HALLMARK SHOULD REALLY MAKE
A CARD FOR THESE THINGS
Saturday, 9:08 P.M.
I made it to Zander’s blue door way too soon. I hadn’t even finished prepping my apology speech. Not that it mattered. The second Zander appeared in the entryway, every word, every syllable I knew deserted me.
We stood there for a long moment, staring at each other like strangers.
“Goose. Let her in, man. It’s cold out there.” Stevie nudged Zander out of the way, ushering me inside. Her eyes were red and smudged with mascara. I wondered if she’d been crying.
“So, um, where’s your dad?” I kicked off my booties and left them by the door.
“He went out.” Stevie ran a hand through her hair. “He was really upset last night. I think we might’ve screwed up.”
Zander cleared his throat. “What are you doing here? It’s not really the best time.” The space between us was palpable.
“I came by to apologize.”
He didn’t say anything, just stood hunched in the same outfit he’d worn to the dance the night before. His shirt wasn’t wrinkled, though, and I wondered if he’d even slept.
“Here. Sit down, at least.” Stevie shoved Zander onto the couch, and he scooted to the far end. I dropped where I was.
“I’m not expecting you to understand why we—” I looked to Stevie. She slid onto the coffee table and gave me a slight nod. “—why I wrecked Gravity’s shot to play the dance. And I’m definitely not expecting you to forgive me. I did a really stupid thing, and I didn’t even take the time to think about what it would mean.”
“No. You didn’t,” Zander said to the floor.
“I know. And I know this is the second time I’ve let you down in a major way, and I can’t expect you to keep forgiving me.” My toes curled into the scratchy rug. I expected the patterned fibers to blur at any second, but somehow my eyes remained dry. Maybe I didn’t have it in me to cry any more.
“I know, Zander. That’s what I just said.”
“And I don’t get to say it, too? That what you did was totally unfair? That it’s not okay that you went behind my back?” The tendons in Zander’s neck throbbed every time he opened his mouth. “You know what burns me up the most? We’ve already been through this once! Why can’t you trust me?”
“I do trust you!”
“Bull,” Zander spat. “If you really trusted me, you’d have told me what was going on! I could’ve helped you figure out a way to deal with it that didn’t involve lying or screwing over my band.”
“Our band.” An electric pulse of fear shot through me.
“Whatever. I would have understood.”
“That’s bull.” Now it was my turn to get mad. “Okay, fine. I should have been honest with you sooner. And yeah, pulling the stunt with Levi was wrong on, like, fifty levels. But don’t ever tell me you would’ve understood, Zander. Your parents are still happy.”
“She’s right, Goose,” Stevie said quietly. I’d completely forgotten she was there. “You can’t wrap your head around how crazy divorce makes you. Not unless you’ve been through it.”
Thanks, I blinked. She blinked back.
“So just because my parents are happy, I’m not allowed to be pissed about this?” Zander’s eyebrows shot up.
“That’s not what we’re saying, Goose, and you know it.”
“We? Since when are you guys on the same team?”
Zander’s blatant irritation fueled me. Where there had only been fear and remorse, now there were tiny sparks of anger. “Wait. You wanted us to like each other! And now that we do, you’re mad about that, too?”
“Hold up, hold up. Who said anything about liking each other?” Stevie jumped in. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Simon.”
Even Zander should have smiled at that.
He didn’t.
“Whatever. I’m out.” Zander started to get up. In a flash, Stevie’s palms shot out and collided with his chest. He fell back, surprised. “What was that for?”
“For being a closed-minded jerk.” Stevie stood up. “You at least have to hear her out. I’m going upstairs, and you’re gonna sit here and listen if it kills you.”
“I just need a minute. And then I’ll go,” I promised.
Stevie flicked her hair over her shoulder and made a point of knocking one of Zander’s sheet music binders off the table before stalking up the green ladder that led to one of the loft’s sleeping areas.
Zander bent over and retrieved his binder. “Okay. I’m listening.”
“I don’t know what else to say,” I blurted out. Instantly, I regretted it. Now was my chance. Zander had actually agreed to hear me plead my case, and all I could think of was I don’t know what else to say? “I just wanted to tell you I was sorry and to explain.”
“Stevie explained.” His voice was raspy.
“Oh.”
“And she told me some other stuff, about what it was like when her folks split and stuff. She’d never told me any of that stuff before.” For the first time, he looked up at me. His eyes were conflicted. “You never tell me any of that. You never talk about your dad.”
I closed my eyes. “I don’t talk about him to anybody.”
“Yeah, well. I’m not just anybody.”
“Well, I didn’t know you wanted to know about any of that stuff. It’s not exactly a fun topic.”
“Of course I want to know!” He leaned forward. “It’s part of your life, part of what, like, makes you tick and stuff. And I wanted to know those things because I liked you, Kacey. Like, really liked you.”
Liked. Past tense. Goose bumps rushed from my wrists to my shoulders.
“I liked you, too,” I said quietly.
“She still does!” Stevie yelled from upstairs.
“No one’s asking you!” I yelled back, even though she was right.
Zander didn’t say anything. Every passing second filled me with more humiliation.
“Well, I guess that’s that,” I said.
A slow Barry White song blared through the loft.
“Ow ow!” Stevie catcalled from upstairs. “Don’t you kids do anything I wouldn’t do!” She stood at the top of the green ladder, gyrating her hips like the belly dancers at that Middle Eastern restaurant Ella liked, where you couldn’t eat your hummus without some lady in a coin bra shaking her ta-tas in your face.
Zander and I hurled leather throw pillows at the ladder. They made it as far as the dining room table.
“Fine, fine.” Stevie disappeared, and the music stopped. “You lame-o’s are no fun.” She shimmied down the ladder with ease and plopped down on the couch where I’d been sitting. “So, is your mom as depressed as my dad?”
I nodded. “She’s a wreck. We messed up.”
Stevie chewed her bottom lip and nodded. “We really did.”
“But I think I might know how to fix this.” I told her about Liv’s skirt, about how the colorful fabric had ignited the beginnings of a plan.
“A skirt. You’re basing a plan on some skirt.”
“No, I’m basing the beginnings of a plan on some skirt. The rest, I need your help figuring out. But I’ll do it without you, if I have to.”
She shrugged. “Fine. I’m in. Although if they decide to get married or something, I’m going to reevaluate my position. And can we get something to eat first? I’m starved.” She jumped up and headed for the kitchen.
“I should help her—” I tried to get up, but Zander grabbed my arm.
“I, uh, I’m happy to help your mom out and stuff, if there’s a chance they’ll get back together. But other than that, I don’t know. I’m not trying to be mean or anything, I just want to be honest. Okay?”
A lump rose in my throat. “Okay.”
And then he let me go.