Manipulation (Shadows) (8 page)

TWELVE

Dean

“I will tell you about blue eyes if you’ll try an experiment with me.” She’s standing here, in my room, and doesn’t seem to mind. I’m going a little insane with the need to touch her. She has this straight, thin body that I’m starting to really want to feel against mine, and every time we’re together something unexpected happens.

I’m usually good at reading people—can handle myself in new situations—but with her…everything’s new.

“An experiment?” She folds her arms like she knows what’s coming.

“Come sit on my bed with me…”

“No, no no.” She shakes her head and something almost like a laugh escapes her lips. “I’m not falling for that.”

I knew she’d think I was coming on to her. And although it might be nice to feel myself wrapped up in her arms and legs, things with her are different. I’m in completely new territory. New Territory requires caution.

“Come on.” I climb up the ladder to my bunk. “Experiment first, and then I’ll show you what Bill was talking about.”

“I have a ladder up to my bed, too.” She climbs up.

“Is your bed higher?”

She nods.

“And probably the ceiling too?”

She nods again, holding in a smile. I can see her dimples though. She’s not good at hiding emotion. This is good for me. I’m terrible at reading girls.

“And there’s probably more room on your bed.” I nod for her this time, trying not to feel completely inadequate at how unbalanced we are.

“Yes, but mine isn’t as cozy.” She sits on the opposite side of my bed, facing me, with her legs crossed.

“I want to hold hands and try to talk, without speaking.” I stretch my hand toward her and set it on the bed. “If it’s not too crazy for you to try.”

“Promise me you won’t make me to anything and that you won’t try to… I don’t know, read my mind or anything.”

This whole connection thing really bothers her. “Promise. Just talk.”

“I’ll try.” Her small hand reaches out, and I slide my fingers through hers.

I watch our hands come together and for a moment I just enjoy the feeling of her small, cool hands in mine. The skin is so smooth, and I’m wondering if it’s that disinfectant crap she’s always putting on or something else. “Okay, no more talking.”

Out loud.
I’m sure it’s her. I hear her in my head only I can’t really distinguish it from my own voice.

Thank you for trying this with me.
I don’t know what I’m doing. I have no idea if any of that got through but I could sit here and hold her hand and look in her eyes all afternoon.

“You’re welcome.” She speaks.

“Quiet.” I smile. She heard me. Amazing.

Thank you for bringing me to your house. I like it here.

I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe we’re doing this! Aren’t you freaking out?
I ask
.

Her eyes stay on mine and her face doesn’t change.

Tell me about the blue eyes.

“Oh come on! You have to be freaking out that we can do this?” I’m high right now. This is awesome! But then, what can we really do with it? Addie and I can talk to one another without speaking out loud. What on earth will that do for us? It’s really bizarre to have the ability to do something we both know is unique, but it feels so limiting.

“I’m freaking out a little.” Her chuckle comes out tense and tight.

Kiss me.
I sent it to her as clearly as I can, but keep a teasing smile on my face.

She starts to lean forward and then freezes. “Don’t.” Her hand jerks away and her smile disappears. “Guess I
can
stop you.”

“I was teasing, Addie.” I rest my hands in my lap. “Mostly.” I’d barely registered the thought, not concentrated like I normally do. I wonder if she would have done it if I had?

I see her dimples as she looks down into her lap. “Okay. Blue eyes. What’s that about?” Her voice is back to normal. She’s ignoring my kiss comment.

“Promise me you won’t walk out?” I reach next to me.

“No.” Her smile is back.

“Well, where’s my motivation then?” I tease. But my heart’s hammering because part of me thinks she’ll be flattered, and the other part of me thinks she’ll run and not look back. I know our connection already feels too deep for her.

She rests a hand on my knee.
Please
.

I pause, just to make her think that I might not do it, and it’s interesting that I can feel her thought creeping in and still stop it.

“After the day we got wet together, I came home to work on another drawing project, but I ended up with this instead.” I reach through the small stack of books next to my pillow and pull out my sketchbook. I open it up to the page of Addie and her blue eyes and hand it to her.

She looks down at the picture and then up at me. My drawing doesn’t do her justice, there’s so much more depth to her than what I got on a stupid piece of paper.

“Dean…” Her voice is soft and she glances up at me and back down at the drawing. “You made me beautiful.” I watch her eyes brim with tears and then watch as she uses the back of her hand to blot them away.

