Brisé (2 page)

I know she’s hurt I’m not taking her, but things are getting a bit awkward between us. She’s finally come into her own and is a fucking knock out. Her hair is long and full; still the purest yellow you have ever seen. I always compare it to my mom’s buttercream icing: white with just a hint of color. When she pierces you with those midnight blue eyes and you take in the full beauty in front of you, well, it’s enough to make any man speechless. Her pouty lips hold my attention, like they’re begging me to kiss them, then I have to remind myself this is Phoebe . . . my friend, my best friend, and I am her protector. I just need someone to protect her from me and my feelings. Nobody will ever be good enough for her, not even me, and I would do anything for that girl. Anything. No questions asked.

I don’t know how I will survive my next few years at college without knowing who she is talking to or what she is doing. Sure we can talk, Skype, Facebook, etc., but I will absolutely lose my mind if she starts dating. I need to talk with Scott, and soon, so I can stop that from happening. I know her dad will back me; his little girl will never leave the house with any boy other than me. It isn’t fair to her and goes against everything I want for her. I want her to gain knowledge about life, but I still want to shelter her. I want her to grow up, be ready when I ask her to be mine, because the day I do, it’ll be forever.

I know I’m destined to come back home and take over my dad’s real estate business, but lately my heart just isn’t in it. I used to be so excited to be a part of the family business, but my dreams are changing, and I know it’s because of Phoebe. She’s destined to be on stage, dancing with the most elite ballet companies in the world, so lately I am thinking of finance, ending up on Wall Street. Then we can combine our dreams and not be apart. I know logically that’s years away, and things may change, but not us. We’ll always be Luke and Phoebe. Two souls destined to be one. That’s why I can’t screw this up, not right now. I need to let her grow, mature, and experience the last years of her youth . . . then we can figure out what we’ll be. Together.

Of course, I can’t tell her any of this. If I do she’ll be like a rabid dog with a bone, peppering me for every detail of our future. She’ll want a timeline for each major event I see in our future, and I can’t give that to her yet. I won’t stop her from being open to all of the opportunities heading her way; I won’t be the one to take those away from her. It may seem cocky that I know she will agree to whatever I say or have planned for us, but it isn’t cockiness . . . it’s fate. Our destiny, and I see in her eyes she will follow me wherever I ask her too. That’s why I won’t ask her now, but in time, I know our futures will be joined. We can live out her dreams, her passion, what she’s destined for, and then when she’s ready we can stay in New York or come back home and settle down. The only part of the plan I have figured out for certain is that we’ll be together; as long as we’re joined, everything else will fall into place.

With one last shake of my head, I look in the mirror, run my fingers through my hair, straighten my vest, and make my way down the stairs to pick up my date. I walk to the curb to climb into the limo and catch Phoebe sitting on her porch, just watching everything unfold. When her hand reaches up and swipes her cheek, I almost falter and go to her. I remind myself of my five-year plan and open the door, giving my rehearsed smile to my friends and date. Little did I know that this night would drive a wedge between us that I may never be able to remove.

Chapter 2

Phoebe

Watching Luke climb in the limo was the final straw. I’m so tired of playing second fiddle to his latest conquest. All I ever wanted was for him to notice me, and not in the ‘you’re my best friend’ kind of way. I know he loves me, would walk through the bowels of hell for me, but none of that makes a difference when he doesn’t return the feelings I have for him. I just wanted him to want me . . . the way I long for him.

Our normal routine is changing, has been for a few years, but I blindly sat by and let him screw who he wanted while good ole Phoebe was just waiting around for a scrap of his attention. We’ve been joined at the hip as long as I can remember, experienced every life event together. We have no shyness, no awkward moments between us, but we have secrets. Or rather I do. I love Lucas Matthew Nichols, and have for as long as I can remember. I thought when I finally got boobs, or started getting curves and not looking wrecked from chemotherapy, he would finally see me. Tonight, he proved he will never really see me.

