Chapter 18

Zack

It was crowded in Zesto's, which was surprising in the fall, but they had the best ice cream in town.

"I told you we shouldn't have come here."

I thought Hillary was complaining about the crowd—she was always complaining about something, or talking someone down, usually me—but when I followed her line of vision, Zoe stood behind the counter. I tried to hide my pleasure to save an argument, which we would no doubt be having anyway, judging by the frown on Hillary's face.

"I swear. I had no idea she worked here."

She rolled her eyes. "Uh-huh. I don't care that she works here. Or should I?"

"No. Of course you shouldn't."

I hated backing down to her. It made me feel like less of a man. Actually, it was hard for me to recognize the person I had become with her. I hadn't listened to my music in, like, forever. I was wearing clothes Hillary bought me. I had to admit, I thought they were sharp, but sometimes I wished she could be happy with what I had on. We waited in silence until we reached the front of the line.

I hadn't known Zoe had a job.

It demonstrated, clearly, how far apart we'd become. A job was a pretty big thing. I used to know exactly how many pancakes Zoe ate for breakfast in the morning, or precisely what her grade in Chemistry was. I wanted to know those things about Zoe again. And so much more. I wanted to know all the things that pained her, all the things that pleased her, all the things that pissed her off, and not be one of them. I wanted to know how she liked to be kissed, where she'd like to be kissed, and how often.

I shook myself. I was getting carried away.

Without being obvious, I kept looking at her. I couldn't help it. I needed it. She looked different, somehow, but I couldn't put my finger on it, which was irritating. She was so busy with customers I wasn't sure if she'd spotted us or not, until the people in front of us went to find a seat.

She blinked when she looked up, but smiled at me. "Oh. Hi." She nodded to Hillary, then took a deep breath. "What can I get for you today, Hillary?" I was surprised by how pleasant she was acting.

Hillary shrugged. "I don't want any of this shit."

Zoe blinked again. "A soda maybe?"

Hillary rolled a shoulder. "Yeah. Diet."

"Okay. Zack. Hi. What can I get you?" Her smile was pure sunshine. And I was a mole who hadn't seen it in a while and craved it.

"Hi. I didn't know you worked here."

"Yeah. Been here a couple of weeks."

She glanced at Hillary, then back at me. "Uhh... you want a soda, too?"

"Uhh, yeah. I'll take a soda. Mountain Dew. Make them mediums, please."

"I want a large." Hillary was looking at her nails. I frowned, then returned my gaze to Zoe.

"Okay. I guess it's a medium and a large then. And I'll take one of those Chocolate Banana-whama things."

The corners of her lips did that cute twitchy thing that I'd forgotten about. "Coming right up." She had attempted to engage Hillary, but my girlfriend, if that's what she was, wouldn't give her the time of day.

I fidgeted, trying to hold it in. Glancing at Hillary, then away. It burst out anyway. "You could at least be semi-friendly."

She brought her gaze to mine, her fingernails still held in front of her. "Why should I?" she said icily.

'Cause it's the right thing to do. And Zoe's clearly trying. I clamped my lips together.

Zoe returned with our drinks. "Here you go. I'll be back with your ice cream, Zack."

Hillary glared at her. "Straws?"

Zoe appeared flustered. "Oh. Yeah. Straws. Right. Be right back." She hustled off. I glowered at my date.

She waved her hand. "What?" She crossed her arms, cocked a hip, and leaned against the counter. "You have a problem, Zack?"

Yeah. And her name is Hillary.

"Here you go." Zoe handed us straws. "Sorry about that." Hillary snatched a straw out of her hand and turned her back to Zoe, who stood with her mouth open. Hillary tore the paper off and walked to a trashcan.

I shifted my weight to the opposite foot. "Uhh... sorry about that."

Zoe gritted her teeth, turning away. "Not your fault," she muttered. I watched her make my Banana-whama. Hillary made a big deal of jamming her straw into her cup, making the plastic lid crinkle. Then she moved the straw up and down until it squealed in protest. I counted to ten in my head. Zoe returned. "And one Banana-whama for you, sir." Her face glowed. "Will there be anything else?"

