The Last Time We Were Us (16 page)

“I think I should go home.” I head for the car.

“Lizzie.”

I turn back, waiting for him to tell me the truth.

But his shoulders are slumped. All he says is, “I need you.”

“No, you don’t.” I’m so sure of the words about to come out of my mouth that it hurts. “You just need someone.”

M
AC
K
ENZIE CALLS ME
that night after dinner. I hesitate before answering, hardly eager for another lecture about ruining things with Innis, especially when I feel so stupid about believing Jason, but I want to hear her voice so bad, I take my chance. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she says. Relief floods over me—she doesn’t sound pissed.

“You’re not still mad, are you?” I ask.

“No. You?”

“No.”

She laughs. “Hung out with any criminals lately?”

I force a laugh myself. “Not lately,” I lie.

“Excited about the lake?”

“Yes.” And that’s not a lie, because Innis was so sweet to send me that picture, and when I texted him back, he said he couldn’t wait to see me tomorrow. “Wait. Did I tell you about the lake?”

“No sirree,” MacKenzie says. “Innis asked Payton, and Payton asked me. Alex is coming too, with Marisa. Isn’t it perfect? It’ll be like a triple date. Assuming you
are
still interested in dating Innis.”

“I am.” It comes out a bit too quickly.

“Good. Because this is huge for us, Liz. Huge!”

“Totally.” I know I sound distracted. Now that she’s not mad, all I want to do is tell her everything about Jason—the kiss, our conversation today—everything.

It’s like we’re telepathically connected or something. MacKenzie clears her throat, and I can hear her wheels turning. “You’re not still thinking about Jason, are you? I mean about actually like . . .”

I stall. Should I tell her? I know she doesn’t want to hear it, but she’s still my best friend.

“Because it’s crazy if you are,” she says.

Her words shake me out of my fantasy. “No, Kenzie, I’m not.”

“You just sound a little out in right field, is all.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s
left
field.”

“Whatever,” she says. “You Braves fans take your baseball metaphors way too seriously.”

“You play softball,” I say. “You should definitely know that.”

She laughs, but then she’s silent, waiting for a real answer.

I offer the first excuse that comes to mind. “Lyla’s driving me crazy with wedding stuff. She’s a total control freak about it.”

“Ahh.” From her tone, I think she believes me. “Well, even more reason why you need a break.”

“Right,” I say. “Yeah.”

“So Marisa and I are going to the mall tomorrow to get new swimsuits. Everything’s on sale now. And I was thinking you could maybe even get a dress for your big fundraising shindig . . . as long as you’re still going?”

“Of course I’m still going.”

“Perfect. Well, I have to go ’cause Payton’s texting, but I’ll text you with the deets. When do you get done babysitting?”

“One.”

“Awesome.
Layta
.”

“See ya tomorrow.”

And when I hang up the phone, I suddenly feel more clearheaded.

Because I may have countless yesterdays with Jason, but I have a whole world of tomorrows with Innis.

And there’s no point in effing up tomorrow in the hope of getting a yesterday back.

It probably wasn’t as good as I remember it, anyway.

Chapter 15

“N
EXT ORDER OF BUSINESS,
” M
AC
K
ENZIE ANNOUNCES,
as we shuffle through the food court the following day. “Finding Liz a fancy-schmancy but still supersexy dress.”

“Can we stop for a pretzel first?” Marisa asks. Nicole Tully, a cheerleader who I’d met at Innis’s a couple of times before, nods eagerly.

We make a beeline to Auntie Anne’s and get two pretzels for the four of us, extra napkins.

Standing here, licking our buttery fingers, I can’t help but think of Veronica. She always had a special ire for girls who roamed the mall in packs. One afternoon, we were sitting in the food court when five or six senior girls walked past us, giggling loudly. “I’ve never understood,” Veronica said, between sips of her Frap, “why you need five opinions to buy a pair of jeans.” I didn’t have the guts to say then what I was really feeling—that they looked like they were having a lot of fun.

Just as I suspected, being part of a crew isn’t bad at all. In the last couple of hours, I’ve laughed so hard my stomach hurt as Marisa tried desperately to park and Nicole chanted, “Reel ’er in Nelly, reel ’er in!”; I’ve helped Kenzie pick out a swimsuit that seems way too scandalous for family boat time; and I’ve completely changed my opinion of Nicole, who I’d always thought was ditzy but is actually supersmart and nice.

