Just You (14 page)

After our snowball war had ended, the two
kids and the dog—all cold, wet, and bored—went inside while Michael
and I leveled off the snow bank in the driveway.

“Too bad the snow ruined tonight,” I said
once we’d finished and were stowing the shovels where we’d found
them, leaning up against the porch railing.

“I don’t mind.” He ruffled some snow out of
my hair. We were both soaked to the skin. “Slamming you with
snowballs was really fun.”

I gave him a little shove. “Even though I
beat you?”

A smile twitched on his lips, and a beat
later he lunged at me, lightly tackling me to the ground. I
screamed as we collided with the icy grass, limbs flailing. Somehow
he made us land in a way that wasn’t painful, and after the initial
shock wore off I started laughing—a deep, uninhibited sound that
bubbled up from the lowest part of my stomach.

“You’re really ticklish,” Michael said,
pleased with how my laughter intensified each time he placed his
hands near my sides. I tried to control myself but kept bursting
into fresh giggles. He rolled away, lifting his hands in surrender.
“I’m not even touching you.”

“It’s just the thought of it,” I said,
shivering now as my laughter died down. The ground was freezing,
and our clothes were wet.

Michael reached out to brush his fingers
across my cheek, and a burst of heat flared through me, quieting
the shivers. Just as we started inching toward each other, the
porch light flicked on, blinding us. The sound of the door creaking
open echoed in the air. “Taylor?” my father bellowed. “Kids? Where
are you?”

Michael sprung to his feet and offered his
hand to help me up. “Right here, Dad,” I called once I was upright.
“We’re coming in.”

The door slammed shut again, and I turned
back to Michael. He was watching me, one arm extended in my
direction. “I have something for you,” he said, nodding toward his
outstretched hand. I followed his gaze and was surprised to see a
plain little box sitting in his palm. He must have dug it out of
his pocket while I was answering my father. I stood rooted to the
spot, staring open-mouthed at that box. “For your birthday,” he
added, lifting his hand in a
take it already
motion.

I snapped out of my trance and took the box,
slowly opening it under the harsh glow of the porch light. Michael
stood by, hands in his pockets, hunching his shoulders as if he
were either very cold or very nervous.

I gasped when I saw it. Inside the box,
nestled in a square of cotton, lay a small, sterling silver charm
in the shape of two swans curled up together, beaks touching.

“I thought of you when I saw that,” Michael
said. “You said you loved swans, so…”

At a loss for words, all I could think to do
was swallow. I kept swallowing, over and over until my mouth felt
parched, but it didn’t stop the burning behind my eyes.

“I love it,” I said, finally. “Thank you.
But it’s too much. I mean…” I gulped one more time, unable to
finish my thought. I knew what I
wanted
to say…that we’d
only been dating a few weeks, and we weren’t really serious, and
giving perfect, meaningful presents like this was something you did
when you were in love, and I was scared to even consider the
possibility that we had gotten in so deep. That
I
had gotten
in so deep. But none of that seemed appropriate right now.

“It’s a birthday present,” Michael said,
seeing my fear. “That’s all.”

I looked up at him and was relieved to see
that he was smiling. If he felt hurt or insulted by my reaction, it
didn’t show. “Thanks,” I said again. I reached up to hug him, his
gift secure in my fist as I wrapped both arms around him.

Chapter 13

“No drinking tonight, young lady. I mean
it.”

“Mom, don’t worry.” I grimaced into the
phone. “Are you leaving soon for Aunt Gina’s party?”

“In a few minutes. She needs me to help her
get the food ready. That reminds me, I need to bring over my big
glass platter.” She paused before adding, “I want you in by
one-thirty, by the way.”

“No problem. Robin and I are just hanging
out at her friend’s house tonight, anyway. Nothing exciting.”

“Good,” she said. “Now let me talk to your
father.”

My mother and I wished each other a happy
New Year, and then I called Dad to the phone. He danced over to me
in his party outfit, which consisted of black pinstriped dress
pants, a red cable-knit sweater, and shiny black Oxford-style
shoes. He looked neat and stylish, for once. He and Lynn were
leaving soon for a party at a swanky hotel downtown.