"No, thank you." I was being exaggeratedly polite for Hillary's benefit. I glanced over. She was doing a slow burn. It pleased me to no end. Perhaps a telling sign our relationship was nearing a close. It felt good to recover a scrap of my dignity.

Zoe lowered her head, chuckling softly. She bit her lip. "Uhm. That'll be..." she rang me in. "Seven-oh-two." I gave her a ten and took a bite of my ice cream while she made the change.

"Uum. This Banana-whama is sick as frick." She handed me my money, but I stuffed it in the plastic cup marked "Tips~ never necessary, always appreciated." I swear Hillary stamped her foot. I smiled and headed over to her. "Bye, Zo."

"See ya, Z-man."

I slung an arm over Hillary's shoulder, and she shrugged it off, slamming through the door with me following, after a moment of teeth gritting and mental cussing.

We had a huge blowup in the parking lot, drawing some stares. It was becoming clear to me, whether or not anything ever happened between Zoe and I, she was a part of me. A part of me that was currently making it hard to be in a relationship with another girl.

And I was tired of being owned by Hillary. Being the person she wanted me to be instead of her appreciating the person I was. And I was pretty sure she was getting tired of me, too.

* * *

Zoe

It was eight-thirty, and we closed at nine. My only co-worker for the evening, Daniel, had gone home sick, so I was closing on my own. I was glad the owner, Mr. Olava, was coming back and I wouldn't be walking out alone. I always worried Ben was lurking out there somewhere in the shadows. In fact, I almost had a mini panic attack after I told Mr. Olava I was okay with him sending Daniel home. I forgot that left me alone and vulnerable for over an hour.

I forced myself to push down the fear. I wouldn't let Ben make me a basket case. Although, to a degree, he already had. Several times, I spotted his car across the street, at work, and at home, but so far he'd kept his distance. I couldn't help but wonder how long that would last. I'd seen him a couple of times tonight, but I was too afraid to look now. My nerves were constantly ratcheted up to the point where I'd notice my hand shaking continuously. Or my eye had this annoying habit of tweaking out. It about drove me insane. And I'm certain it made me look that way.

On top of that, I found myself awake at all hours of the night, shaken from my sleep by nightmares about Ben in which I could never escape him. Strangely enough, Myles, the baby who needed a security blanket, became my security blanket. If no one else was up with him, I'd creep into his room and watch him sleep in the illumination of the nightlight. His peace was contagious. The sweet baby sounds, the way he smelled, the soft colors of his room, all of it comforted me. This tiny person, with fingers the size of parentheses, made me feel safe and secure. Or maybe his fragileness made me strong somehow. I'm not exactly sure how it worked. I only knew I felt better in there with him. A couple of times Dani found me asleep curled up on his crescent moon rug. I'd laugh it off with her, and promise myself I'd never do it again.

Even now, when I was at work, and anyone could push right through the door and I'd be alone and fairly defenseless, the thought of Myles calmed me.

But my thoughts tonight were drifting to Zack. I fluxed between a flood of warmth over how great it was to be with him, to a twitchy sort of anxiety over him. It bothered me he looked different. Had we really spent that much time apart?

It was the black, button-down shirt he wore. It made him look incredibly hot... but it wasn't very Zackie-like. And his face. He looked... sad. Or beaten down somehow.

I berated myself, as I finished wiping counters, for not being a very supportive friend. Whatever his problems were, he clearly needed someone to share them with. And, yes, even if they were Hillary-related, I needed to woman up and help him through it.

Bells above the door jingled and I whirled around, my hand over my heart.

"Hello, Zoe."

My heart raced and I tried to swallow the lump in my throat so I could breathe. He took a step toward me.

"I knew you were here alone." He studied me. "It didn't seem right, a young girl like you closing by yourself, so I came in early. Are you okay? You look white as a ghost."

I muscled the words up. "Yes. Mr. Olava. I'm fine."

A small, nervous man, he seemed upset. "I came as fast as I could. I should have made Daniel stay until I got here."