Once we’ve gotten most of the butter off our fingers, we head to Belk’s juniors department and start picking through the rows of sparkles and beads and flashy colors. Mom generously lent me her credit card with a warning not to tell Dad, and I have eighty dollars to spend. The girls all pull their favorites in my size, and we head to the dressing room, ignoring the “6 Items Only” in our tiny, gala-focused rebellion.

The first one is baby pink and has MacKenzie written all over it.

“Love it!” Kenzie says as I walk out.

I look back in the mirror, see nothing but ruffles. “I’m moving on to the next one.”

There are a few boring black things and one with way too much lace. Finally, I slip on one of the ones I grabbed. Sweetheart neckline. Flared just enough at the bottom to make it perfect for twirling. Beads all over. Dark purple, and totally me.

When I walk out, I can see that they all love it.

“That’s it,” Nicole says.

“Say yes to the dress!” Marisa yells.

“Lady, you are going to blow his mind,” MacKenzie says, before nodding down to the bag in her hand. “I mean, not as much as I’m going to blow Payton’s at the lake tomorrow, but still definitely up there.” She smiles mischievously.

“It is a pretty great dress, isn’t it?” I glance back in the mirror and take it all in. I’m here, with MacKenzie and two potential new friends, and I’m about to spend nearly the whole weekend with Innis and his family.

Things are good, I remind myself. So good.

All I have to do is not mess them up.

M
OM CAN HARDLY
contain her excitement when Innis’s dad pulls up in his Escalade the next morning. She insists on following me down to the car—she’s not going to let an opportunity to rub elbows with Mr. Taylor pass her by.

Innis smiles at me as I open the door and grab the only empty seat next to Skip. MacKenzie and Payton are cuddled up in the back; Marisa and Alex are idling in Marisa’s Mercedes, behind us.

“Liz, this is my dad,” Innis says. He sounds happy to introduce me, like I’m something to be proud of.

I’ve seen Mr. Taylor in pictures in the paper and around town before, but never really this close. His dark brown hair is smooth, combed back and still full, even though he must be in his forties. He’s in good shape, his skin tan and taut, and he wears expensive sunglasses, a crisp visor, and a shirt that looks freshly pressed. “It’s great to finally meet you,” he says, but it sounds a little forced. Then he looks to Mom, and I swear I see a flash of annoyance in his eyes. She’s hovering outside the car, beaming like it’s some superhuge occasion. “Genevieve,” he says automatically. “It’s been way too long.”

“It has, hasn’t it?” She’s oblivious to the fact that he was just saying it, that he didn’t really mean it at all. Am I nothing but a reminder of Lyla, of the moment his son lost his place as golden boy? “Thank you
so much
for inviting Liz along.” Mom raises her eyebrows at me. “It’s so kind of you.”

“Yes, thank you so much.” I shoot her a look. I was totally going to say it, as soon as she stopped awkwardly hovering.

“Of course,” Mr. Taylor says, perfectly polite and yet cold all the same. “Anytime. We’ll be back before dark.”

Skip spends most of the drive staring out the window, watching little North Carolina towns pass us by, his bad side facing me the entire time. When I’m not making eyes at Innis in the side-view mirror, I allow myself to take him in: His strong features stand out against his damaged skin, and I realize that his hair is even darker than Innis’s, more like his father’s. Beyond all the scars, there is a grotesque sort of beauty about him, a closed-off, say-nothing Quasimodo sort of grace.

I wonder what the burn specialist did yesterday, if he’s in any pain. I wonder if Jason wonders these things, too, or if he even cares.

Eventually, we turn onto a road that looks just as new and kept up as the Escalade. We pull up to a house, almost gluttonous in its grandness. Mr. Taylor turns off the car, and we all get out.

MacKenzie and Payton steal maybe the seventeenth kiss of the morning, as Innis looks my way and pretends to hold back vomit, and Marisa and Alex get out of her car, obvious annoyance on both of their faces. I chuckle to myself. They’ll probably be off-again soon.

Innis grabs his duffel, takes my bag and swings it over his shoulder, and shoots me that big Taylor smile. “Not a bad drive, huh?”

I shake my head. “Not at all.”

“Come on, I’ll give you the tour.” He grabs my hand and pulls me with him, and a subtle fluttering descends into my stomach.

