Chapter 15Rayne

“J

aycee, are you in love with Barrett?” I drop the question on her out of the blue as we’re walking down the sidewalk toward the coffeehouse where we’re meeting the other girls for our monthly girls’ outing. One weekend each month they have karaoke night, and the whole town shows up. It’s one of the few times Mama doesn’t create a huge scene, partly because I’m with the girls and partly because the whole town’s eyes are on me. Sharon Ables, one of Mama’s oldest, dearest friends, owns the place. If I screw up, she’ll know about it before I get home.

Jaycee looks at me as if I’ve asked her to explain differential math and twists her bracelet on her wrist. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

I squinch my eyes together wondering what her being in love would have to do with me being mad. “No. Why?”

“You found out I invited the boys tonight, didn’t you?” Before I can answer, she defends herself. “I know it’s supposed to be girls’ night, but the boys are downtown anyway watching football, so I told them to stop by if they had time. Nothing big. Just low-key.”

I laugh at her doe-eyed explanations. “Jaycee, I’m not mad. I’m just wondering how close you’ve gotten with Barrett?”

She presses her lips together in a line and makes a smacking sound as she separates them. “I told him I love him. And before you say anything, I know what you’re thinking. ‘Jaycee’s said that before.’ This time it’s different. I mean it.”

For once, I actually believe her. She’s nervous, and she’s never nervous about boys. “I’m happy for you.”

Her shoulders relax, and a smile floods her face as she grabs my arm. “What about you and Preston? Any love talk yet?”

“No. I don’t… we’re not…” I shake my head and look down.

“Wait. Barrett’s told me how into you Preston is. I’ve seen it. You’re sabotaging this.” She wags her finger in my face as she continues, “Your mama’s in your head. You always do this—get excited about something, Mama gives you flak and then you’re standing in your own way. You better figure it out before you ruin a good thing.”

I shrug my shoulders then let them slump. “I’m open… really. I’m just not… feeling it…”

I might as well have hit Jaycee square in the face with a pie. She pulls back like I just took a swing at her. “How do you not feel it with Preston? I mean, look at him.”

“I didn’t say he’s not hot. It’s not clicking, sparking, something…”

She stops in the middle of the sidewalk, grabs both my arms and turns me toward her. “How far have y’all gone?”

“Kissing.” The heat rushes to my cheeks even telling her.

“Kissing?” She juts her head towards mine, eyes bulging. “Mama been chaperoning your dates?”

“No. I don’t… want to…” I stammer, staring at the sidewalk.

“Preston’s had lots of girlfriends before, so he’s expecting…” Now she sounds like Mama.

I glower at her. “I don’t care what he expects. I’m not doing something major trying to feel something for a guy.”

“I’m not suggesting you do, but you need to put yourself out there. Get out of your own head for a change.” She pushes her index finger into the middle of my forehead and continues, “Do this. It’s a little psychological test I read about in my magazine. Close your eyes. Imagine you’re curled up on a couch, snuggled up to your man. The movie on TV is boring, and so you look up at him, ready to spice things up.” She snaps her fingers in my face. “Quick! Who’re you with? Who’s the guy? Preston, right?”

Wrong. So wrong. But I know the face. The scruffy man-hair. The smile. The eyes. “Uh… sure. Preston.”

“See? Everything’s telling you to chill out and enjoy. Be patient. The fireworks you want will come. Quit thinking about it so much and get in there and seal the deal.” She laces her arm through mine and pulls me to the coffeehouse entrance.

Maybe she’s right. We walk through the glass door, the bell on the handle jingling with the movement. A wake-up bell. Am I scared and sabotaging my own happiness? Am I using Gage as a buffer between me and Preston? It’s a possibility. But it’s also probable I’m falling for Gage instead. And if the latter is true, I’ve just eclipsed Mama as the most screwed-up person in this town.

