The Queen of Bright and Shiny Things (23 page)

So I carry my purchases over and point out, “The tires need to be inflated and repaired and there’s some rust on the chain.” Not enough to make the bike unusable, but it’s worth noting. “Fifteen.”

“I could get far more for it on the Internet,” she says, frowning.

“And you’d have to list it on an auction site, give them part of your proceeds, and then figure out how to ship it. It would be simpler to make us a deal.”

“Twenty,” she counters.

I nod at Shane, who’s already got a crumpled bill in his hand. He says, “I’ll take it.”

“Excellent. I hope you enjoy it. Did you find some things?” she asks me.

I nod. The prices on the clothes are so low that I don’t feel right about bargaining. I mean, I’m getting five tops for less than three dollars. “Here you go.”

She hands me fifty cents and then hurries away to scold a kid who’s about to break a cookie jar because his mother is absorbed in a fringed lampshade. I stuff my purchases into my backpack and then kneel to examine his bike. It needs some fixing up, but the repairs are mostly cosmetic.

“I got a bargain, huh?” Shane’s smiling, so I guess he doesn’t mind that I haggled for him.

“Definitely. You can ride it now, if you want. And I can help you fix it up. We have bike stuff left in my shed from when we restored mine.”

“You and your aunt worked on your bike?” He seems impressed.

“Yeah. I mean, it wasn’t a big deal. Come on, let’s see how well yours works.”

He nods, swinging onto the bike. It’s ridiculously fun riding with Shane to my house. I’m used to being the lone geek pedaling away, long after the weather turns. With him behind me, this feels like an adventure, and I take pleasure in the sun shining down and the wind in my face. As I zoom down the hill, I throw up both hands, showing off a little. I can’t count all the times I fell over before I perfected that trick. I’ve never had anyone to show before now.

When we stop in my driveway, I’m laughing so hard, and Shane pulls me off the seat into his arms. “That was crazy.”

“But cool?”

“I should say it was just crazy. But … yeah. Sometimes you strike me as fearless, the way you do whatever the hell you want, and it doesn’t seem to bother you what anyone thinks.”

“I care what you think,” I say softly.

“From where I’m standing, it’s all good,” he answers.

Then he kisses me.
Mmm.
Shane tastes like mint, and his lips are magical. If our neighbor hadn’t come out of her front door and stood there clearing her throat like she was choking on a corncob, we might’ve gone on all afternoon.

“Hey, Mrs. Darnell. How are you?”

She’s muttering something about
in her day
when I pull Shane around the side of the house. “I guarantee she’ll mention this to my aunt.”

“Will she mind?”

“Nah. I’m sure she’ll figure it’s better that we do it where we can be interrupted. So this is the bike-parking shed.”

While I’m in there, I take stock of the parts. We’ll need to buy a few things from the hardware store, but I have oil. The paint could use touching up, but that’s wholly cosmetic. My primary concern should be the tires and the chain. I’m mumbling this out loud, as I take inventory, then I give him a short lecture on proper bicycle maintenance. Belatedly, I realize this probably isn’t normal girlfriend behavior. Shane’s looking really bemused. I stash both our bikes, then close the door behind me.

“What time are Ryan and Lila coming over?” he asks, following me into the house.

“Around seven thirty.” I check the time on my phone. “We have almost four hours. Do you want something to eat?”

“You really have no idea, do you?” His voice holds a wondering note.

I’m wary. “Of what?”

“How incredible you are.”

Um.
Apparently he likes that I can take care of my sporting equipment? I choke the instinctive protest because I hear Aunt Gabby chiding me:
When someone gives you a compliment, you simply say thank you, even if you don’t feel you deserve it.
So I murmur an awkward “thanks.”

“No, I don’t want anything to eat.”

“Then what do you—” The question’s cut off by his mouth.

Wow. Me. That’s what he wants.

My back hits the refrigerator door as Shane kisses the hell out of me. I wrap my arms around his neck because I can’t get close enough to him. Countless seconds later, he breaks away, breathless. “I’ll die if we do that for four hours.”

“It might be worth it,” I whisper.