“Happy New Year to you, Diane,” Dad said
cheerfully into the phone. “Why, yes, I am in a good mood. And how
are you this fine evening?”

My parents had gotten to the point where
they could be cordial with each other, but in different ways. My
father tended to go overboard in his kindness while my mother just
barely tolerated their conversations. At least they communicated
now, which was more than they did right after the divorce.

I went up to my room to grab the clothes and
accessories I’d need to get ready over at Robin’s house. She’d
decided to go out with us at the last second and was expecting me
in ten minutes or so. Contrary to what my mother believed, I
wouldn’t be hanging out at any of Robin’s friend’s houses tonight.
I was actually going to a New Year’s party with Michael, whose
name—after two entire months of dating—still had not been mentioned
around my mother. She was completely clueless. This was a miracle
in itself, seeing as how my father and sister both had big mouths
and couldn’t keep a secret at gunpoint. It was almost like they
sensed that if Mom got wind of the situation, they might never see
Michael again. I sensed the same thing.

“Yes, I will remind her about her curfew,”
my dad said as I passed by him on the way to the front door.
“That’s all taken care of…Natalie is coming over to watch them…I
know, one-thirty. I heard you the first time, Diane.”

I double-checked my bag, making sure I had
everything. Finally, after placating Mom three more times and then
wishing her a happy New Year again, my father hung up the
phone.

“That woman is wound tighter than a drum,”
he said in his usual genial way.

“A few glasses of wine tonight will loosen
her up,” I said. “I’m going now, Dad. And yes, I will be home by
one-thirty.”

He came over to kiss my cheek. “Pay Natalie
when you get in, all right? The money is on top of the hutch in the
dining room. Lynn and I will be home around two or three. Happy New
Year, sweet pea. Have fun tonight.”

I waved on my way out. “You too.”

As usual, Robin wasn’t anywhere near ready
when I showed up. But it wasn’t a big deal, considering it was
after seven and I still wore my sweatpants. I had washed my hair
and marinated myself in a tub full of Citrus Breeze bath foam that
afternoon, so all I had left to do was get dressed and do my
makeup.

Robin headed for the shower while I spread
out my clothes on her unmade bed. Dark jeans and a form-fitting red
blouse. I began to change out of my ratty clothes.

“Casual with an understated sexiness,” Robin
said as burst into the room, her body wrapped in a big green
towel.

I assumed she meant my outfit. “You
think?”

“Wish I could pull it off, but
booblicously-challenged girls such as myself need a little more
flair.”

“Booblicously?” Robin had this weird habit
of inventing new words on the spot.

“Right,” she said, brushing her wet hair.
“Booblicously-challenged. Lacking good boobs. You know what I
mean.” She put down the brush and knelt in front of her closet,
rummaging through a large pile of clothes. She glanced back at me
as I slipped on my blouse and buttoned it. “Please tell me you’re
wearing sexy underwear.”

“Depends on your definition of sexy.”

“Like…” She moved to her dresser, where she
opened the top drawer and pulled out a minuscule scrap of material
that looked suspiciously like a piece of pink dental floss. “This,”
she said, twirling it around with her finger.

“An eye patch?”

“It’s a thong, stupid.” She shoved it back
into the drawer.

“I don’t like thongs. They’re uncomfortable.
I always feel like I have a wedgie.”

“It’s not only about what
you
like.”
She gave me a pointed look and went back to her closet
rummaging.

“My underwear is fine, okay? Besides, we’re
not even close to that point.”

“You never know when the mood will strike.
Details like this are important, Tay.” She stood up, holding a pair
of black satin pumps. She slipped them on and began trouncing
around her room, wearing only the shoes and her green towel. “What
do you think?”

I started on my makeup. “The towel is very
becoming.”

She dug out a skimpy pair of panties from
her dresser drawer and wiggled them up her long legs, then flung
the towel to the floor in order to fasten her push-up bra. Robin
had no hang-ups when it came to her body, which never failed to
impress me. A minute later, when I turned away from the mirror
again, my jaw fell practically down to my neck. She looked amazing
in a black, knee-length cocktail dress. The cut of the V-shaped
neckline, along with the help of her push-up bra, actually produced
some decent cleavage. Her high-heeled satin shoes made her seem six
feet tall, like a fashion model. Suddenly I felt very
underdressed.