My chest aches for her and anger settles in at the jerk who made her feel like something less than the amazing girl she is, and then helplessness because she’s weird about us touching and having her in my arms right now sounds pretty nice.

“Addie, I wasn’t able to capture a tenth of what I wanted to.” Does she understand me? Do I understand me?

Silence fills the room for a few moments.

“It sort of feels like we’ve known each other longer than we have, huh?” she asks.

Wow. That’s it. Right there. She’s just like that to me. Like we’ve known each other longer than we think we have, and I feel protective of her like I don’t to many people. “Yeah. Just like that.”

“So.” Her smile looks a bit mischievous. “Does that mean I can flip through here?”

“Go, ahead.” It doesn’t much matter now. I lean back against the wall trying to pretend to be relaxed when I’m anything but. I start to get embarrassed when she keeps turning the page and it’s still her. Bill’s in there. Katy’s in there. I sketched out my brother. I’ve done that a few times.

“Is this you? Younger?” She’s stopped at Jeremy’s picture.

“My brother.”

“The one you don’t see.” Her mouth pulls into a frown as she studies his face.

I nod. “The only one I have.”

“I’m so sorry.” She stares at his picture and traces the edges of his face like she’s really thinking—absorbing my situation.

“You shouldn’t apologize.” I shake my head. “Especially considering what you’ve been through today.”

“Well, I did that to myself.” She shakes her head.

“How much older is he?”

“That was why it was secret.” Her shoulders slump and the sketchpad rests on her lap. “He’s twenty-two now. Twenty when it started.”

“And you were
sixteen
?” What an asshole.

“Yep. Quite a conquest for a sixteen-year-old, huh?” There’s too much hurt in her voice for me to buy the relaxed attitude she’s trying to put off.

“That’s one way of looking at it.” Only what an asshole! “If we ever run into him, do I have your permission to break his nose?”

“And what good would that do?” she asks. But all I can notice is she’s holding in a smile. I’m going to take that as a sign of how happy she is that I’m protective.

“Well, I’d feel a whole lot better, and I bet you would too, once you saw some blood.” I smile widely.

“Boys.” She shakes her head but she’s smiling, too.

“Dinner!” Bill calls.

“Oh.” Crap. “I really should have warned you. The food here is inedible most of the time.”

“Okay.” Her face reads something like disbelief.

“You should just say you’re not hungry. I’ve gotten really good at that.” I chuckle.

“So, what do you eat?” Her head tilts to the side and her smile doesn’t look forced. It looks real.

“Cereal.”

“You must go through a lot of cereal.” She laughs. I love her laugh.

“I do.”

When she leans forward, her hair falls down.

“Are you up for one more experiment?”

“What now?” She folds her arms. “Do you need to check my tonsils or something?” Sarcasm drips, but I love it from her anyway.

“Well…that would be nice, but no, that’s not what I was talking about.” I reach forward. “Can I touch your hair?”

“Okay.” She leans forward, her hair falls down and touches her lap.

I lean forward so I can slide the strands through my fingers. I’m sure staring at her this way isn’t going to help the intensity any, but I can’t look away. I send thought after thought to her.
Kiss me.

“So, what’s the experiment?”

“It didn’t work.” I drop her hair. “Your hair is safe.”

“What did you try to get me to do? Or say?”

“I’m a moron, looking for a kiss where I’m not going to get it,” I tease.

“Dean.” She shakes her head. “Don’t. When we kiss I don’t want to feel like you forced it on me.” She starts down the ladder.

“Wait, did you just say,
when
? As in, you think that at some point—” Okay, what is wrong with me? My throat’s suddenly thick and I don’t know what to do with myself. This was me at twelve, not eighteen. “At some point we will?”

“If we don’t get sick of each other first.” She smirks and walks out my door.

I scramble down the ladder wondering what kind of embarrassment will be waiting for me in the next room.

“Tomato soup and grilled cheese, is that okay?” Bill asks.

“Great,” I answer. And surprisingly normal.

“It actually looks really good, but my little sister is probably home and she’s sort of having a hard time right now.” Addison bites her lip in apology.

“Maybe next time.” Bill smiles and takes his dinner to the living room.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” I tell him. “For dinner.”

“You don’t have to walk me out.” Addison shakes her head.