His fingers cling to mine as he tugs me toward the living room. Shane flashes the smile that squeezes my heart: equal parts shyness, innocence, and yearning. God, I’m so into him; it’s a physical pain that won’t go away. He pulls me down onto the couch and we make out for like an hour. It might’ve gone further if my aunt hadn’t come home early to get ready for her date with Joe.

We spring apart as she unlocks the front door, and I hope I don’t look as guilty as I feel.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“What’re you two up to tonight?” she asks.

I suspect she knows what we
were
doing, and I grin really big, trying to look innocent. “Watching a movie with Ryan and Lila. They’ll be over later.”

“That’s reassuring. I’ll be home by midnight. Do you want me to cook before I go out?”

I shake my head. “I can make grilled cheese or pasta.”

Lila and Ryan will probably eat at home, so popcorn will do for them. I glance at Shane. “Should we make something now?” It’s almost five. Depending on what we fix, it might be almost six by the time we finish.

“Yeah,” he mutters.

I can tell he’s uncomfortable that my aunt almost caught him on top of me, and for some reason, I want to laugh. We make spaghetti with a creamy tomato sauce; I puree some soft tofu to add protein. Along with a green salad, this is a decent meal.

“I need to cook for you sometime,” Shane says, as we sit down.

“What’s your specialty?”

“Slow-cooker pulled pork, but I guess that’s out. I can also make decent vegetable soup.”

“Nom. I’ll bring fresh bread.”

“Do you use a machine?”

I shake my head. “My aunt believes in old-fashioned kneading. Good upper-body workout.” Then I pretend to flex, which is obviously absurd, and Shane smiles.

God, I’d do anything to make him laugh. When I’m being silly, some of his shadows seem to melt away, and
this
is how he should be, full of sunshine and laughter. The somber darkness I sometimes glimpse in him isn’t natural. Yet I recognize it, and I wonder if that’s what pulls us together. I remember Ryan mentioning Shane’s “thick file” when he started at our school, but I’m in no position to judge, no matter what he’s done. The important thing is who he is now.

I can hear my aunt moving around, getting ready for her date. She comes out once to ask my opinion on her outfit, and I give her two thumbs-up on a red dress with silver accessories, then she hurries off to do hair and makeup.

Shane appears baffled. “I had no idea it was such a thing for a girl to get ready. Do you…?” He cuts the question, seeming to decide he shouldn’t ask me.

But I can finish it. Do I flutter for him the way my aunt does for Joe? “Yeah. Sometimes I can’t decide what shirt to wear or if I should go with or without lip gloss.”

“I don’t care about fashion,” he answers. “I’d take you with no shirt at all. Uhm. I mean.” Then he’s as red as the tomato sauce.

I laugh. “My aunt’s in the next room!”

Groaning, he buries his head in his hands. “Hopefully that’s the stupidest thing I’ll say tonight. It should be noted that I don’t like lip gloss.”

By the time we tidy up the kitchen, Joe has arrived and my aunt goes off with him, somehow managing not to say anything embarrassing before she does. I love her even more for that. Ryan and Lila arrive shortly thereafter, then there’s more laughter, a stupid comedy that I’ve seen four times, so it doesn’t matter if I sneak looks at Shane the whole night. We eat popcorn and throw it at each other, and by the time my aunt gets home, it’s just the two of us again.

“Looks like you had fun,” she comments, counting the cups mentally.

I can see that she’s relieved that we spent the evening as a group. Now she doesn’t have to worry that I’m pregnant; it’ll be a while before she has to deal with that concern. Shane tries to duck out the back without a lot of fuss, but there’s no way my aunt’s letting that happen.

“Reflective tape,” she tells him sternly. “Or I’m driving you home myself.”

Shane shoots me a horrified look. Yeah, if she sees where he lives, she’ll ask to meet his parents … and since they’re not around, she’ll call social services. Then he’ll end up in foster care, and I know that’s not what he wants. But if I’m being honest, this is a selfish move because I can’t stand the thought of him going away. Even if it would be better for him.

I know that makes me a horrible person.

“I’ll get the tape,” I say. “Shane’s got a bike in the shed. You’ll be careful, right?”

Relieved, he nods and he doesn’t protest when I stripe his arms and legs and one down his back for good measure. “See you tomorrow.”

He kisses me quickly, then he’s gone. I watch out the window until he’s out of sight, then I turn to find my aunt studying me. “You’re in love.”

