Then
It was a bitter January afternoon – the kind where the wind whips icy rain into your face and the crisp air bites against your exposed skin like it has actual teeth. My jacket was from two seasons ago, so worn out it barely shielded me from the elements or retained any warmth. The ripped-out knees of my skinny jeans sent chills racing up my legs.
I always laughed lightly to myself whenever I saw the wealthy girls at my school wearing pairs of $150 designer jeans that had been purposefully ripped to shreds with the help of a manufacturer. They were paying good money to look like war-refugees, while I would’ve just liked to own set of pants I didn’t have to patch or turn into cut-off shorts when I grew too tall for them – ironic, wasn’t it?
I kept my head down against the spitting rain as I walked along the side of the road. I’d missed my bus again, which meant I was in for either a long wait in the rain until the next one rolled around at five, or a lengthy, drizzly trek through muddy puddles. I opted to walk, hoping it would get me there faster.
Ms. Ingraham, my spring session advanced Latin teacher, had kept my entire class after school today because she was convinced no one had done the mandatory reading – or maybe it was just because she was a lonely old cat lady with no one to spend time with other than the students she coerced via detention sessions. Regardless of her reasons, I knew she was going to be a pain in the ass, and it was only the second day of classes.
The old bat was not only responsible for the hand cramp I had after conjugating approximately 17 million Latin verbs, but was also to blame for me missing my bus and being late to see Jamie at the hospital. He’d been there for almost three weeks this time, recovering from a particularly rigorous surgery on his left femur where more cancer had begun to grow.
He was supposed to start physical therapy any day now. The doctors were hopeful that he’d walk again within a few months of recovery, so long as the cancer didn’t return. Unfortunately, their optimism was likely unrealistic. The sad fact that everyone knew but didn’t say out loud was that with a cancer this aggressive, regrowth was an inevitability rather than a possibility. It was only a matter of time before Jamie was back at the hospital for another bone graft or, if things got really bad, a full amputation of his left leg.
They’d wanted to amputate this time, but Jamie had begged them to try to save his leg. It was riskier, but worth it, according to Jamie.
“No risk, no reward, Lux,” he’d tell me, smiling through his pain.
I felt my numb lips twitch up into a reluctant grin, and pressed on through the downpour.
He wasn’t responding to his chemotherapy drugs anymore, so the surgeons were taking a more aggressive approach. Limb-salvage surgeries weren’t always effective, but since Jamie was young and relatively strong, they said it was his best option. They didn’t say out loud that it was his only option, but I was smart enough to read between the lines of their sugar-coated prognoses, worried expressions, and hushed whispers.
So was Jamie.
He hated being at the hospital alone, cooped up in bed and unable to move, so I tried to visit as often as possible. I didn’t like the thought of him lying there contemplating death or the possibility that his surgery wouldn’t be a success.
My parents had picked up double shifts to pay the rapidly accumulating medical bills, so they weren’t around much to visit him. Even if they hadn’t been working, though, I wasn’t sure their presence would’ve done Jamie any good. We’d never been as close to our parents as we had to one another — perhaps because they’d never seemed too interested in getting to know us. But I couldn’t complain – not when they’d both been working nonstop to keep our house out of foreclosure and to cover Jamie’s basic medical care.
Truthfully, it was silly for me worry about him getting lonely. With Jamie’s handsome features – he pulled off the bald look really well – and sense of humor, he’d charmed the nurses within days of his first hospitalization. They all checked in on him and fussed over him like a son, bringing him extra pudding cups and sharing all the hospital gossip whenever they stopped by. It was hysterical and mildly inappropriate, but I was grateful he wasn’t alone.
Caught up in my thoughts, I didn’t hear the car approaching until it was far too late to move off the road. It whizzed by on my left, careening through a puddle at nearly forty miles per hour and dousing me completely with a torrent of dirty rainwater. I gasped, startled by the sudden icy downpour, and immediately began shivering as the chilly winds plastered my now-sodden coat and jeans to my body.
“Asshole!” I screamed after the car, shaking a fist in the air as it drove away.
My eyes widened when the car abruptly slammed to a halt about fifty yards up the road, its red brake lights brightly illuminated in the overcast sky. It was a nice car – a two-seater Mercedes hard top convertible, from what I could tell at this distance. I watched in horror as the white reverse lights flipped on and the car began backing down the vacant roadway, toward me.