“I’ll walk you out and make sure you get in a car.” It’s the least I can do.

She nods once and steps out the open door. We walk down the stairs in silence. One of the most intense afternoons of my life, with a girl I feel like I’ve known forever, but we still feel new, and I’m not sure what to say.

“Oh, your jacket.” She starts to shrug it off when we get outside.

“You’ll need it for the ride home.” I want to reach out and touch the hair around her face but stop myself.

“You must think I’m crazy.” She looks away and heads for the corner.

“Not at all. People who wear boots? And people who shuffle their feet? That makes me crazy.” It was the perfect thing to say.
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/15837392-manipulation

“So…” I stand just off the sidewalk with her, watching for cabs. It’s a busy street, and might take a few minutes. “I think we should do this again, at your place.”

“Oh.” She looks down. “I’m kind of embarrassed about where I live.”

“And you think I wasn’t?” What on earth would Addie have to be embarrassed about?

“It’s different.” She shrugs.

“It’s fine. I’m sure you’re not comfortable bringing me there. I shouldn’t have suggested it.” What the hell am I thinking? It’s one thing for a hot girl to ask her way back to my house, but for me to want to see hers? It feels different.

“I don’t want to offend you, Dean. I mean, it has nothing to do with you. It’s just—”

“It’s fine. I’ll see you in class.” But I
am
offended—even though I half expected her to tell me no.

“See you.” She throws her hand up and a cab stops next to us. “I’ll get your coat back to you, soon.” She opens the cab door and takes my hand.
Thank you.

I step closer, and I swear the energy from her hits me before we touch.

Thank you.
And just like that, as our hands slip away, the afternoon is over, and with that one touch, I’m way less offended. This probably means I’m hosed here, because I really don’t see her slumming it with me for long.

I walk back to the apartment feeling different. I’m not sure how, but I’m different. Changed. And if I thought I couldn’t get her out of my thoughts before, I can’t imagine how I’m going to sleep tonight.

THIRTEEN

Addison

After the distraction of Dean, the full-force of Chase and what he did, hits me again. I slump in the seat
of the cab
, grateful for Dean’s jacket. It’s way too big, of course, but we’re close enough to the same height that it works okay. It smells like him, anyway. I breathe in next to the collar. Way better than cab. Way better than anything I can think of right now. I’m a mess.
Chase, Dean, Chase, Dean.

“Right here.” I tap the driver on the shoulder.

He pulls over, and I drop a fifty
on his seat.

I scramble out and wonder if anyone’s home. My phone rings and I jump, again. Crap, I need to get a hold of myself.

It’s Chase. My heart stops. Do I answer? What do I say?

I answer the call but don’t say anything.

“Princess? Are you there?”

His tone feels stupid, condescending and patronizing.
“Don’t call me that.”

“What’s—”

“I saw your picture in the paper this afternoon.” It’s all I can manage to get out. Where’s all the screaming and swearing I should be doing?

“Princess…” He uses this sweet, mellow voice that used to always calm me down
. Now it just pisses me off
.

I throw my phone into the middle of the street before thinking. It bounces off a car and immediately gets run over. I’m shaking again. Why did I give him this power over me? And now it feels like I have no one to talk to. Deborah will look down her nose at me, even though she thought it was the coolest thing ever. Even Ellie knew better. Now I want to talk to Dean, but I just threw my phone out into traffic.
Perfec
t.

I step in the building, slump against the elevator and wish for my bed. And dinner. Or maybe just ice cream. Maybe Ellie will want to sleep with me again. That would be nice, too. As the elevator moves up, I pull out my sanitizer and try to wash cab off me.

When I walk in the house, Mom’s in the living room, stopping me still. She’s like this stranger in my house in all her perfectly manicured blond
e
glory. We’re the same height, but I’m shaped like a boy. Mom has curves, just enough to look like a woman.

“Hey, Mom.” I smile. As angry as I am with her for never being around, I miss her but then can’t ever find words when she’s actually here. I don’t think I’ve seen her for two weeks. Or more.

“Don’t ‘hey’ me.” Her face is hard. “Do you have any idea how much your little stunt is affecting us? Still?”

“I…” Her words hit me over and over, shattering like plates thrown against a brick wall. Tonight isn’t the night I need this. If they’d known about Chase, maybe I could get some sympathy. Maybe.

