Falling for the Ghost of You Read online

  It’s my turn to shrug. “We went to the beach, did some hiking. It was fun, but we were mostly busy working. So nothing too exciting.”

  “Huh.” He makes a funny chuckling sound and runs a hand through his wavy hair. “You didn’t get together with some hot surfer dude, did you?”

  I stare at him. He has a funny pained smirk on his face. A huge pit of dread opens up in my stomach. Oh, my God. He hooked up with some college skank. Look at his face. The guilty sign is flashing in neon on his forehead.

  “What’s going on, Matt?” I say, and I’m fighting hard to make my voice stay casual and composed.

  Matt fidgets in his seat and flicks a quick glance at my face. “What do you mean?”

  I don’t say anything for a moment. I have to work up the courage to ask this next question, because once it’s out there, it will change everything, I just know it.

  “Did you hook up with someone?”

  Long silence. In that moment, my heart falls off a cliff because I know it’s true. I don’t even need to look into his guilty bastard eyes for confirmation. I can’t breathe. I’m in shock. I can’t believe this is happening. How could I not be prepared for something like this? When the mice are away, the cats will play, right? Did I get that backwards? Oh, who cares.

  “It’s not what you think.” Matt suddenly rushes to fill the silence. “It’s…let me explain…”

  He reaches out to grab my hand, but I yank it away with a violence that startles the both of us. I’m shaking. I stare blindly out the window, willing myself not to break down and cry. Or punch him in the junk. I also want to stab that straw through his forehead. Maybe later.

  “How did it happen?” I finally look at his cheating flushed face. “Who is she?”

  “I…”

  Matt trails off as his gaze moves past me to something behind me.

  I turn to see what he’s looking at. Rachel Ward, one of our friends, is slowly approaching our booth. She probably wants to just say hi and ask how my summer was. I like her well enough, but I want to scream at her to get the hell away.

  “Hi, V,” Rachel says in a small voice. But her big hazel eyes are trained on Matt.

  Oh. Duh.

  I whip my head back and pin Matt with my evil glazed eyes. “What! Really?! You and Rachel?!”

  To my complete and utter astonishment, that lying ass slides over and beckons for Rachel to sit down next to him.

  Are you kidding me?!

  They are holding hands right now. Seriously, what the hell is this? Are they dating? I want to hurt them both.

  “I’m so sorry, Violet,” Matt says, staring down at their entwined fingers. “It just…happened. We were working together at Smilin’ Jack’s, and…I don’t know, we always got along so good—you know that. So we started hanging out after work and…it just happened,” he concludes helplessly.

  “I’m really sorry,” Rachel whispers, her eyes downcast. Her pretty face is wet with tears.

  Aw, let’s give the sweet pretty bitch a hug!

  “Don’t talk to me,” I snap. I have found my anger, and it’s the only think keeping me from breaking apart. I focus on my former boyfriend with laser like intensity as a revelation hits me like a falling coconut to the head. “Did you sleep with her?”

  Matt’s mouth tightens, but he doesn’t say anything. Rachel, however, is blushing bright red, so I guess that’s all the confirmation I need. Slut! a voice in my head screams.

  I feel like someone’s kicked me in the chest. Matt and I…we’ve never had sex, and he’s never pressured me to do it. And to find out that he slept with her…ugh! I thought he was just scared he might do it wrong! Does that mean he never really wanted to have sex with me? Why the hell not?!

  Matt begins to talk rapidly at me, but I can’t hear him. A roaring noise, like crashing waves fills my ears. I can’t seem to look away from the two of them sitting there together, like a couple. Well, I guess they are now. Ex-boyfriend. The term runs through my head like a cocky sprinter. Distantly, I wonder how everyone at school will react. Or do they already know? Were Matt and Rachel flaunting their new status while I was slaving away in a delicious-smelling bakery in Hawaii?

  I hate them.

  “…hope we can still be friends.”

  Yeah, my ex-boyfriend actually says this. I gape at him disbelievingly.

  That—wow, that just pisses me off! My hand twitches spastically with the urge to claw his eyes out. I have to get out of here. I stand up abruptly, but the ass clown grabs my hand—you know, with the other hand that’s not hanging onto his new girlfriend.