Shit. I was so going to get beat up.
Here I was, walking alone on an empty roadway with no cellphone and no means of escape. Come to think of it, I was pretty sure this was the exact plot-line from the beginning of a horror movie I’d watched last Halloween…
Defenseless, isolated, idiot girl? Check.
Overcast, dark, stormy day? Check.
Psycho-killer in an expensive automobile? Check.
Dammit. Jamie was going to be so pissed at me when they found my body in an alligator-infested swamp somewhere in bum-fuck Florida.
When the Mercedes came to a stop next to me, I held my ground and stared menacingly at the darkly tinted passenger window. Whatever this jerk thought, I wasn’t going down without a fight. I was Lux Kincaid – badass bitch extraordinaire, albeit in a five-foot-four, blonde pixie-like package.
Ha! I was so dead.
The window slid down silently, sending beads of water streaming off the shiny black passenger door and ultimately revealing the asshole’s face. I had to clamp my lips together to keep them from falling open when the driver came into view.
Better than a road-ragey psycho killer, but not by much.
Sebastian Covington sat behind the wheel – honestly, the last person I’d expected to see. He was the most popular guy in the junior class, in part due to his looks – which even I had to admit were gorgeous, in an Abercrombie model sort of way – but mostly because his father was a U.S. Senator. I may have been the Typhoid Mary of my class, but even social rejects would recognize him on sight. Plus, I’d noticed today that he was in my Latin class. It had been hard to miss him, as there were only about twenty students enrolled, but since we sat on opposite sides of the room and had never previously interacted in the three years we’d both been attending Jackson County High, I very much doubted I’d crossed his radar.
“Hey,” he called out the window, his eyes apologetic. “I’m so sorry about that – I took that turn a bit fast and didn’t see you in time. I’m still getting the hang of driving this baby.” His voice was nearly bashful as he gently stroked the leather steering wheel.
Translation: Daddy bought me a new, expensive toy and I almost ran you down you with it… Sorry!
Great apology, rich boy.
I rolled my eyes, turned away, and began walking again. To my utter annoyance, the car crept forward, keeping pace with my strides.
“Ouch, okay, the silent treatment. I guess I deserve that.” I heard the sound of light laugher. “But why don’t you ignore me from inside the car? It’s warm and dry in here and I can tell you’re freezing.”
I cast a glance over my shoulder at him, trying to see if he was serious.
“I mean it, get in. I’ll give you a ride home,” he volunteered. “It’s the least I can do.”
I drew to a stop, considering his offer with raised brows. It was another half hour walk until I’d reach the hospital, and I was turning into a human popsicle with each passing minute. A glance up at the heavy clouds overhead assured that the rain wouldn’t be letting up any time soon. I didn’t want to accept a ride from him, but I also didn’t want be out in the cold anymore. And, if I wanted to make it to see Jamie at all today, it was my best option.
With a martyred sigh, I reached out and grasped the door handle. Yanking it open, I smirked as I settled my sopping wet jeans onto his pristine tan leather seats. Prince Sebastian over there would probably have a conniption if I ruined his flawless interior. I set my backpack on the floor by my feet, crossed my arms over my chest, and looked up at him defiantly.
To my surprise, he didn’t look even mildly fazed by moisture that was currently causing irreparable damage to his seats. His expression was open, friendly even. I quirked one eyebrow at him, wanting to ask what the heck he was staring at.
“Sebastian Covington,” he prompted, holding out his hand for me to shake. Or maybe kiss. You never knew when it came to rich people and their weird rules of etiquette.
“I know who you are,” I muttered, clicking my seatbelt into place and turning to face the windshield so I wouldn’t stare at him. He was beautiful – easily prettier than most of the girls in our grade. His cheekbones were prominent, offsetting a pair of stunning green-gold eyes that seemed altogether too honest and warm to be genuine. They set me on edge, those fathomless eyes – the sincerity they conveyed seemed to me like a mask, put in place so no one would look too close or see the secrets they guarded. His jawline was so chiseled it was almost ridiculous. He was even better looking up close than from across a classroom – that realization made my stomach churn with nausea and brought an unstoppable flush to my cheeks.
