What You Always Wanted (26 page)

Sarah and I load our plates with another round of cookies and head back to the living room, when I catch sight of the one girl who could turn my holiday sour.

“Who invited her?” I ask Sarah quietly as we watch Rica waltz in the front door and breeze past us, heading straight for the kitchen.

“Oh. Yeah. About that.” Sarah takes a sip of cider from her green plastic cup. “Ryan sort of told Rica about it—”

“And why would your otherwise flawless boyfriend do such a thing?”

“—accidentally. At the wrap party for
Barefoot in the Park
the other week.”

We move a few steps to the side so we can see Rica filling her plates with veggies, chips, and dip.

“What do you mean, ‘accidentally'? How does that sort of thing just come up
accidentally
?”

“I don't know. We were all talking about holiday plans and vacations and who was having New Year's parties. It just came out. Maybe she thought she was invited.”

“She's going to spoil the festive mood,” I say. “It's one thing to see her at school, but here in my happy place? I just can't forget that Rica practically drugged me to beat me at an audition and then made a big deal, in front of who knows how many people, that the only guy I've ever loved is
dead
! What if I really had a boyfriend who died in some tragically tragic way?”

“She thought you
did
,” Sarah says, biting the head off a gingerbread man.

“Exactly.” I eat the arms off my own.

“Though once upon a time I thought you did too,” she reminds me.

“I'm sorry about that,” I say, body tensing. “I just didn't know how to explain it without sounding insane. It was too soon.”

She laughs and my worry melts. “I get you more than you think I do.”

“I know.” I smile, truly grateful I can be myself with her. “And you would never have used it against me like Rica did. I mean, they don't get much more vile than that.”

“Word. I'm surprised she's never slipped me a strawberry just to watch me break out in hives.”

“Now that would just be evil.” I swallow the last of my eggnog and shudder at the strong kick of nutmeg that settled on the bottom. “Really, though, we shouldn't let her bother us so much. We can't let her win by ruining our New Year's.”

“Oh, she bothers me plenty,” Sarah snorts. “You didn't have to direct the play that the tricky little witch and my boyfriend were in together. And the
kissing
. Don't even get me started on how hard
that
was to watch day after day.”

I rip the head off my cookie too, thinking of all those actors you hear about who fall in love with their costars and wreck seemingly perfect marriages. “You're a true professional.”

She blinks a few times. “I suddenly feel the need to find Ryan and hug him.” And with that, she disappears into the crowded room.

I spot Rider in the kitchen, surrounded by girls, piling a bunch of cookies on a plate. All the girls are laughing that fake
Don't you think I'm awesome?
laugh. If I'm forced to witness the puffing out of chests and the fluffing of feathers over my brother, I might go sit outside by the fire pit with the adults. At least he's not following me around like a hawk.

The sharp feedback from a microphone makes me jump, and I turn to see Jesse and Red setting up a karaoke machine in the living room, between the fireplace and the Christmas tree. A row of girls including Rica are crammed next to each other on the couch, reading through the song selection.

“Are you actually going to sing?” I ask when I reach Jesse. My heart trills at the possibility.

He laughs. “Uh . . . my relationship with this machine ends as soon as I plug it in.”

“Oh, come on,” I prod. “What's it going to take to get you behind a mic? Money? Liquor?”

I've inadvertently drawn the attention of half the room, and laughter rings out all around us. Rica pops up from the couch and stands maybe a foot away from Jesse, already trying to control the show.

“Jesse's a great singer,” she announces to her audience, bubbly and peppy like she's eaten nothing but sugar cookies all day. “A few years ago, we sang together at a school function. We should sing a duet, Jesse! Or I can just sing harmonies! Which one do you want to do?”

My insides twist. He sang with
her
?

He shakes his head. “That was in sixth grade. Our whole class sang together. For Grandparents' Day. And it was required.”

My mouth explodes in one of those laughs I roll my eyes at, but who could help it?