"No. Believe me. He was puking. I didn't want him here."

"He should have called earlier if he felt bad."

"It came on pretty suddenly. He thinks it might have been something he ate."

"Probably my ice cream. That kid's gonna eat me out of house and home."

I'd already figured out Mr. Olava had his favorites, and Daniel wasn't one of them. He looked around, spreading his arms out to the sides and turning in a circle. "Well, this place is immaculate. I'm glad I came over to close. There's a boy sitting on a bench outside, and I don't want you to walk out alone."

I tried to peer through the darkness, but the light on the glass made that impossible.

"Are you sure you're all right? Maybe whatever Daniel had was contagious. Have you lost weight?"

"Nah. I'm fine, Mr. Olava," I said distractedly. "I'll get my jacket." I turned away from his scrutinizing eyes. My heart pounded faster with each footstep.

Pull it together. Pull it together.

But my mind conjured scenarios in which Ben would convince Mr. Olava he was my brother and he came to take me home. Or he would whip out lurid pictures of me and show them to the poor man.

Ben would occasionally make pictures of me pop up on my computer screen at school. I don't know how he did it, but it was an effective form of intimidation. The randomness of it made it difficult for me to properly mentally prepare myself for it, other than taking a deep breath every time I opened my laptop. And the fear someone would see it was heightened by each time no one did. I'd missed several deadlines on assignments because I put off computer work to avoid the sick feeling the pictures created.

I'd figured out most of them were taken in the school locker room, which made me excessively paranoid in there. I thought I spotted hidden cameras everywhere, but when I'd investigated, I'd found none. I sought out the most isolated areas to change in, and my elaborate methods of taking off and putting on clothing drew stares, but I couldn't care less.

But a few seemed to have been taken from outside my bedroom window with a powerful camera because it was as if he was right there with me. I rubbed the chill from my arms. I never changed in my bedroom anymore and avoided walking in front of the window at all. But I stopped short of blocking it because it was my conduit to Zack, even if I wasn't using it anymore. His gift was meaningless if it couldn't be seen, and I wouldn't do that to something that remained special to me, despite our growing distance.

I ran my finger along the one scar remaining from that night with Ben, on my upper chest. I must have been dragged over a bigger rock there as the scrape was deep. Tracing it became a nervous habit. Once in the break room, I grabbed my jacket but leaned on the handle of the door for a moment before leaving, taking deep breaths in through the nose and out through the mouth. Mr. Olava would be by my side. I had nothing to fear.

Still, every fiber of my being was on alert as we approached the door. The hardest part was the light switch was a decent distance from the entrance so we had to work our way through murky areas illuminated only by outdoor light. When a head came into view over the back of the bench, my forward movement became a struggle and my breathing was strange. Drawing close enough to recognize the shape, my heartbeat tripped into a different rhythm.

"What are you doing here?"

Zach rose from the bench and turned to face us.

Mr. Olava gave him a once-over. "You know this boy, Zoe?"

"Yeah." He didn't seem put at ease. "He's my neighbor." He still didn't turn his back to lock the door. "For like, years." They continued to stare at each other. "Zack," I said in an exaggerated way, "this is Mr. Olava." I waved my hands dramatically in his direction. "Mr. Olava, this is Zack Issaacs."

Zack offered his hand. "Nice to meet you, sir."

"Issaacs? Any relation to Chrissy Issaacs?"

Zack smiled. "That's my mom."

"Really?" Mr. Olava relaxed, giving Zack's arm a good pump before turning to lock the door. "She was my nurse when I had surgery a few years back. Very nice woman and very capable nurse."

"Well, thank you. I'll tell her you said that." He stuck his hands in his letterman jacket, which was unsnapped, and looked at me. "You need a ride, or is Ben coming back to get you?"

I went cold at the sound of his name, but found my voice and gestured toward my right. "Drove myself."

Mr. Olava hesitated.

"Oh. I'll walk her to her car, sir, if you need to get going."

He looked at me. "Are you okay with that, Zoe?"

