Something About Love: A YA contemporary romance in verse (2 page)

How Kevin got in trouble, and

How the mashed potatoes at lunch are
sooo
good.

I smile,

Thinking that I love Rose.

But I am not
in love
with her.

“LIKE THIS?”

Trevor asks the next afternoon as

He scoots forward on the couch,

Raises one fist to his chin

Like he’s Uncle Rico on
Napoleon Dynamite
.

“Get real,” I respond,

Analyze his position, and

Notice his hips are too far forward,

His back too bent,

His left arm dangling in empty air.

This picture would be a nightmare.

“I’m going to manhandle you.”

I step toward him,

Let the camera settle around my neck.

“I wish you would,” he says.

I push on his shoulders,

Force him back into the couch.

“Arm up, like there’s a girl sitting

Here you really like.

Gross, not creepy-possessive-like.

Release the fingers.

You don’t own her,

You’re just claiming the space she occupies.

Yeah, yeah, like that.”

I picture myself in that spot,

Sitting close,

Feeling the warmth of his almost-on-my-shoulders arm,

Smelling the maleness of his skin.

He should be carefree,

Hands loose,

Smile wide,

“Left leg up,” I say. “Ankle on knee.”

He moves,

That diabolical grin on his face.

“Turn your right toe more toward me.

Good. Okay, tilt your head just a little…

Too much. You’re not a puppet.”

I step toward him,

Feeling the heat of his body

As I invade his space.

His smile fades as I gently push on his chin, and

Say, “Just a little.

Then I can catch the light in your eyes.

Makes you look alive.”

“Hand here.” I move his left hand down on his knee more,

Ignoring the thrill that squirrels down my spine

When we touch.

“We don’t want this to look posed,

Though it is posed.

You should look natural,

Like you just sat down, and

Now you’re waiting for your girlfriend,

Who will easily slip into this space, because

She knows she belongs there.”

“Got it,” he says.

“And I’m waiting for

Her to figure that out.”

He grins,

One eyebrow raised, and

I ignore his flirtations as

I step back and raise my camera,

A dance we are unaccustomed to,

But one we will master.

I snap several pictures before he smiles,

Before he cages his soul.

“Smile,” I say, “Like the girl coming to sit next to you is special.

Don’t look at her! Look at me.”

Click click click.

I take his picture in rapid-fire succession.

“I’m home!” Rose announces.

I drop the camera,

Remove the strap from my neck.

“We’re done for today.”

“Tomorrow?” Trevor asks,

Gets up, and

Brushes imaginary dirt from his jeans.

“We can go to my place.”

He doesn’t look at me as he says it.

“Right,” I say

As I roll my eyes.

He knows there’s no way I’m going to his place

Tomorrow,

Or ever.

“How about the dock?”

I shoo Rose into the kitchen with a look that says,

Be right there. Get out the crackers.

I turn back to Trevor and find him

Too close,

Smiling,

Eyebrows raised.

“The dock?”

I suppress the memory of what happened

Last time I was at the dock

Alone with Trevor.

“I’ll bring my assistant,” I say,

“She needs the hours, and

You need the water to make you look good.”

“I thought you said I was hot.”

“I said everyone
thinks
you’re hot.”

“You pay someone to help you take pictures?”

“Sort of. She’s more like an intern.”

Sufficiently satisfied with my answers,

Trevor stoops for his man bag, and

Agrees to meet me at the dock

After school tomorrow.

“I JUST FELL OUT OF LOVE WITH HIM,”

Mom says about why she left Dad.

I’d never asked her,

But while my problem is that

I’ve bottled everything up

Mom’s is that she never shuts up.

This is another thing about love

I do not understand.

The word “fall” should not be applied to

Anything but a season.

My grandpa fell last year,

Broke his hip, and

Hasn’t walked normally since.

I fell out of bed as a baby,

Goose-egged my head, and

Cried all night.

Or so Dad says.

Gravity takes complete control

Of things,

Making them fall,

Shatter,

Split,

Separate.

Like my parents,

My family.

Where is this “love” place anyway?

The only thing I imagine when someone says,

“I’m falling in love with him,”

Is pain,

Injury,

Danger,

Death.

Like jumping from an airplane

Without a parachute,

Hoping to hit the magic vortex

Labeled LOVE, and

Find someone there you like enough

To live with forever.

“Not forever,”

I mutter to myself

As I clean up my photography equipment.

Because apparently,

You can fall out of love

Too.

I wonder if falling
out
hurts more than falling
in
,

Or if it’s like

Slipping through the cracks

When no one is looking.

“DAD, WHY DID MOM LEAVE?”

My voice fractures the silence of dinner and

Causes Rose to look up sharply from her spaghetti.

Dad twirls his noodles,

Breathes in deep, and

Meets my eyes.

“I mean, you don’t work late”—

Something I’d heard my BFF Jacey’s mom complain about—

“You make enough money.

I make dinner.

Rose is the cutest thing ever.”

I don’t know why I’m asking.

I don’t really care.

I’ve just been thinking about what Harris said,

Why he thinks he loves me,

What he means by it.

“It’s good spaghetti,” Dad says,

Pointing his fork toward Rose,

Which means,

Let’s talk later.

“Thanks,” I say, answering both his spoken word, and

His unsaid gesture.

“Mom loves us,” Rose blurts,

Her voice too high.

“You told me that, Liv.

Doesn’t she love us?”

“Of course she does,” Dad soothes Rose.

“She did not leave because of you,

Or because I work late or don’t work late,

Or because Olivia burns every chicken dish she attempts.”

Rose chuckles, but the worry

Doesn’t leave her expression.