I wipe another stray tear from my cheek as I hear the front door open. I glance back and see my mom carrying two mugs of hot chocolate. Georgia in May is hot, but chocolate in any form is always welcome.

“Hey baby, what are you sitting out here for?” She knows what I’m doing, but in her typical mom fashion she’s giving me the option to tell her. She won’t push, although she’s aware what I’m feeling.

“Watching Luke leave for prom.” I can’t hide the tear tracks down my cheeks, but I wouldn’t try anyway. My mom is my best friend, besides Luke.

“Want to talk about it?” I have to bite my tongue because my natural reaction is to spout off some sarcastic backhanded remark, but she doesn’t deserve that.

“Nothing to talk about, Mom. He took Katie Daniels to prom. We both know why. I’ll spare you the details. He did throw me a bone and tell me if I want him to take me to my prom, he will.” Those words turn my stomach more than the toxins they had to shoot through my veins to kill the cancer. He offered me a fucking pity date, and stupidly I can picture us at my senior prom, slow dancing, and whispering our love to one another. Well, I can’t picture it exactly, but I can dream about it. I have actually dreamed about it, every night for the last three years, except it was supposed to happen tonight, at
his
prom. Then I was going to wait for him while he went away to college and see him on weekends and holidays. I had it all worked out in my mind, but those fantasies will never come to fruition.

“Phoebe, you know he’s a senior, and you’re only a sophomore. You have so much ahead of you. Luke’s a good boy. He doesn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Well, you know what they say, the path to hell is paved with good intentions.” She just shakes her head at me. She’s going to let me stew in my bitterness and pain, the only way I know how. In the dance studio.

“Let me get my keys. I’ll take you to the studio.” My mom’s the best. I have a feeling she did the same thing I do to work through issues. Block out the pain, the memories . . . block out the world and pour it into your dance.

She drops me off with the promise to be back in a few hours, but makes me swear I won’t overdo it. After making sure that my cell phone is on and fully charged, and that there is plenty of water in the mini fridge in the office, she finally locks the door behind her and blows me a kiss. I make my way over to the stereo. I glance at all my choices knowing the stack to avoid. I don’t want to listen to his music tonight and think about trashing them, but I can’t take that step tonight. I pick the first one up and remember the day he recorded it for me. I loved the song ‘Chains’ by Nick Jonas, but I needed it slowed down for a lyrical dance. Luke picked up his guitar, sat down, perfected the tempo I needed, and when he added his voice I wondered how I would make it through the steps without falling flat on my face. When he’s near me, any part of him, he tends to become my sole focus. His voice is smooth, yet raspy. It awakens my body in a way I‘ve never experienced. Not through dancing or music, not through pining away for him for years, but once he sang for me, it was like a revelation for my soul.

As much as I want to toss every single song he has made for me, I won’t. His voice, the lyrics, and my dance, they all sweep over my soul and allow me to get lost; to pour out all the anguish, confusion, pain, and joy in my system. I do a few warm-ups and then turn up the volume as loud as I can. Once the first beat blares through, I begin to move. I pirouette, I leap, I arabesque, I balance on point, my steps never retreating, never slowing down. I am comfortable in the studio, almost as comfortable as I am with Luke. Stop! He can’t penetrate my thoughts. I push myself harder, and before I know it I’m drenched in sweat, heaving for breaths, and utterly exhausted. I look at the clock and realize it has been over three hours, and I then notice my mom watching me.

“Adagio.” She applauds. In the dance world that basically means you kicked ass, flawlessly danced with grace and elegance. I just shake my head at her and allow a smile to cross my lips. It felt good, purging my soul and regaining a balance in my mind and my heart.

“One day, I’ll be as good as you, Mom.”

“Oh baby, you’ve long since surpassed me. You’re going to shine on stage. The ballet companies are going to be beating our doors down when you perform next year.”