“Not gonna return the favor?” he asked me, nodding down at his hand, which was still hanging outstretched in the air between us.
“Do you always feel the need to torture your victims with chit-chat after nearly running them down in the street?” I asked quietly, watching the rain droplets trickle in slow paths down the windshield.
“Fine, common courtesy be damned.” Sebastian laughed, shifting the car into drive. “But it’s all right, you don’t have to tell me. I already know your name, Lux.”
That had my attention. I swiveled my head around to look at him.
“Ah, now I’ve intrigued you.” He smiled over at me. “Relax, I’m not a stalker. You’re in my Latin class right?”
I nodded, my eyes still narrowed on him.
“Kind of hard to miss a name like ‘Lux,’” he pointed out, shrugging. “Especially in Latin.”
I didn’t respond, and he fell silent. We drove for about five minutes, the rain falling on the windshield in a soothing patter that soon had me fighting off waves of drowsiness. I’d gotten only a few hours of sleep the night before, as I’d been up most of the night working a late shift at Minnie’s, the local diner where I picked up a few shifts each week. By the time I’d dragged myself home, it had been past midnight, and I’d still had two hours of homework to get through before finally collapsing into bed.
“Not a big talker, huh?”
My eyes, which were drooping down to half-mast, snapped back open at the sound of his voice. “Sorry to disappoint,” I mumbled, moving my hands up and down to rub warmth back into my frozen arms.
“Oh, shit, I really am an asshole,” he muttered, reaching forward to flip on the heat. Hot air exploded out of the vents, immediately warming me. Before I knew what was happening, he’d pulled off onto the shoulder, put the car in park, and was shrugging out of his tan cable knit sweater, leaving only a thin t-shirt on his torso. “Here,” he said, offering the sweater to me.
“Oh, no.” I blushed, staring at the garment with wide eyes. “That’s not necessary, really.”
“Just take the damn sweater, ” he ordered, clearly not used to being told no. “You’re shivering.”
I nodded, meeting his eyes fully for the first time as I reached hesitantly across the console to take the sweater. His gaze was intent as it moved over my face, studying my features as though I were a puzzle he wanted to solve.
I turned away, stripped off my waterlogged jacket and tossed it on top of my backpack, leaving me in a damp black t-shirt that was plastered to my torso like a second skin. Leaning back in my seat, I glanced over at him and caught him blatantly staring at my chest.
Boys were so predictable — and apparently boobs were boobs, regardless of social class boundaries.
Rolling my eyes, I smiled at the thought as I slipped his sweater over my head. It was still warm from his body, and it smelled like him – a heady masculine cocktail of aftershave and expensive cologne. Automatically, I inhaled deeply, committing his scent to memory. His cologne probably cost more than I made all week working at the diner, and I would’ve resented that fact on principle had it not smelled so goddamn good.
Plus, he’d given me his sweater. I was bitchy, but not unreasonable.
I turned to him and our eyes met, a look of understanding passing between us. “Thanks,” I whispered, not knowing what else to say. Several moments passed in silence, the air between us becoming charged, electric, with each passing second. I wanted to tear my eyes from his to break the intensity of the moment, afraid he was seeing straight through me with that unwavering stare.
After a small eternity, Sebastian nodded, swallowing roughly before reaching across the center console. As his hand extended into my space, I forced myself not to flinch back from his touch. Our eyes still locked, I felt his fingers thread softly through the thick strands of hair at the base of my neck. His fingers skimmed the sensitive skin there, gently tugging my long hair up from where it was trapped beneath his bulky sweater. When his arm lifted, the damp waves tumbled free and fell midway down my back.
With unhurried fingers, he skimmed through the strands from the crown of my head down to the tips of each curl, his eyes following the movement of his hand as if mesmerized. I inhaled sharply when his fingers dropped down to brush the small of my back, but didn’t pull away from his touch, entranced by the strange intimacy of a moment between strangers.
An involuntary exhale of air slipped between my lips, breaking the silence. Sebastian abruptly dropped his hand, his eyes seemed to clear of the haze, and he cleared his throat as he turned back to face the road. Pulling off the shoulder, we drove in silence for another five minutes before he spoke again. I didn’t know what he was thinking – I wasn’t even sure what I was thinking. All I knew was that my skin still tingled where his fingers had grazed, and I could still feel the weight of his eyes tracing over my features, as though their path had burned into my skin and marked me deep beneath the surface.