“You
are
the cutest thing ever,” Dad reassures,

“Mom just needed…

Something else.”

“What?” Rose asks, and I find my mind

Puzzling through the same thing.

Dad sighs, and

Puts down his fork

To pick up his garlic bread.

While I overcook poultry,

I’m killer with baked goods.

“I don’t know, girls.

Honest, I don’t.

I suspect Mom doesn’t even know.”

He looks at his bread

Like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“But it doesn’t matter.

We’re okay.”

He pierces me with his gaze, and

Then Rose.

“Right, girls? We’re okay, right?”

Rose nods, her little chin quivering.

I feel a love so fierce for my father,

That I don’t know how to vocalize my emotions.

So I just nod too.

“YOU IGNORED MY CALLS YESTERDAY.”

The words float behind me,

Frustration,

Not anger,

In Jacey’s words.

“I did not,” I defend

Without turning around.

“I didn’t get them until this morning.”

I pull out my phone and send my best friend a quick text,

Even though Jacey’s standing right behind me.

“I responded.”

Her phone chirps,

This annoying sound of someone saying,

“Hey, psst,”

In a not-so-stage whisper.

I turn as Jacey looks at her phone,

Her black hair falling way past her shoulder

As she ducks her head.

“Smart aleck.”

But she smiles.

“But seriously, what’s with you and Trevor Youngblood?”

I wait for her next question,

Knowing what she’ll say before she says it.

“You’re not hooking up with him, are you?”

We start down the hall to first period.

“I mean, I wouldn’t blame you if you did,

But Harris is more your type.”

What she means is “more available.”

Trevor Youngblood doesn’t have a girlfriend,

But he’s off-limits.

At least to me.

“And,” Jacey continues,

Even as we pass the un-hooked-up-with Youngblood’s locker,

“I’ve already heard three separate rumors about

Why he followed you home yesterday.”

Outside Jacey’s art classroom, she stops.

I do too.

“Did any of the rumors include the word photography?”

Jacey peers at me and

Frowns a little.

“No.”

“Well, I got nominated for the

Junior California Photography in Excellence award, and

I need to submit a portfolio by March.

Trevor is the subject.”

Jacey’s brown eyes couldn’t have gotten wider,

Her gasp louder.

She grips my sleeve and pulls me toward her,

As if we aren’t already close enough, and

The hall isn’t so loud that no one could possibly overhear us.

“I thought you weren’t going to enter.”

“I wasn’t,” I hiss back in the same

half-shocked, half-overjoyed voice

That Jacey used.

Her eyes flicker between mine,

Her hair the only protection

From passing eyes.

I brush my short locks

Away from my face

Though they aren’t long enough

To stay tucked behind my ear.

Jacey leans closer,

And I get an up-close-personal

Look at the skin blemishes

She’s covered with makeup.

“Then why are you snapping shots of the hottest guy in school?”

“First,” I say, “That point is debatable.”

Jacey shakes her head, but I continue.

“Second, I didn’t
ask
him to model for me.

He—”

“I VOLUNTEERED.”

All sound in the hall evaporates.

I stare at Jacey,

But her gaze switches from mine

To Trevor’s behind me.

“I can’t believe you said my hotness is debatable,”

He jokes, and

I wish my throat didn’t tighten

At the low playfulness in his voice.

His arm settles around my shoulders.

“Wings is a heckuva photog,” he informs Jacey,

As if she didn’t already know.

“Even when she wanted me to take off my—”

I shove him away,

Mad, not playful.

“Shut up, you idiot.

I didn’t—have never—asked you to take off anything.”

I make sure my voice is loud enough for everyone to hear.

Trevor laughs. “She manhandled me.”

“I did not!” I cry,

Though I distinctly remember using those words.

“I was
posing
you.”

“Did you or did you not use the word ‘manhandle’?”

“You know what?” I growl.

Jacey grabs my arm as I advance on Trevor.

I vaguely hear her say, “Not worth it, Liv.

Mr. Archibald coming this way.”

“No dock this afternoon,” I say sweetly to Trevor,

Force a smile to my face, and

A chuckle out of my mouth.

I put a flirtatious hand on his chest, and

Fiddle with a button on his shirt though

I want to rip it off and shove it somewhere unpleasant.

“Forget about the portfolio.

You’re not worth the effort.”

I spin,

Air-kiss Jacey on both cheeks

Though I know she sees the fire in my eyes, and

Grin at Vice-Principal Archibald

As he walks by.

At the end of the hall,

I dare to turn back to Jacey’s art classroom.

She and Trevor are arguing, and

Neither looks very happy.

WHAT WERE YOU AND TREVOR TALKING ABOUT?

I text to Jacey

From underneath my desk in health class.

Jacey: When?

Me: Come on. After I walked away before first.

Jacey: I don’t want to tell you.

Me: Are you hooking up with him???

Jacey: Not in the way you think.

Me: Enlighten me.

Jacey:

Me: JC!

Jacey:

“I’M SORRY, OKAY?

Can we still go to the dock this afternoon?”

Trevor is standing outside my health class,

Like he hasn’t even gone to first period.

I bolted as soon as the bell rang, and

He was already there, all Edward-Cullen-stalker style.

I stop,

Appraise him, and

Let my eyes graze from the top of his head

To the expensive Nikes he wears.

“Bring your fishing pole.”

“HARRIS, I NEED TO TELL YOU—”

I can’t finish,

Because we round the corner that leads

To the band room, and

Harris presses me into the wall,

His lips already on mine.

I lose myself to his touch,

His heat,

His passion.

“Come on,” he says,