“That dress is awesome,” I said, still
staring.

She smoothed the skirt with her hands. “It’s
my mother’s. Do you think it’s too much for tonight? I mean, it
is
New Year’s, but...”

The dress would have been too much on anyone
else, but somehow she made it work. “It’s perfect.”

Michael picked us up at eight-thirty,
looking gorgeous and smelling of cinnamon, as usual. He’d been
popping mints again. We were going to some girl’s house in Redwood
Hills, where Robin planned to hang out with some friends and a big
bottle of Absolut while Michael and I planned to do what we usually
did at parties—talk to his friends and then find a deserted spot by
ourselves.

Soon we arrived at a massive saltbox house
with an attached three-car garage. It was still decorated for
Christmas with lights strung along the eaves, a piney wreath on the
front door, and plastic candy canes sticking out of the garden. The
hostess’s name was Monique something, but Robin and I didn’t know
her and never did end up meeting her. Even this early, the place
was crammed full of familiar faces from previous parties.

“Wow,” Michael said when Robin took off her
coat in the entryway. She posed playfully as he admired her. I
poked him in the ribs until he stopped gawking, and then raised my
eyebrows at him. I’d never seen him take notice of Robin’s
appearance before. I couldn’t blame him though; she did look
beautiful and classy in that dress.

“Are you done?” I asked archly. Jealousy was
a brand new emotion for me. Once in a while it crept up, surprising
me, burning in my stomach like a bad case of indigestion. I’d never
experienced jealousy over Brian, even when I found out about Kara.
With him I wasn’t territorial like I probably should have been if
I’d loved him at all.

But Michael was a different story. I could
fully imagine myself ripping a girl’s hair out over him.

“Don’t worry,” he said in my ear as we
joined the crush of people. “You’re hotter than anyone here.”

I laughed at the absurdity of this, but he
was dead serious. It was then that I realized it—he was a
goner.

“Beer?” R.J.’s girlfriend, Kayla, asked as
we shoved into the kitchen.

“Okay,” I said, ignoring my mother’s voice
in my head as I accepted a Corona.

“No thanks,” Michael said. “Driving.” He
squeezed my shoulder and told me he’d be right back. I leaned
against the counter, sipping my beer. Above me, a fat orange cat
perched on top of the fridge, its green eyes peering down at
me.

“How’s it going?” Kayla yelled over the
pounding music as she mixed two drinks at the counter beside me. I
liked Kayla. She was one of the few exceptions to the barracuda
bunch. Of all the RH girls, she was the nicest and most down to
earth.

“Good,” I replied, glancing again at the
cat. All that staring made me nervous. “You?”

She poured Bailey’s into one of the cups and
then took a gulp. “Better now. Don’t mind Clarence, he’s
harmless.”

“Who?”

She nodded toward the cat. “He gets freaked
out by crowds.”

“Oh.” I moved out of pouncing distance
anyway. For some reason cats hated me. Maybe because I was often
covered in dog fur.

“Time to track down that boyfriend of mine,”
Kayla said, gathering up her drinks. “Wanna come with?”

We headed toward the living room, Kayla
maneuvering through the bodies, red plastic cups held high to avoid
spillage. I followed in the path she cleared.

“Hey!” she shouted, shaking one of the cups
as if it were a beacon, guiding R.J. toward her. She must have
spotted him. While she waited for him to get to her, she glanced
back at me to make sure I hadn’t been trampled. “You okay?” she
asked.

Before I could nod I got bumped from the
side, causing my bottle to tip and shower beer down the front of my
shirt. Great, I thought, dabbing at my cleavage with my sleeve.

“Watch where you’re going!” Kayla said to
the bumper’s retreating back. Then she looked down at my top and
shook her head. “There’s a bathroom right over there. I’ll show
you.” She reached over several people’s heads to hand R.J. his
drink and then grabbed my hand, leading me in the opposite
direction.

“I can find it,” I told her. She either
didn’t hear me or chose not to answer. As we approached a long
hallway, the mob thinned and I caught sight of Michael. He stood
not ten feet from us, talking to a blond girl with an incredible
derriere. I didn’t have to see her face to know who she was—Elena
Brewster. At it again.