“I’m just going to show her around,” he calls to his dad.

MacKenzie manages to pull back from Payton long enough to give me an excited look. Behind her, Marisa beams. The two are like my own personal cheerleaders.

Innis pulls a key out of his pocket and opens the door. I follow him in. Black-and-white tiles set off the entryway. The inside is huge, open and airy with high ceilings and wooden rafters. It looks like a house from one of Mom’s magazines.

Innis slips his loafers off, and I follow suit with my flip-flops. Barefoot, my head doesn’t even come up to his shoulder. He looks down and gives me another smile, the kind that says he’s happy I’m here. His gray eyes glisten, and his skin is tan and glowing from the light streaming in from the windows.

We walk across a lush striped rug, past a dining room on the left, formal as all get out and just waiting to host a fabulous dinner party, and a sitting area on the right, each sofa so full and fat, it looks like you could sit down and be swallowed whole.

But it’s not just the furniture that’s luxurious. It’s an air about him and his dad, even Skip. Innis is in his element. He’s confident, proud of what he has. And beyond that, he’s not scared. The future is bright, very much so, and you can see it in all of their faces. Maybe that’s why Jason is so hated; he messed up the order of things. In one night, he broke what should have been unbreakable.

He grabs my hand and squeezes, giving me another tug. “Wait ’til you see the view.” His voice is a whisper, his lips just barely brush my ear as he says it, and chills rush through me, a soft, tingling sensation I can feel all the way down to my toes. He laces his fingers through mine, and I follow.

The back wall is covered in windows, floor to ceiling, side to side, so we’re staring out at a living landscape, an oversized oil painting set off with glass. The house sits right on the lake, which is a deep blue, set apart by verdant trees and a sweeping sky with only the slightest wisps of clouds.

He turns to me and smiles, our fingers still interlocked, and my heart beats quick and light, wings flapping like it’s going to fly right out of my chest.

M
AC
K
ENZIE AND
M
ARISA
and I lie on the dock while the boys do boat stuff, getting the shiny beast of a machine ready for the water. Things are easier here. There are no beach bags and coolers, no carting towels around or planning lunch. Right off the dock, there’s a fridge with ice-cold bottled waters, thinly sliced salami, and cheese with a name I don’t know. A cabinet holds thick towels, extra flip-flops, visors, sunglasses, and sunscreen.

I take a sip of water and pop a piece of salami into my mouth. “This is the life.” I smile at MacKenzie. “Isn’t it?”

She leans closer. “Innis is gaga for you. He looks your way like every five seconds.” I glance towards the boat and start counting. At eight-one-thousand, he looks over at me, smiles and goes back to work.

She lowers her voice even more. “Payton says that he’s thinking about asking you to be his girlfriend.”

My heart starts beating fast again. “Seriously?”

Marisa laughs. “Don’t act so surprised! He’s taking you to the ball like Prince Charming or something.”

“It’s not the ball.” I laugh.

“It’s Bonneville,” Marisa says. “Take what you can get.”

The two of them snicker, but I wonder what I would say if Innis did ask me to be his girlfriend, officially and all. I would have to stop seeing Jason, no doubt about it. But it doesn’t matter—the answer
has
to be yes. It’s Innis Taylor. As the sun beats on me and a bit of water laps onto my feet, the choice seems crystal clear.

After a while—I don’t know how long because I feel so delightfully lazy—the boat is ready, and we all pack on, Mr. Taylor at the helm, Innis at the front, me next to him. Skip takes the seat to my right, his face even harder to look at in the blanket of sun. He doesn’t say a word.

We motor out to the middle, towards a bridge far-off with beach-bum dandruff, little specks of people flaking off into the water every few seconds, the sounds of screams and splashing in the distance. As we get closer, I see that the kids are our age, cars blaring music, a slight smell of weed surrounding them.

Mr. Taylor plays Lynyrd Skynyrd as he leads us under the bridge and into a glistening cove, far from the sounds of the partyers. After a few minutes, he stops the boat, Innis drops the anchor, and we strip down to our suits.

Payton doesn’t lose time. He pushes MacKenzie in and watches her bob up before jumping in after her. Alex follows, pushing Marisa and jumping in himself, but from the look on her face when she pops up, I really don’t think she likes it. Innis hops in next, and then they all stare at me, waiting.