“It’s completely embarrassing for my daughter, of all people, to be doing what you did. If you needed to go somewhere, I could have gotten you there.” Each word is clipped and angry.

“Sorry, Mom, I—”

“My poor brother had to take you to court.”

“Mom that was weeks ago, now.”

“Be quiet!” Her hands are on her hips and even though we’re the same height, she’s now miles taller.

“Ellen.” Dad stands up and touches her arm.

She shrugs him off. “We don’t have anything to talk about, Addison.”

This is how my mom dismisses me. But I want to talk. I want to talk about the boy who broke my heart today. And the boy who’s fixing it, changing me. She won’t want to hear it. She’ll probab
ly never want to hear it
, and I have no idea why.

“This is your cue to leave, Addison.” Mom sits back down and picks up her glass of wine.

I meant to. I meant to leave before she could say something. Before she could dismiss me even further. When did we get to this point? Has it just happened slowly? Or did it happen over time? I’m wiping tears, again, as I walk down the hallway.

Even my door feels heavier than normal. I’m starving. There are two Zone bars on top of my small fridge. I grab one, flop on my sofa, and start to eat. What a mess I got myself into. My starry-eyed optimism when I was sixteen carried Chase and I together for way too long.

I take the last bite of my first bar and open the next package. The chocolate and peanut butter melt in my mouth and help me relax. Why didn’t I invite Dean here? Am I that embarrassed about where I live? His place just felt so warm, lived in, nice. This place feels like a big eff-you to everyone who lives below us. Or, that’s how it feels to me. Dean, I’m sure, already sees me as some weird spoiled brat. No need to make things worse.

I stand up and pick up our home phone. Dean’s number
…
Okay. I try to relax and see it in my head. I dial. And wait. And hope it’s the right one. I step back to my couch and sit.

“Hello?” His voice is smooth, like always.

“Dean?”

“Hey, Addie.” His tone lightens.

“I can’t believe I got your number right.” I breathe out.

“Where’s your phone?”

“Under traffic on Park Avenue.” I let myself laugh once, because it really was a stupid and dramatic thing to do.

“So, that’s the view, huh? From your window?” There’s an edge of tease to his voice that puts me at ease.

“That’s the view.” If he’s going to be here, it doesn’t much matter if he knows where I live.

“So, what’s up?”

“I called to say thanks, and to see if you want to follow me home after class in a couple days.” I can’t believe I just asked him.

“Sure.” There’s a pause. “But are
you
sure?”

“I’m sure.” Mostly I just want time with him, but there’s no easy way to say that.

“Do you graduate in a couple of weeks?”

“Next week.”

“Oh, me too. I thought somehow the private schools would be different.”

“Guess they’re not.”

“What’s next for you?”

I sit back and breathe in. Talking to Dean I can do. “NYU.”

“I’m doing the Tisch school. They specialize in all kinds of artistic degrees. NYU’s too pricey for me, considering Tisch is probably going to give me a nice scholarship.”

“I’m glad you’re doing something with your art. It would be a waste if you didn’t.” I think again to the drawing of me. No one’s ever done something like that for me before. Something so personal.

“Well, I’m still not sure how I’m going to get through. Bill and Jeannette offered to let me stay here, but I’ll have to pay rent.”

“Right.” I’m looking forward to freedom and Dean is about to face a lot more work. “Thanks for today, Dean. It means a lot.”

“I’m glad. Really. I’m terrible with girls. I mean, I’ve had girlfriends, you know, but I generally screw things up.”

“Oh.” Does he consider me a girlfriend? I don’t know what we a
re right now, but it feels good. I
t feels like mor
e than friends, even though we’ve
done nothing outside of holding hands for brief moments and experiments. “So, what you’re saying is I need to warn you if you’re headed in a bad direction, is that right?”

He laughs. “Something like that.”

“Just don’t
make
me do thing
s, okay?” I already feel naked and vulnerable
around him.

“I can do that.”

I’m grinning like an idiot and picturing Dean on the other end, on one of those huge chairs in his miniature living room, smiling too.

“So I’ll talk to you later?”

“Later.”

Am I so pathetic that I need a guy to make me feel better? But it’s not just a guy. It’s Dean. And that somehow makes it all okay. Or does it?

“Knock, knock, Bunny.” Dad opens my door a crack.

“Hey, Dad.” I pull my legs to my chest and don’t move from my spot on the couch. What does he want? When was the last time he set foot in my room?