"Hmm. Oh, yes. Fine."

"All right then." He held out his hand again. "Nice meeting you, Zack."

"Thank you. Have a good night."

"You, too."

We stood staring at each other in silence as Mr. Olava walked away.

"So. You never said. What are you doing here?"

He shrugged and scratched his head. "Just thinking, I guess. Wanna join me for a few minutes?"

I couldn't help it. I scanned the street first. Not spotting Ben's car, I nodded and came around to the front of the bench. He moved over and waited for me to sit before settling back down.

"So. You got a job."

This was odd. This awkwardness between us.

"Yup."

His arm was stretched over the back of the bench between us and he drummed his fingers on it. "Like it?"

I nodded. "It's not bad."

"Good. Good." He stared at his feet. His legs were stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles.

I looked around the area, trying to think of something to say. An earlier question popped back into my head. "Why did you think Ben was picking me up?"

"I don't know. I mean, he was here. You're dating...."

"We're not dating." I shivered at the thought.

He lifted his eyebrows. "You're not?"

"No." I shook my head to emphasize the point, but I didn't want to talk about Ben. I glanced over at him. "You changed your shirt." He was wearing a Chevy T-shirt I got him for his birthday. "The other one looked nice."

He shifted, opening his body more to mine, and looked me in the eye. "I like this one."

I smiled.

Okay. Time to play supportive friend.

I leaned back, stretching my arm like his over the wood rail behind us, and accidentally touching him. The solidness of his arm caused a tingle to run through me I shook off. I twisted my body subtly so I was facing him more, but was farther away.

"So. You seemed a little... out of sorts today."

He looked at the bench between us, nodding. "Still can't get anything past you."

"And you never will."

He laughed, but it faded out quickly. Lifting his head, he looked up and down the street on the other side. "Yeah. Hillary and I were sort of in an argument."

I knew it.

I studied his profile. "I thought so. Care to talk about it?"

He sat forward, resting his arms on his muscular thighs and folding his hands together. "We're just so... different."

I fought the corners of my lips, which wanted to turn up.

Oh, wait. This is where I'm supposed to be supportive and not gloat.

I cleared my throat. Forcing the words out was like squeezing icing in a baggie when the hole wasn't cut big enough. "Sometimes that can be good."

His head came up quickly and he looked at me, surprised, I think, by my answer. He held my gaze and the feeling he created in me was so intense, I had to turn away. It was a snap, a sizzle, of electricity, though only one way. "You know." My turn to scan the other side of the street. "You fill in each other's gaps, and all that." I dragged my foot in the dirt below us, making circles.

"I guess so."

Okay. If I was going to do this, I needed to jump all in. "Maybe you need to give her way of doing things a chance."

"That's the problem," he said quickly. "We always do things her way."

"Okay." I thought about this. "Well, Zack, I don't know much about dating. I mean clearly, I know nothing about dating, but from what I understand—now, I know it doesn't seem fair—but I think sometimes girls kind of expect to get their way." I drew my legs in like him and sat forward, slightly more comfortable. "Take Hillary. She's from a rich family. Only girl. She—"

"No. She has a sister."

"She does?"

He nodded. "Several years younger than her. Her name's Sydney."

"Oh, yeah? Well, still, there's only the two of them, and they probably get served everything they want on a silver platter."

He nodded. "Hillary does for sure."

"So, that's what she's used to. She doesn't even realize she's being selfish. After a while, with the outstanding example you set, she'll grow and become more giving."

He tilted his head. "Uh-huh. Have you met Hillary?"

We both laughed. "No, man. I'm simply saying give her a chance. Remember when you first witnessed my mom and Aunt Sam analyzing music?"

"Yeah. But that was different."

I held up a hand. "No. No. It's not. What did you call it?"

A cockeyed grin slid across his face. "I don't remember."

"Bullshit. You do, too."

"I said it was unusual."

"Oh, are you kidding me right now?" I got on my knees, waving my hands dramatically in his face. "You said it was weird!" I shouted.

He shook his head, grabbing my wrists. "Unusual."