“Shut up, so are you.”

Her cheeks pinken. “Maybe.”

“It’s a good year for us, huh?”

“Possibly the best yet,” she admits.

*   *   *

Saturday, I pack a picnic, which we eat in the park. Afterward, Shane sings to me; he’s brought his guitar this time, and I fool around, recording him on my phone. I tell him it’s because I want to sell the video when he’s famous, but the truth is, I just want to watch it when I’m not with him. How lame am I? Afterward, we stop in at the Coffee Shop, and the barista asks if Shane’s interested in doing a regular Sunday performance, once a month. He’s excited, so he’s in a fantastic mood by the time he has to go to work.

That weekend sets the tone for the next few. Shane and I hang out in between work, school, and homework, but often we drag Ryan and Lila along with us, as they get along better than expected. The recycling drive goes well, though it doesn’t set any records. I’m pleased that my social studies teacher approves the extra credit scheme.

Halloween rolls around, but I don’t hit the party out at the Barn. Instead, I have friends over, the first time it’s been more than Ryan and me; we used to do a scary movie marathon. He seems a little sad, but resigned, I guess, that things have changed for good. And I think it’s a positive change. The house is noisy with the freshmen and sophomores, Ryan and Lila, me, Shane, and even Conrad and Gwen make an appearance. Mostly the night involves eating candy, giving sweets to little people, and watching horror movies. My aunt is smart enough to hole up in her room and just ride it out. The next day, I learn that the cops raided the Barn and all minors who were present and drinking have community service … except the football team. Funny how that works out.

At school, I watch Dylan and he observes me with cold determination, but he hasn’t been able to find anything out about me; his silence can’t mean anything else.
Excellent
. I’m relieved that my case files are actually confidential. I hesitate to say so, but things might be okay. Life is good. It’s odd to think that, but with Shane’s arms around me, his chin on my shoulder, it’s hard to feel otherwise. People know his name from his gig at the Coffee Shop, and music geeks are constantly coming up to him, trying to get him to join a garage band.

In fact, we have three grungy guys in front of us now. They’re trying to talk him into it. “Come on, dude. Your guitar work is awesome, but I play bass, and Andrew is pretty good on the drums.”

“What does the quiet guy do?”

The first dude grins. “He brings beer.”

Yep, they sound like committed artists. I look at Shane, curious if he’s interested.

Who says, “Thanks, but I don’t have time.”

I’ve learned my lesson, though. No matter how awesome a musician I think he is, I don’t try to talk him into joining them. Shane knows his own needs best. He smiles at me as we walk away from the wannabe–rock stars.

That night, I get a surprise—an unknown number texts me:
hey, princess.:)

Shane’s the only one who calls me that in a sweet way. But I check just to be sure.
Shane? You got a phone?

Yep.

Maybe I’m too suspicious but this could be Dylan, trying to trick me. I don’t know how he’d get my number, but he could’ve bribed one of the freshmen or sophomores who have it. They haven’t been friends long enough for me to be sure they’d side with me.

So I type,
what question did you ask me in detention?

Explain to me why this was worth a tardy.

Good. He’s talking about the Post-it I left for him. While Dylan could know about that, I don’t see how he could answer what Shane said to me. Then I get another text:
Right answer? They sell cheap prepaid ones at the P&K. Figured it was time.

Me:
Yep. You should leave your number for Jace at the Coffee Shop. If you wanna play w/ him.

Shane:
Not really. I don’t play well with others.

Me:
You play with me fine.
It’s only after I hit send that I realize how that sounds. Oh, crap. There’s no way he’ll let that go.

Shane:…
are we sexting?

Me:
OMG. I’m leaving now.

Shane:
Night, princess.

The next day, he smirks at me, waggling his phone, like there’s something really dirty on it. The blush nearly sets my face on fire. On the plus side, his new phone means I get the sweetest messages at random points in the day … and sometimes when he’s on break at work, too. He starts leaving Post-its on our locker, too—nothing embarrassing, little things I did that make him happy. Shane takes some shit for it, but I bet other girls wish their boyfriends were more like him. Mind you, I don’t stop leaving compliments for people having a crappy day, but not gonna lie, it’s easier to see the bright side with Shane shining just for me.