“Not my dream, you know this.” It doesn’t matter how many times I tell her I don’t want my name in lights. I want a home, family, stability . . . not the crazy tours, schedules, diets, conditioning, and asshole directors. I will always dance, I need it as much as I need oxygen, but I want to do it for me, not for fame or other’s entertainment. That isn’t who I am, and I know my mom’s a little disappointed. She dreamed of dancing with the
American Ballet Theatre
but it wasn’t meant to be. I don’t think she’s ever let that dream go. I hate to break it to her, but that ship isn’t sailing over here.

“I know, Phoebe. And
you
know I will support you no matter what. I just hate for your talent to go to waste.”

“It won’t. I’ll help you at the studio. Pass on that ambition and love for dance to another little girl looking to find herself. You know, like you and Dad taught me, pay it forward.”

She just smiles at me and nods toward the door. I make sure everything’s turned off in the room, and follow her out so she can set the alarm and lock up. I grin as I remind myself in just five more months I’ll be sixteen, and won’t have to depend on her to take me to the studio. I’ll have some freedom. Then I remember Luke won’t be here, but at college in South Carolina. Maybe not seeing him every day will be what I need, let some of this resentment and confusion heal. If that’s the right answer then why does my chest hurt thinking about it? There hasn’t been a day in over eleven years that I haven’t seen Luke; we’ve even taken every vacation together. Since our first meeting when he told me he would be my superhero and would cure my cancer, he has been my everything. Logically, I know he didn’t cure my cancer, but sometimes I feel like without his support, I wouldn’t have made it. I owe him so much, and everything I have I want to give to him,
willingly.
Not out of gratitude or debt, but just because I love him that much.

I guess time will tell what will happen to us, being in different states, and at different junctures in our lives. I know wherever we end up, he will always keep a piece of my heart, and without him and that missing piece, I don’t think I’ll ever be whole again.

Chapter 3

Luke

I know beyond a shadow of a doubt I made a huge mistake. I knew it as soon as I saw Phoebe crying as I climbed into the limo. The night only got worse as Katie clung to me. Every time we shared a dance, I wanted it to be Phoebe in my arms. I decided to try and make it up to her by bringing her the chocolate glazed donuts she loves.

She answers my knock on her bedroom door with a muffled, “Come in.” Clearly, I’m not who she’s expecting because her jaw falls open as she narrows her beautiful eyes at me. I hold up the donuts stupidly like they’re a peace treaty.

“Good morning, Twinkle.” I give her my best smile. The one I used on Katie last night when I got laid. Not my finest moment, but I am sure it won’t be my last mistake. I keep reminding myself of the end game.

Rolling her eyes at me, she snaps, “Don’t
Twinkle
me. My name’s Phoebe, Lucas.”

She’s more pissed than I was betting on.
Lucas
. I am never Lucas. “I know your name, but you are my Twinkle. Always will be.”

“I am not your anything. Don’t get it twisted. How was prom?” Her voice is laced with venom and sarcasm.

“You’re really that mad over prom?” Wrong question if her throwing her pillow on the floor is any indication.

“Not just prom, Lucas. Everything. You ignore me unless I fit into your schedule, and it’s been like this the last year. I am tired of playing second fiddle to your dick, your senior year, and your life in general; it’s about time I get a life of my own.” Her outburst shocks me.

“You’re always my priority. Don’t doubt that.” I know things have changed. Our dynamic is shifting, but she’s acting like I never make time for her. Everything I do is for her.

She chuckles at me. “Delusional, much?” When she drops her head and won’t look me in the eyes, I know the conversation is over.

“Phoebe . . .” I try one more time. I get nothing. Shit! I leave in seven weeks, and I can’t go without her being all right. Without
us
being all right. “Fuck it.” I turn on my heel and walk out of her room.

Once I reach the kitchen, I greet her parents before heading to the door. I drop the donuts on the counter and give them a weak smile.

“Lucas,” Mr. Wells stops me.

“Sir?”

“I appreciate what you are doing. Don’t think it doesn’t go unnoticed.”

“By her, it does,” I admit to him.