The tips of her cheeks darken. “Well, I was standing next to him,” she continues, talking about him instead of with him. “He must have, like, perfect pitch or something. I swear he can do anything.” She turns to him. “Come on, let's sing for everyone.”

This whole scene she's making probably shouldn't surprise me, but it does.

“I
can
do anything,” Jesse says, snapping one of the microphones into its stand. “But I'm not singing with you.”

Red fumbles with the second microphone stand, biting back laughter.

“Why don't
you
sing something?” Jesse asks.

I assume he's suggesting Rica perform a solo, until I realize he's looking at me. I'm about to protest, insisting that I haven't had time to prepare anything, yet fully intending to give in if I find something on the song list worth performing. But Rica's not done with her audience.

“Maddie doesn't have the right voice for lead.” Always concerned with appearance, she tucks a strand of her sleek raven hair behind an ear. “She's just an alto, a chorus-type. Don't embarrass the poor girl.”

A few hesitant chuckles and murmurs reach my ears. I start to hug my stomach but force my arms to my sides. I will not let her get to me. She can't win.

I open my mouth to ask how she even knows I'm
just an alto
when she reads my mind.

“I was there,” she says. “For your audition at the playhouse.”

“How—”

“Open audition. I was in the back. I never miss a chance to scope out the competition.” Her silver bracelet jingles as she adjusts her skirt. “But it was just as I thought from the first time I saw you try out for the school play.” She pauses. “I'm not threatened by you.”

As much as I'd like to laugh in her face, I'm suddenly self-conscious and my eyes automatically zip to Jesse, his left eyebrow slightly raised as he studies Rica.

Sarah's by my side in an instant. “The fact that you just had to make another big speech to put her down in front of everyone sure makes it sound like you
are
threatened.”

I want to clap. How is this the same girl who Rica walked all over a mere handful of months ago? Maybe Sarah got used to telling Rica what to do when she directed the play. My chest swells with pride, and I've almost forgotten that all of this was inspired by ugly words about me.

“How dare you?” Rica says in irritation. “You're not allowed to talk to me like that.”

Sarah noticeably shrinks back.
Come on
, I mentally encourage.
Don't let her win
. But the moment is over, Sarah's brief surge of gumption used up.

“I guess I'll go first, then,” Rica says, taking the microphone and standing front and center near the fireplace. She looks to Jesse like he's in charge of the karaoke machine. “I'm going to sing—”

“Find it yourself,” Jesse growls. And without warning, he grabs my hand and weaves me between our classmates, his teammates, my distracted brother and his fan club, through the
kitchen, and past Angela, with her mouth agape, and out the back door into the night.

“Hop on,” Jesse says over the engine of the four-wheeler.

I glance around, and besides the glow from the fire pit closer to the house, I can't see much. “Where are we going?”

“Just for a ride. I like riding at night, it's . . . relaxing.”

“Okay. . . .” I straddle the seat behind him. “Still no helmet, huh? What if we plummet into a ravine or something?”

“We won't. Trust me.”

“You're so sure of yourself all the time.”

“Uh, I'm sure we're not going to plummet into a ravine because there are no ravines to plummet into. Satisfied?”

He takes off before I can answer, and I clamp my hands on his waist to keep from doing a backflip. We follow the worn path into tall grasses and through the woods until we reach the creek where I saw my first deer. Everything's brown and dead, so this ride is sneeze-free, and it's somewhat exhilarating pulling the chilled air into my lungs. I could stand it to be colder, but I'm pleased by the numbness of my cheeks and my watering eyes. Makes me feel alive.

We come to a stop and I remove my hands from Jesse's sides, following him in the light of the nearly full moon closer to the edge of the water. What was a mere trickle a few months ago is now a fast-moving stream.

I lower myself to the crispy grass next to him, empowered by the darkness and our inability to completely see each other. “You know, people are probably thinking we came out here so
you could mend my wounded pride with your lips.” He doesn't respond, so I hug my knees to my chest for something to do. “Make-out therapy,” I add with a laugh to make sure he knows I'm joking—mostly.