I tried to slow my racing heart as I watched the trees fly by outside the passenger window. Soft classical music – an intriguing choice for a high school boy – whispered through his speakers and lulled us back into safer waters.
“So are you going to tell me where I’m driving anytime soon or do I have to guess?” He laughed, trying to lighten the inexplicably heavy mood. “Not that I mind, really. Just wondering whether you had a destination, or were out walking in the rain for fun.”
“Oh!” I exclaimed, slapping my forehead with an open palm. I could feel my cheeks heating as an embarrassed blush overtook my face. “I’m sorry, I’m an idiot. Can you please drop me off at Jackson Medical Center?”
He looked over at me curiously but didn’t question my odd choice of destination. With a nod, he merged onto Main Street – which, in the one-horse town that was Jackson, housed every restaurant and shop on a single strip – and we wound through the streets toward the local hospital.
“What song is this?” I whispered, not wanting to break the silence but desperate to know the name of the hauntingly beautiful melody coming from his speakers.
“It’s by a composer named Tomaso Vitali — it’s the Vitali Chaconne,” he said, looking over at me with raised eyebrows. “You like classical music?”
“Not particularly,” I murmured, straining to listen as the violin crescendoed in an achingly sweet climax of strings. I’d never heard anything like it before. “But this is… I don’t have words for what this is,” I whispered, utterly overtaken by the music.
“I know what you mean. I feel the same way.” Sebastian cleared his throat roughly. “Some people don’t get music. How it can take you away from a place or a moment you don’t want to be anymore, and transport you somewhere else entirely. Somewhere better.” He blushed, as if embarrassed by his own admission or worried that he’d revealed something too personal.
“Do you play?” I asked.
“Every day,” he admitted, laughing softly.
“What instrument?”
“Piano,” he said, smiling to himself. “My mother would’ve preferred violin, but she thought I wouldn’t have the discipline for it.”
Somehow I doubted that. Sebastian didn’t strike me as the undisciplined type, but I wasn’t about to question him.
“I’d love to learn, someday,” I mused softly, knowing that it wasn’t a possibility. Music lessons were expensive and, even if I won the lottery and could somehow purchase a piano, the giant instrument would take up the entirety of my tiny bedroom. I grinned as the ridiculous image of me sleeping on top of a grand piano each night popped into my head – my pillow and blanket sliding against the glossy black wood as I tried to get comfortable.
“I could teach you,” Sebastian offered casually, as though that was an actual possibility. I could only imagine what his popular posse would think of him hanging out with Lux Kincaid. I held in my snort and managed to nod.
“Mhm, maybe,” I muttered noncommittally, looking out the window.
Was I actually having a normal conversation with the senator’s son? I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around that fact. I didn’t look back at him until we were pulling to a stop in front of the hospital entrance.
“So… I guess this is it.” Sebastian shifted the car into park and turned to face at me.
“Guess so,” I said, gripping the door handle like a lifeline. I didn’t know what to say to this beautiful boy, who talked about music and made me smile when nothing in my life seemed worth being happy about. “Thanks for nearly running me over. It was real fun.”
“Anytime. It was my pleasure.” He laughed.
“Goodbye, Sebastian,” I said, getting out of the car.
“See you in class, Lux.”
Sure, he’d see me. But we both knew we’d never talk like this again. We were from different worlds, and the reality was that the white-trash girl in the ripped up jeans simply didn’t mix well with mansions and Mercedes. It was a shame, I thought, walking through the doors. For a moment, there, I could’ve sworn we’d connected on a basic human level. Sitting in his car in the rain, everything else had fallen away and we’d seemed like the only two in the world.
I knew better than to think it could last. Tomorrow in class, he’d ignore my presence and it would be as if it had never happened. All would be right in the world. I ignored the pang of loneliness in my chest, forcing a smile on my face as I thought ahead to Jamie.
I resolutely did not look back as the automatic glass doors slid shut behind me and, thus, had no way of knowing that Sebastian’s watchful eyes followed my retreating form until I rounded a corner and faded from his view.