  “Please, please don’t be mad at us, V,” he begs. And tears are spilling down his cheeks. “I swear, I never wanted to hurt you. I don’t want to lose your friendship. Please say we can still be friends.”

  A deadly calm suddenly drapes over me, like a super villain’s cape. But it’s the calm before storm that I can feel building up inside of me. “Friends,” I repeat coldly.

  “Yeah. Like how we used to be.” Matt forces a smile to his weasel face at the sudden awkward silence. He glances down at the box on the table. “Do I still get my gift?” he jokes feebly.

  “Sure,” I say. I snatch it off the table and make as though to hand it to him. When he reaches for it, I hurl it away with the strength and speed of a major league pitcher. It lands in some old guy’s plate of refried beans with a splat.

  I take off. I can’t hold it together anymore, and to my horror, I’m sobbing uncontrollably. I never cry in public. I hate it! I hate him!

  Are people looking at me? Most certainly. I don’t care. I run blindly toward the door and shove it open. And then I trip over something.

  I don’t know how it happens, or what I trip over. It’s all a blur. I’m suddenly on my hands and knees, somehow wedged painfully in the threshold, the door trying to shut on my arm.

  I can see myself laughing about this after. I squeeze my eyes shut and hold onto the hope that if I wish for it hard enough, a wormhole will open up in front of me and suck me into that future point in time.

  Who knows how long I would have stayed there, like a girl-shaped doorstop. Moving would make it more real. But someone’s yanking the door open, and without any help from me, I’m being easily raised to a standing position.

  “Hey. You okay?” my rescuer says in a voice that I can only describe as sex on a stick.

  I find myself being led outside, the door slamming shut behind us. I kind of know what I’m going to find when I look up, but still, the up-close beauty of Hot Guy’s face renders me speechless—even more speechless, I mean. Is that a thing?

  It’s Hot Guy. Of course it is.

  His eyes. I can’t look away from them. Dark and intense, thickly lashed. They burn and smolder with intensity, vitality, charisma…sex…

  My gaze drops from his, only to be captured again by his mouth. God, that mouth is sinful—all seduction and danger. It sends shivers through me, but the hot, turned-on kind. Not the I’m-cold-get-me-a-blanket kind.

  What do I mean? I don’t know! Hot Guy’s still holding onto my arm. God, snap out of it! I pull away and try to gather myself. How embarrassing!

  Wow, he’s tall. Taller than I thought—maybe a few inches over six feet. And he smells so good. Like fresh laundry and something else, something clean and autumn-y. The scent makes my stomach quiver in weird and exciting ways.

  “Are you alright?” Hot Guy repeats while I gawk at him.

  “I’m not crying,” I snap, unfortunately finding my voice. “I’m just having one of those days.”

  “Sure,” he says agreeably, backing off.

  I notice he’s checking out my ass. No, wait, it feels weird back there. Is that…is that a breeze?

  My mouth drops open in absolute horror. “Oh, God, no. Don’t even tell me…the back of my pants are ripped, aren’t they?”

  Hot Guy cocks his head to the side and glances at my rear end again. “Okay, I won’t tell you.”

  I can’t h
elp the groan that escapes me. “Really?” I say to the sky. I notice he glances up, too, wondering who I’m talking to. To him, I ask, “How bad is it?”

  “Scale of one to ten? Or do you mean how much of your hot pink rabbit panties can I actually see right now?”

  I immediately clap my hands over my butt. “Oh, crap!”

  Hot Guy chuckles a little, and I’m not too distressed to notice how sexy a sound it is. I can’t help the blush that warms my cheeks. I am so—wait, what is he doing?!

  Hot Guy is unbuttoning his shirt, and as I watch, mesmerized, he shrugs out of it, and hands it to me. I automatically take it, because I am distracted by the sleekly muscled swimmer’s build revealed in the gray t-shirt he’s wearing under the dress shirt. It’s just ridiculous how hot Hot Guy is. Crazy ridiculous!

  Sigh!

  My heart is doing some unusual things right now, but let me tell you, I’m not the kind of girl whose head gets turned by every cute guy that walks past. But this guy is beyond the everyday normal. He’s like, walk out of every woman’s fantasy gorgeous.

