***

The drive back to my house is dark, long, and slow. Mr. Gibson never came back, and nothing happened. I waited for hours, alternating calling Dylan’s phone and Lora’s. Mom has a big banquet tonight at the restaurant, so I can’t call her. I don’t know why Lora isn’t answering me. I’m still not sure if I want to tell her what’s happening between Dylan and me, though I’m probably past caring what she knows. I slide low in the old flowered chair Dylan and I shared yesterday and wish for things to be different.

Lora bursts through the front door with Derrick right behind her. I almost leap out of the chair. “Have you heard from him?” I ask.

They both slump. “We were hoping you had,” Derrick says.

“Why didn’t you answer my calls?” I ask.

“Lost my phone.” Lora shrugs. “I keep changing bags, and…”

Derrick sits on the ottoman and rests his elbows on his knees. “I screwed up, Ziah. If Dylan calls, can you pass that on?”

“Did you know?” I ask.

Derrick and Lora exchange a glance. Do they think I haven’t caught on?

“I saw her, Derrick. It was your mom, right?”

“Dylan told you about Mom?” Derrick sits back watching me.

“Yeah, when…” but I let that trail off, not wanting them to know all the details.

“What’s going on between you two?” Lora asks.

Derrick waves his hand between us. “You don’t have to answer, Ziah.”

“We just…” I think about kissing him, about him teasing me for burning popcorn, and about us watching movies. “I guess we were trying for more than friends.”

Derrick closes his eyes for a second. I don’t know if this is good or bad or irritation.

Actually, he doesn’t get to be irritated. “Did you know your mom was coming? Isn’t this something you should have warned him about?” I ask.

“Ziah!” Lora snaps.

“No.” Derrick holds up his hand. “It’s fine. I tried, and he didn’t want to talk about her. I let it go because I wasn’t sure if we’d even find her. I had no idea she was coming or if I’d even found the right person. She knows where we live, obviously.”

I start blinking because I hate knowing Dylan probably feels like I shafted him the way everyone else has, and I’m mad at him for not giving me two more seconds to explain.

Derrick rests a hand on my knee. “Relax, Ziah. Dylan tends to be overdramatic.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself, not me. “It’s not your fault.”

But it is. “When he called…”

Now my voice won’t work, and I feel like a ridiculous, whiny girl. Lora sits on the arm of the chair next to me and rests her hand on my shoulder. It really just makes me feel worse.

“James was here because we were studying. It was something we set up way before Dylan and I were trying, and Dylan didn’t give me a chance to explain. I just made it all worse.” This time when I blink, the tears spill down.

“You’re a cool girl, Ziah. I’ll find him and get it all straightened out, okay?” Derrick stands up, and I realize he’s going to be around a lot. Like he’ll answer Lora’s phone sometimes, and when they have kids, he’ll be there. He’s going to be my brother-in-law. Crazy.

“Ziah, I’m gonna stick with Derrick for a few more minutes, but I’ll be back later, okay?”

I nod as they start for the door. “I’m glad you’re marrying my sister.”

Derrick stops, turns, and smiles. “So am I. Let’s hope we find my little brother in the few days before the wedding.”

And this time he’s not able to hide his worry from me.

***

My body’s tired as I flop onto my back on the bed. I’m both hopeless and desperate to make things better all at the same time. Even though I’ve really screwed up, I’m not going down without some sort of fight. At least he’ll know how I feel. I pull out my dying phone, plug it in, and start a series of texts.

ME: OK. I DON’T CARE IF YOU WANT TO HEAR FROM ME OR NOT.

Send.

ME: I MESSED UP. I SHOULD HAVE READ UR VOICE AND KNOWN IT WAS IMPORTANT. I SHOULD HAVE TOLD YOU JAMES AND I WERE TALKING & STUDYING. HE KNOWS ABOUT U. HE KNOWS I DON’T LIKE HIM.

Send.

ME: I FEEL LIKE SHIT, DYLAN. I GO FROM FEELING LIKE THE WORST PERSON ON THE PLANET TO BEING PISSED B/C U WON’T ANSWER ME.

Send.

ME: PLEASE JUST, IF UR 2 MAD OR IF THINGS SUCK 2 MUCH FOR U TO TRY TO BE W/ ME, I GET IT. I FEEL THAT THOUGHT CRUSHING ME, BUT I GET IT.

Send.

ME: NO MATTER WHAT, WILL U SEND A MSG 2 ME, THRU MY SIS OR A TEXT SO I KNOW UR OK?

Send.

ME: I’M SO SORRY. I WANT TO DO THIS WHOLE THING WITH U. I KNOW ABT UR MOM. I WANNA TALK. HELP. SMTHNG. MASTA DYLAN. PLEASE?

I hit send for what feels like the millionth time and know there’s nothing else I can do. My heart drops, and it’s like I know again, just like I knew in his driveway, that I probably lost my chance with Dylan Gibson. It hurts way worse than I expected—and I expected it to hurt bad.

Alyssa steps into my room without knocking. She’s holding a carton of Rocky Road and two spoons.

I’m so glad we’re friends again.

Twenty-Three

~Dylan~

I’ve spent the past couple days in two places: in the bed or on the deck at our house on the coast. It’s embarrassing to be in this kind of slump, and I’m thankful no one is here to see me, but the sad part is, it’s all I can do. It’s all I want to do. Still, I can’t wrap my head around this. After everything Mom did, she came back. There are no words to describe how that makes me feel, but it’s nothing compared to knowing they knew. They chose her over me. Kept it from me. What does that say about me?

And Ziah chose James.

What was she doing with me this whole time?

Putting my feet up on the wooden porch chair, I pick up my sketchbook, my eyes taking in the foaming waves in front of me. Salty air hits my skin. It reminds me of the rain when it swam around her. How she made me want to try when she knew she had James in the background.

Suddenly, I’m pissed. My hands shake as I start ripping drawings out of my book, the one of her eyes in Dad’s office building, the one of her smiling as she looked up at the wet sky. It’s so stupid, and I know it. But I can’t stop myself from ripping the pages over and over again, watching them fly away with the wind.

How long was she hanging out with James? How long was Mom back? How long were Derrick and Dad lying to me?

Totally aware I’m throwing a tantrum, I push to my feet and chuck the sketch book as far as I can. It lands at the edge of the water, one big wave away from being gone.

“Wow… good arm.”

I whip around, my heart somewhere in my throat. “Dude, warn a guy, would ya?” As much as I don’t want to admit it, I’m glad Paul’s here.

“I knew you’d be here. Just wanted to give you some time, but now we’re running out of it.” He walks over to me and leans against the railing. “So what’s up, man? You have everyone all stressed about where you are. The wedding’s tomorrow.”

“I texted Dad to let him know I’m okay.” I look over at my best friend. “You tell them I was here?” I don’t acknowledge the wedding bit. I can’t deal with that right now.

“Of course not. Bros before… you know what I mean.”

I let out a small laugh. It’s almost a real one. Then I want to kick myself in the ass. It’s almost a real one? When did I start talking like this? Thinking like this? My head is so screwed up, it’s like I’m not me anymore. I don’t do this moping shit. I don’t let people get to me. This is why I go for girls like Chastity, who only want one thing.

I turn to Paul. “Let’s get drunk.”

“Umm… okay?”

“Seriously, we haven’t partied here in a while. I know we can find some people who want to chill.” I’m pacing now. Why didn’t I think of this before? It’s the perfect way to get my mind off stuff, to get back to just having fun and being me. “A few phone calls, and we can get this place packed. Think we can get beer? Yeah, I’m sure we can. My cell’s dead, but we can call some people from home on yours. I know some people here, too.”