, do I?

  Nope.

  “My brother moved to L.A. for college a couple years ago,” I say. “And my parents are...fine. Family problems called them both out of town last year, so...”

  “You have no family in Riverview?” he asks. He doesn’t sound surprised, exactly, but it also doesn’t seem like he was expecting it.

  “Nope.” I force a smile. “It’s just me now. Well, me and Rose, I guess. But it’s fine. She’s like family too. I don’t miss the drama, anyway.”

  “You’re not close with them?”

  I shake my head, my smile faltering. “Not exactly. But it’s—”

  “—fine, right?” He chuckles. “I see. I’m well aware how complicated family matters can be.”

  I let out my breath. After what I saw today, I’m not surprised he can relate in some way.

  “Yeah, it’s not always easy,” I mutter, dropping the act.

  “I understand.”

  Does he?

  I don’t say anything. I just search his eyes—for what, I don’t know—and he watches me, also quiet.

  What is he thinking? Why is he still here, standing on my porch? Why hasn’t he said goodnight and walked back to his car?

  Why am I still standing here? Why haven’t I gone inside? Should I say something? Do something? Invite him in? Stop staring at his mouth?

  Why is this so awkward?

  Why do I wish he’d hold my hand?

  Or hug me?

  Or kiss me?

  Or something?

  Oh, no...

  As I reaffirm eye contact, his soft smile falters for an instant, and he averts his gaze. He laughs, runs a hand through his hair, and tucks both hands into his jacket pockets. When he meets my eyes again, his expression is muted but still kind.

  Oh.

  “Thanks for coming, Jayde,” he says. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”

  He dips his head and turns to leave.

  I don’t move. I watch him walk down the steps, and I wave when he glances back before he gets into his car. The engine purrs as the car backs out of the parking space. Then I tear my eyes away, dig through my purse, and stare at the front door.

  The tiny peephole watches me. Judging me.

  Wow.

  I don’t know what the heck I was expecting to happen, but I’m honestly disappointed that he didn’t kiss me.

  Yikes.

  I take a deep breath and head inside.

  Leaving my purse on the bookcase, I drift to the couch and fall upon it. I hide my face in my hands, my chest still in turmoil, my stomach still holding onto a small, heavy pit.

  I told Rose I’d call when I got home, but I don’t know what I’d say. I know I’m awkward, but I didn’t think Ice had an awkward bone in his body. I was convinced he could play off just about anything. Be cool in any situation. But interacting with his siblings threw him off, and then standing on my porch...

  That was the worst.

  It’s not his fault. Surely, he didn’t realize asking about my family would kill the mood. For most people, it wouldn’t. Maybe it’s weird for a nineteen-year-old girl to be estranged from her parents?

  Ugh... Here’s to hoping he never asks about them again.


  I drag myself off the couch and head upstairs. I need to wash my face. I should take a shower too—maybe in the morning?

  Maybe I should call Rose now.

  I wasn’t expecting to stay for dinner, so I was out longer than planned. I’d better get it over with before she gets worried.

  With a sigh, I set my phone on the shelf above the bathroom sink, start the call, and turn speakerphone on. The phone rings while I hunt for a bottle of makeup remover.

  Click. “Hey, girl! It’s getting late. You home?”

  Her voice echoes loudly in the small bathroom.

  “Yeah, I’m home,” I say.

  “How’d it go? Did you have fun?”

  “Um, yeah. I stayed for dinner. It wasn’t the original plan, but it was nice.”

  “Dinner?” she asks. “Did he cook for you?”

  “No,” I say, focused on not jabbing myself in the eye with a cotton pad.

  “Did you get takeout? Pizza? I would kill for pizza right now.”

  “No. His sister cooked. She’s the one who invited me to stay in the first place.”

  “Oh.” She almost sounds disappointed, but she soon laughs. “You met his family, though? Does he have any hot brothers? Maybe you can hook me up when I get home.”

  “Rose, no!” I very nearly jab myself in the eye with a cotton pad, but I laugh. “He has a brother, but I’m pretty sure he’s gay.”

  Smoke mentioned a boyfriend rather casually during dinner, but I didn’t ask, so I can only assume he meant a boyfriend boyfriend. Either way, he is not Rose’s tall, athletic, blond type.

  “Dang,” she says, still cackling.

  I ignore her. “You might know Ice’s sister, actually. She goes to RCC.”

  “Oh? I know a lot of people at RCC. What’s her name?”

  “Night Monroe.”

  “Ah...” She mutters under her breath, but I can’t make the words out over the phone. “We might have had a class together. Fall term? Winter term, maybe? Not sure, sorry.”