  I’ve got to stop staring at him.

  I clear my throat, and force myself to look up at his oh my god flawless face. “Thanks,” I say, holding the shirt up. “Um. If you want this shirt back, I guess I could mail it to you.”

  But Hot Guy shakes his head slightly. “Don’t worry about it.” He opens the door to Taco Bill’s, and holds it open for the elderly couple that totters out.

  Oh, it’s the old guy that I threw Matt’s present at! He sees me and shoots me a bushy glare. “Hooligan!” he huffs, shuffling past me.

  “I’m so sorry!” I call after him, but he just throws a hmph over his shoulder.

  I am even more humiliated, if that’s possible. I sneak a glance at Hot Guy. He looks amused, his beautiful mouth curved up in an adorable smirk. I’m so glad the odds are I’ll never see him again.

  “Hope your day gets better,” he says, and disappears into Taco Bill’s.

  Thanks, Hot Guy. I’m pretty sure it can’t get much worse.

  ******

  Chapter 3

  I head straight to Lauren’s. She makes her weird soup, while I go on a tirade, verbally assaulting Matt and Rachel with every bad name I can think of. Sometime during this madness, Lauren’s twelve year old twin sisters slink into the kitchen and watch me curse and fume with wide fascinated eyes. I don’t get really mad often, but when I do, I tend to go a little bit Hulk. Ish.

  Two hours later, I feel better. Sort of. I go home to take a shower, and I cry a little under the soothing hot spray. Soon, my tears dry up and I begin to feel really stupid. And pissed. I keep thinking of Matt and Rachel together, sneaking around and rubbing their hands together gleefully...laughing, kissing, having sex…ugh!

  I shut the water off with more force than necessary, and dry myself off vigorously. I wrap my towel around my body and stomp into my room, muttering to myself.

  “Cheating ass bastard!” Saying it out loud is weirdly cathartic.

  “What was that, Violet?”

  I scream and jump awkwardly in the air. My mom’s sitting on my bed! She’s looking at me with a funny little half-frown on her face. Did she hear what I said?

  “W-what?! Nothing!” I stammer out, clutching the towel against me. “I was just…rapping. I like to sometimes, when I think I’m alone. What—what are you doing here in my room, on my bed? What’s, uh, going on?”

  “I didn’t know you rapped,” Mom says, confused by my babbling. “That’s…weird. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you might want to wear this for dinner.”

  She holds up a long dress in a sapphire blue for my inspection. The dress is one of those wraparound styles, with a shimmery leaf pattern embellishing the clingy fabric. It’s very pretty.

  My poor mother. She has great taste and loves clothes, and she’s stuck with me, the girl who puts comfort above fashion. Half of the shirts in my closet are from the box of clothes my dad left behind when he dumped us for the ho on that dating site. It’s not that I’m a fashion clown. Right after I lost a bunch of weight, I’ll admit that my outfits tended to be showy and slutty. But after a short while, the thrill of the attention wore off, and now I just don’t care. I got tired of the middle aged guys eye licking me. Pervs.

  “It’s nice,” I say to Mom, because she’s beaming excitedly at me. “But I was thinking about wearing jeans and a nice shirt. I don’t want to give your fiancée the wrong impression that I’m some kind of proper young miss. I mean, think of how disappointed he’ll be when he finds out the truth.”

  “Hm, you’re probably right. But I’m sure Bill will get over it.” Mom drapes the dress over my crossed arms. “I know you’re going to look so beautiful in it! Did I tell you how much I love your hair? The new color really makes your complexion glow.”

  “Thanks.” I sigh quietly. “If I wear a dress, I’ll have to shave my legs.”

  Mom tucks a lock a smooth blonde hair behind her ear and looks at me in surprise. “Don’t you shave every day, anyway?”

  “Well, yeah, but most days I’m not thorough. I just run the razor over my legs really quick if there’s noticeable stubble. But I don’t check to see if they’re really smooth.”

  “Why do they need to be smooth tonight?” Mom asks with a shrug. “Do you plan on anyone touching your legs? I suppose there could be some cute waiters at the restaurant.”

  “Mom.” I roll my eyes. “You know I only let valets feel me up. It’s the bow ties.”