He stretches his legs out, crossing one boot over the other. “Maybe we did,” he says with what I hope is a hint of humor.

My stomach tightens, and my pulse pounds in my ears. I might be shaking. But I'm not the nervous type. I don't get anxious about stuff. What's happening to me?

“Seriously.” I nudge him with my elbow to lighten the mood. “What—”

“I just wanted to talk to you,” he says, too quietly for me to be sure if I heard him right. “Away from everyone else. When I'm not your chauffeur or dance teacher.”

I search for his face in the bluish light and follow the line of his profile down the ridge of his nose, stopping at the pair of lips I remember all too well on mine.

“You want to t-talk?” I ask through chattering teeth, inwardly cursing my body for betraying me.

Leaves rustle in the woods off to the right and I gasp, reaching out for Jesse and pulling myself closer to him at the same time.

“Scared?” he whispers through a laugh, giving my arm a squeeze.

He rifles through a bag he brought with us and clicks on a flashlight. A pair of eyes glow green from the face of a giant, grayish rodent thing, maybe twenty feet away. I scoot a hair closer to Jesse, better lining him up between me and the creature.

“Possum,” he says as if I should have known, stowing the flashlight back in the bag.

“Possum. Right.” I keep an eye in its direction in case it charges us. “Aren't those mean?”

“They can be. But if you ignore it, it'll act like it's dead or sneak off. Don't worry. I won't let it drag you away.”

“You're just my hero tonight, aren't you?” I relax my hold on his arm, and he surprises me by taking my hand again. I clear my throat to fill the silence. “Really, though, thank you for getting me out of there.”

“Okay,” he says in a rushed way like he's changing the subject, and I have no clue where it's going. He takes a deep breath before continuing. “I'm trying to say this without sounding stupid, so don't freak out or anything.”

“Uh, I can't make any promises. I mean, you did bring me out into the middle of the forest in the middle of the night.”

“Maddie,” he says, clearly dismissing my nervous rambling. He twists his upper body to look at me, tugging my arm, so I do the same. “I keep thinking about that kiss.”

“Kiss?” I repeat, even though my mind was already replaying it before he said anything.

“Ever since the hayride, every time I see you, I have no idea what to say, how to act. I always feel like I say the wrong things.”

My eyes widen as my brain struggles to absorb his fast-flying words that make no sense. He can't really mean that he can't stop thinking about
me
. He just likes kissing; who doesn't? I liked it so much I tried kissing
Brian
just to feel that again. But it was nothing like Jesse's kiss. With Jesse it was . . . like dancing.

I swallow, which makes a sound I fear is louder than the possum, and my teeth resume their chattering. Maybe I'm getting sick. Yes, that must be it.

“W-well,” I sputter, “you usually act like your normal, overconfident self. I wouldn't worry too much.”

“Tell me you think about it, too.” He pauses, and a few fireworks whistle in the distance. “That you think about me.”

“Do I think about how you stole my first kiss?” I watch his eyes as they stare out over the water, and instantly regret bringing it up again. I kissed him back. He didn't steal anything.

“I kissed you because I wanted to. And because I thought maybe you did, too.” His tone is a mix of sadness and defensiveness.

For once, I'm not sure what to say, so I don't say anything.

Reaching toward me with his free hand, he grazes a finger over the stars on my cheek. “The first day I saw you, you had one of these on. I didn't really get it.”

“Oh. Well, this lady in one of my favorite movies wears one for a few scenes.” I memorize the feel of his touch as he glides his finger along my jaw before placing his hand on the ground to hold himself up. “I don't know. I guess I've just always liked it.”

“You and your old movies,” he snickers. “Angela told me about that girly club y'all have going.”

“We'd let you come, if you wanted. It's not like a girls-only thing. It just turned out that way.” I sit up straighter, hopeful. “Do you like old movies at all?”

“Nah.” He shakes his head and my shoulders fall slightly. “But I like that you like them.”