I bounced around. The little asshat! "Weird. And you know it."

He shrugged, still grinning from ear-to-ear. It looked good on him. "Weird, unusual, different... it's all the same."

I fell back on my butt awkwardly and took a breath. I brought a hand down in front of me, closing it into a fist as it descended and shutting my eyes as if to center myself, inhaling deeply. "Now. You need to give her time to—"

"She doesn't like Seether."

My jaw fell open. "I'm sorry, what?"

He looked at his nails as if disinterested. "Said 'Fine Again' sucked."

My mouth opened and closed. I couldn't fathom it. "And you're still with her?"

He bent his elbows and rested them on the back of the bench. "I told you."

I shook my head in disbelief. "'Fine Again' is arguably Seether's best song."

"I know."

I blinked. "It's fantastic whether Shaun Morgan sings it fast or whether he sings it slow. He could sing it in a box. He could sing it with a fox, and it would still be awesome."

He pointed at me. "Preacher." Then at himself, "Choir."

She didn't like Seether?

"You know. I'm trying to be a supportive friend here, and you're making it really hard."

He laughed. "It's not me."

I tried to wrap my mind around the idea of anyone not enjoying Seether.

"It may be because supportive friend is an unusual role for you."

"Yes. It's definitely odd." I coaxed my feet onto my knees, soles up, in typical yoga fashion. "Okay. I can do this." I closed my eyes and breathed in and out.

"You done yet?"

I opened one eye and growled.

He tilted his head. "That's not very Namaste-y."

I smiled and closed my eye again. "You are not helping." After a moment, I thought I had it together. "I suppose, a possibility exists, slim though it may be, someone could, like, not altogether worship Seether. It's a very sad existence, so we should be sympathetic to these wayward souls." I unwound my knees and leaned forward. "Does she at least like Panic! At The Disco?"

"She thinks Brendon Urie is hot."

I sighed. "Okay. So at least she has good taste in man meat."

He shined an invisible star on his chest. "I like to think so."

I shoved him. "Get over yourself."

"You're the one who said it."

And I meant it. For Brendon and you. And unfortunately neither of you will be mine.

The silliness vanished, replaced with something else. I thought about his kiss. Clearly a sympathy kiss. It hadn't meant anything to him. It tortured me. I looked away.

"What happened the night of Dani's accident?"

My head spun back around and my jaw tensed. We were talking about the kiss now? He dropped his gaze to the hand on my chest. I stopped tracing the scar. I didn't even realize I'd been doing it. He reached a hand out slowly, like people do when approaching a strange dog. I was mesmerized by his actions. He ran a finger along the scar, and I swallowed. He licked his lips. "What happened, Zo?"

"Uhh...." A car honked behind him and Zack turned to check what was happening. I took the opportunity to scramble to my feet. When he turned back around, I'd already placed the bench between us. "I should go. It's late. My parents have no idea where I am." I took a few steps backward.

"Wait. I told your boss I'd walk you to your car, and I'm walking you to your car." I stopped moving and he got to his feet. He scooped the jacket I'd forgotten about off the bench and handed it to me wordlessly. We walked. I had my jacket hanging over my folded arms. He jammed his hands into his pockets and loped along beside me. "Myles getting big?"

I smiled. "It's only been a couple of weeks."

He stopped and turned to look at me. "It seems like longer. I miss you, Zoe." His voice was soft.

You're killing me, Smalls. I miss you so much it hurts. How's that? I looked at my jacket, then out to the street as a car passed. "He has gotten bigger, I think." I started walking again. He didn't follow at first and had to jog around the car to get to my door before me. I clicked the lock and he swung the door open, resting his arms on top of it. I threw my jacket in and meant to slide in behind it, but I stopped. My traitorous hands betrayed me and I reached up to touch his arm. "I've missed you, too." My voice joined the group of mutinous body parts, cracking.

"Zo...."

"You should try to make it work with Hillary. But don't change too much, because you're a great guy." If I stayed any longer, I'd kiss him, so I got in my car and hurried away. He was still standing there when I looked back in my rearview mirror.