  Mom grins. “Oh, well, then you’re in luck. We’re going to the Four Seasons. I’m pretty sure the waiters there wear bowties.”

  “Ugh! We’re going somewhere fancy? Is this the start of a new trend now that you’re marrying into money? Are we going to have to start pretending we’re classy people?”

  “Hey!” Mom points a finger at me, looking hurt. “You don’t need to be rich to be classy. Don’t you think I’m classy?”

  How can I disagree with her? Especially when she’s got her finger halfway up her nose? Yeah, she’s got a really weird sense of humor.

  “Thanks, Mom, that’s very attractive. What a role model. You’re going to wash your hands, right?”

  Mom springs up from the bed. “Of course. That’s what classy people do,” she sniffs as she glides by me.

  She comes back in while I’m slipping my robe on. “You keep distracting me, V. I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  I immediately tense as I turn to her. Mom looks nervous—she’s not meeting my eyes. Oh, God, please don’t let it be the cancer…

  She plops back down on my bed again and picks up my pillow, settling it down on her lap and then resting her arms over it. My muscles stiffen painfully as I wait for her to say the dreaded words.

  “Promise you won’t think I’m skanky.”

  “Oh, my God! I’m so—wait, what?”

  Mom doesn’t look up. And is she blushing? She takes a deep breath, and I get another kind of feeling. “Bill and I—”

  “No, stop!” I put both hands up in a stopping gesture. “I so don’t need to know that you two have had sex!”

  “What?” Mom looks almost as horrified as I do. “Violet! That’s not what I was going to say! Trust me, you would be the last person I would confide in about my sex life.”

  I’m nearly weak with relief. “Oh, thank God. Same here.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “Excuse me, missy? You have a sex life?”

  “No, some of us are still pure, here.” Not like Matt and Rachel, the sex-crazed traitors.

  Mom looks at a loss for a second. Then she shakes her head. “Anyway, what I was going to say…well, Bill…he surprised me with an early wedding present—an extended tour of Europe for our honeymoon!”

  My jaw drops open. “Mom! That’s fantastic! You’ve always wanted to go to Europe!”

  She nods excitedly. “Yes, it would be a dream come true. England, France, Italy…can you imagine? But the thing is, Bill’s
got a really important business merger, like, right after the wedding, so he wouldn’t be able to take a day off, let alone a month. So…” She pauses and looks at me uncertainly. “He was thinking that maybe the best idea would be to go on our honeymoon before the wedding. It makes sense, especially with the house undergoing renovations, and right now it’s Jane’s slow season—I could work on her website from anywhere, and, you know we hired that wedding planner, and she said that she can communicate with me via text and email, she does it all the time with some of her other clients, and…”

  Mom has a tendency to babble when she’s nervous. I wonder how long she’d go on like this if I let her?

  “Well, that’s great,” I finally interject when she pauses for a breath. "It sounds like you have everything worked out. And you totally have my blessing, if that’s what you were after.”

  “Thank you,” she says, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “That means a lot.”

  I shrug. “You deserve it.” I flop down onto my comfortable puffy desk chair. “When do you leave?”

  “Well…next week.” Mom peers over at me. “So I talked to Jane, and she said she’d love to have you stay over at her place. Would that be okay with you? Because if it’s not, I can—”

  “Wait, why can’t I stay here? I’m seventeen, I don’t drink or do drugs. You can trust me—I’m boring.”

  “I do trust you, Violet,” she says. “But it’s not like I’m away for the weekend. I’ll be gone for a whole month, in Europe. I couldn’t enjoy myself if you were here alone. And,” she continues when I start to protest. “we have to completely moved out of this apartment by the end of the month, remember?”

  I get a sudden slap to the face by reality. We’re not going to live in this crappy apartment, anymore. I’m going to have a rich stepfather! Our lives are going to change drastically.

  Oh, yeah, and I’ve been cheated on and dumped by my first boyfriend. Yes, Matt was my first boyfriend. I’m a late bloomer.

  It’s all a tad overwhelming.

  Mom’s still talking. “No, it’s fine,” I say. “I’ll stay with Jane. She’s cool, and we get along pretty good. Besides, it’s only for a month, right?”