“Your Mom’s had a rough few weeks.” Now’s when Dad comes in to apologize for my mother who probably would have been fine without children.

“I guessed.” All I want right now is to keep my voice neutral.

“You didn’t look like yourself when you got home. Is everything okay?”
His voice is so relaxed and quiet, not at all what I’m used to from him.

“You don’t want to hear it.” This is really weird. My dad in my room, asking me about…anything.

“Boys, then.” He sits on the other end of my couch.

“Yeah.” I watch him carefully. What does he want?

“Trent? The one who took you to Prom?” He seems distracted, like he’s here for something else, and we’re just passing the time before he gets to it.

“Yeah,” I lie. It’s easier than explaining anything else to him, especially right now when I’m too confused to understand my own head.

“I figured the boy stuff was about Chase. And the announcement in the paper today.”

I open my mouth to say something.

“It wasn’t hard to figure out. I didn’t say anything.” He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

I close my mouth and feel guilt wash through me. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad to tell them what was going on. Well, most of what was going on.

“I don’t know everything that happened between you two, and I probably don’t want to know.” A near smile hits the corners of his mouth, but he continues to stare at the floor.

I start to defend myself, but he puts his hand up between us. He’s not done yet.

“I don’t know how things ended between you…” He’s not looking at me, he’s stumbling for words a bit—something my dad rarely does. “Sorry, Addison.”

I need to change the subject because talking about what Chase and I did together is not on the list of acceptable things to speak with my dad about. “I need a new phone.”

He finally looks my way, and it’s like the man underneath the face I see from my dad is there. It’s sort of astounding that I feel like I’m seeing the actual person for the first time.
“What happened to yours?”

“I lost my temper when Chase tried to call. A cab ran it over.” I know how Dad hates the cabs.

“Those damn cabbies are everywhere.” He sighs. “Fine, use your card and pick one out tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” It feels awkward, like he’s still waiting for something or is hesitant about something. And just the simple fact that he’s in my room is throwing me.

I blink and something dark moves behind Dad. He stiffens, but doesn’t move. But then as I squint toward my door, nothing’s there. It was dark, and just flashed. I spin to see my curtains still resting open. Maybe it was just a shadow from outside, but just like the other day in my closet, my heart starts banging inside my ribs.

“You okay?” Dad touches my knee, still stiff, and I swear trying to look more relaxed than he is.

My body warms up and relaxes slowing my heart back down.

“Yeah.
I’m okay.
” My eyes scan back and forth behind him, but there’s nothing. I pull in a deep breath. Either my imagination or a shadow from the window. No big deal.
Anyway, I feel all relaxed again, so I’m thinking it’s just my imagination.

“You’re still planning to go to NYU right? Sticking around?” he asks.

“Yeah, but if Ellie’s in Paris…” Why would I stick here? Why wouldn’t I try to be closer to her?

“I’ll make sure you see her.”

Why am I suspicious about my dad being so nice? I mean, he’s only gruff and yelling when I’ve done something stupid, but he’s okay most of the time. My suspicion doesn’t make sense. But he is in my room.

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

“Uh… sure.” This is new.

“Okay. I just don’t want you involved in anything that’s over your head, that’s all.”

“Are we back to the train tickets?” Is that where this is coming from?

His eyebrows shoot up. “Not, that.” He shifts his weight. “Just…” I swear he attempts a half-glance behind him. Did he notice it too?
The movement?
But he can’t have, because it had to be nothing. “Be careful out there.”

I stay silent. I’m not sure where this overwhelming amount of paternal love came from, but it doesn’t feel like Dad. That, and, it’s sort of an ambiguous warning. Asking him if he saw something move in my room suddenly seems ridiculous, and I’m not sure that we have anything else to talk about.

“Chase is kind of a prick, like his Dad.”
Dad chuckles.

I sputter out a nervous laugh. I can’t help it. Dad doesn’t really say anything bad about anybody, not anybody that we both know, anyway.

“Night, Bunny.” He stands up, takes a long look around my room and starts for the door.

“Night, Dad.”

He walks out, leaving me feeling more confused than ever. How does he know so much? Is it normal parent stuff or has he been tracking me somehow? Are we both seeing nothings that shouldn’t be here? Maybe Dad pays more attention than I give him credit for.