In Plain Sight (17 page)

Emma’s hand slips from my grip as I stand up. She turns, following my gaze to the unexpected visitor who just appeared on the patio.

“Is that Colby?” she says. Before I answer, she breaks into a smile and waves at him, her chubby hand wobbling back and forth.

“Yes,” I say, but my heart is pounding so hard I can’t really hear myself talk. “I’ll be right back,” I tell her.

“Can I come, too?” she asks. I stop, turning and bending down to her eye level.

“Let me talk to him first, okay? And then maybe you can come talk to him in a little bit.”

She looks past me at Colby, considering it for a second. “Okay.”

I smile and give her a little hug. To anyone else, I look like I’m comforting a kid, but in reality, I’m comforting myself. Too bad her tiny little hug doesn’t help much. The pain in my chest is far too big to be bandaged by a five-year-old.

I swallow the lump in my throat, take a deep breath, and walk to Colby. On the dance floor behind me, my mom and Landon are wrapped in each other, swaying to the music. My aunt and uncle are dancing a few feet away, and our friends and relatives are all absorbed in their own lives, oblivious that I might be walking straight toward my doom.

At least he’s dressed well, if this is the last time I’ll ever talk to him.

I stop just a few feet in front of him. We’re standing under the covered part of our large backyard patio. There’s a string of clear lights hanging overhead, the dip in the strand hovering just a couple inches above Colby’s head.

I open my mouth to say something lame like
hey
or
hi
, but nothing comes out.

“Can we go somewhere to talk?” Colby asks. He adjusts the lapel of his jacket. “Just for a second.”

“If it’s only a second, why can’t you say it here?” I ask. Ugh, I’m not trying to be difficult, but, well I don’t know what I’m being. This is hard. It hurts looking at him, especially when he looks so remarkably sexy in that suit.

“Please, Maddie?”

Hearing him say my name makes me weak in the knees. I let out a breath and start walking toward the house. “Come on,” I say, not looking back to make sure he’s following.

We slip inside, past the kitchen, which is busy with half a dozen caterers mulling around. I could take him to my room, but that’s too intimate for a final breakup talk, so instead I turn right and slip into the laundry room. It’s as big as our old living room used to be, so there’s plenty of room to talk.

Colby brushes by me, smelling like clean boy with the smallest scent of peppermint. I clench my jaw and close the door, locking it.

Then I turn around. “What is it, Colby?” I toss my hands up in the universal gesture for defeat. “There’s nothing you can say that will make me feel worse, okay? I swear, I’ve suffered enough for what I did to you.”

“I’m not here to berate you, Maddie.”

Colby’s fingers twist together, his shoulders slumped, long hair starting to fall apart in pieces that he’d brushed back. “Then what is it?” I say, taking a step backward. My hands touch the washing machine, and I hold onto it for support. Being this close to him makes me want to collapse and cry. Even in my daydreams, he wasn’t this handsome. God, why did he have to wear a suit that looks so hot on him? Why can’t he just go away and let me be miserable by myself?

“Mindy told me everything you told her,” he says, stepping forward. My feet shuffle back, but there’s nowhere to go, the cold metal of the washing machine door pressing against my calves.

“I understand why you did it,” he says, his eyes burning a hole into me even though I’m staring at the floor, at the little blue chevron patterns in the rug beneath our feet.

I don’t say anything. How can I? I lied to him about who I am, who I was. And the worst part? I would have let it go on as long as possible just to save myself the embarrassment of the truth.

“I’m sorry, for what it’s worth,” I finally say, not meeting his eyes.

“Maddie, look at me,” Colby says. He’s just a few inches away now. I could look up and lean forward and I’d probably be touching him. Instead, I keep my eyes on my shoes.

“I said I’m sorry, Colby. I really don’t have anything else to say.”

“Why not?” His voice rises an octave and he takes a step back. “You told Mindy everything, but you can’t tell me anything at all? Why? You two are just friends and I’m your
boyfriend
, Maddie. Talk to me.”

I look up now, the B-word searing into my heart like a hot dagger. “You know how Mindy is,” I say, pressing my lips together. “She made me tell her even though I didn’t want to.”

His lips twist into a slight grin, his head tilting slightly. “I wish I had as much power as Mindy. I wish you would talk to me.”

“What is there to talk about?” I heave a resigned sigh. As much as I love looking at this boy, as much as his honeyed voice makes my toes tingle, now I just want to leave and be alone. I can’t stand being right next to someone I can’t have.

I stand a little straighter. “I’m trailer trash, Colby. I’m a poor, trash,
loser
who happened to luck out when my mom met a rich guy. I’ll never be one of the typical girls you date in high school. I’m just like them. I can’t be, no matter how rich and popular I suddenly get, that’s not me.”

Colby moves closer, his hands grabbing my arms, his eyes boring into mine. “That’s why I love you, Maddie. I love that you’re not like the other girls. I don’t want one of them. I’m
sick
of typical. I want you.”

“I—” I can’t say it. The words won’t come for the longest time, and we just stand here, his hands gripping me tightly but not painfully, his face an expression of desperation. “You should hate me. I lied to you.”

He laughs, a snort at first, but then it turns into full out laughter. He drags his hands down his face and then sweeps them through his hair. “Maybe I should hate you. But I can’t. I am completely in love with you.”

My heart pounds loudly in my ears. My fingers tingle and I am suddenly so very sure that I’ve slipped and hit my head and now I’m daydreaming all of this. “I lied to you,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

“About stupid things, right? I mean, our talks, our inside jokes . . . our epic make out sessions . . .” He lifts an eyebrow. “That was real, right? The girl you were when you were with me, tell me that was real? Because nothing else matters but that.”

I blink and tears roll down my cheek. “It was real, but—”

He shakes his head, taking my hands in his. “That’s all that matters. I’m sorry I didn’t notice you before, Maddie. I should have. I should have seen you the day you first moved here and then we could have been dating a lot longer.” He squeezes my hands, inching forward until our toes touch, his forehead tilting to press against mine. “Please forgive me for taking so long to see you.”

“I’m the one who needs forgiving, not you.”

“Let’s both forgive each other at the same time.” Colby lifts an eyebrow, a devilish grin making my toes tingle.

I chuckle. “Okay. On three.”

“One,” he says. “Two . . . three.”

I grin, not sure what we’re supposed to do now. But then I’m lifted off my feet, twirled through the air, and set back down again. Colby’s lips press against mine, his hands holding me tightly.

This kiss is just like the first one: nervous and passionate, a little scared but full of possibility. When he pulls away, I realize a steady stream of tears have been slipping down my cheeks, a mixture of pain and love and hope of what’s yet to come.

Colby brushes away the tears, his thumbs soft and gentle on my face.

“What do we do now? I ask, peering up into his brown eyes.

He holds out a hand in a sweeping gesture. “How about a dance?”

***

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Amy Sparling is the author of The Summer Unplugged Series, Ella's Twisted Senior Year, Deadbeat & other awesome books for younger teens. She loves coffee, the beach, and swooning over book boyfriends.

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