It’s after eight o’clock before the boys get there. Barrett comes in first, scans the crowd, then waves like crazy when he spots us. Preston’s next, his smile as big and gorgeous as always. Trevor follows with a few guys from the football team, and at the tail-end is Gage with clenched jaw and hooded eyes. I know what he’s thinking—too many people, too much noise, too much chaos.

Every chair in the place is occupied so the boys grab their drinks and join us, taking our seats then pulling us down into their laps. On my left, Jaycee wiggles around on Barrett, leaning back over and over to shower him with kisses. On my right, Ainsley snuggles into Trevor as they drink coffee. Preston’s beneath me, but we’re not as lovey-dovey as everyone else. I lean back into him, pressing my back into his chest, my cheek smooshed to his. He nuzzles my neck and plants a kiss there, soft and gentle. I smile at him then glance over my shoulder.

Gage is right behind us, his Styrofoam to-go cup still untouched. He sits on the edge of a wooden table, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees so no one can use him as a seat cushion. I’m glad, too, because seeing some girl sitting atop him would crush me. At least this way, I can keep him all to myself. He looks up at me and mouths “hi.”

I mouth back, “hi” and smile just as I hear my name over the speaker. I jerk my head forward to the announcer who’s definitely saying my name. “Rayne Davidson. Where are you? You’re next!”

Jaycee giggles loudly and claps her hands together. “Your mama knew what she was doing with all those church solos.” She leans in close to my ear. “You can thank me later. Go seal the deal.” She winks and nudges me forward, but I move as if my legs are made of lead. I so don’t want to do this. Church solos are one thing. Karaoke solos in front of my friends and tons of other people are something else.

I must look squeamish because Preston runs over to give me a hug. “Just relax. You got this. Focus on something that calms you.” His encouragement might go on hiatus after I puke on his shoes.

I mumble “thanks” and head towards the guy running the machine to select my music. He shakes his head. The selection’s already been made and is ready to go. Jaycee’s choice. From the corner of my eye, I see her smiling. This can’t be good. All I can imagine is singing some crude song full of sexual innuendo. She’d so pick that for me.

I sit down on the wooden stool, hard and unforgiving, although I’m not doing much to make it more comfortable. My legs are tense, my arms rigid, and my stomach in knots—a sea of faces, both familiar and new, stare back at me. What did Preston say? Pick a focus point? My heart bumps hard against my ribs as their eyes scrutinize my every move. The first notes play, slow and easy, so unlike the booty-grinding music I expect.

When the song title flashes on screen, I get it. “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” Jaycee loves Elvis, but this is more than that. She’s pushing, manipulating the situation. I should’ve never told her earlier I wasn’t feeling all the sparks with Preston. She’s on a mission to light the fire, starting with me singing this song to him. “Seal the deal”—her words exactly.

As the bouncy ball on screen ticks off the last instrumental notes, it’s go-time. With the first words, I scan for a friendly face to help me focus on the words and the feelings I need to invest in this. And just like that, he’s there. Handsome Preston, with his dazzling grin and chocolate brown eyes, leans forward and awaits my song. And over his left shoulder, Gage sits upright on the tabletop, arms folded over his chest. And he’s staring at me. Right at me. And I stare back. And with every word that pours out, I invest in the connection. Locked in tight.

I sing to him, and I can’t stop myself. And the screwed-up thing is everyone thinks I’m zeroed in on Preston—except Gage.

What scares me is I’m on autopilot, the song coming from my subconscious because as the words flow, I’m not looking at the screen or thinking about the song. I remember our competitive run. I recall hanging out in his room. I picture his tattoo. I daydream about the way he looked in those boxers. It’s all Gage, no Preston.

Exactly how would any of that work anyway? I can’t date one brother and have feelings for another.

The song ends to thunderous applause. Preston’s waiting at our table when I get back, and he jumps up, bends me backwards and plants a huge kiss on my lips to the crowd’s cheers. His arms crush into my waist, and I squeeze back, but when I open my eyes, Gage is watching. He smiles and nods, so formal-like, and when I get upright on my feet and smile back, Gage stands up, throws some money on the table and walks out.