Sometimes Never (11 page)

             
Kellin beams at Mason. “You skipped school?”

             
“He was sick,” I say with a smirk.

             
“Uh-huh, sick. Right. I won’t say anything, but you better not forget my free day.”

             
“I’m certain you’ll make sure I remember,” Mason sighs.

~***~

              We make it back to the house just as Park pulls in with Guy and Chase. “Hey, Hope,” Chase calls as he climbs out of the car. He holds a bag up above his head. “Can you do my hair?”

             
“Sure. What color?”

             
“Green.”

             
“The color of money,” Guy states dryly. “Because it’s the only way we’ll ever see it.”

             
Park comes around the car. I feel my heart thump wildly. I turn and start heading to the house. Mason and Kellin plop down on the steps to wait for Misty. I decide I’m going to sit and wait with them, but Park takes my wrist before I get there. He swings me around into his chest and slides his hands into my back pockets. His lips slide over my neck and panic hits me. I’m not with Park technically. I’m not with Mason. But I freeze, unsure what to do. I feel wrong. I sense that I’m
doing something
wrong.

             
My hands hover in the air at my sides. Someone takes my arm, pulling me away from Park and it’s not until I turn that I see it’s Guy. “Break time’s later. Miss Love’s hair expertise is needed.” He winks and releases me.

             
“I’m thinking just the tips this time,” Chase says. I keep walking, not looking back at Park, but I glance at Mason. He’s looking at Kellin, nodding at whatever story he’s being told. I exhale a long breath, relieved he didn’t witness Park’s display. He looks over as I pass him.  Our eyes meet and I realize he did see it. He gets up and follows me inside.

             
“Where’s the dye towel?” Chase asks.

             
“Laundry room. On the shelf,” I say. Mason steps in front of me as Chase turns away. He puts his hands in his pockets, but leans into my personal space.

             
“That kind of sucked for me. I think I’m going to head home.”

             
“I don’t know what to say,” I admit.

             
“I don’t either. I know it shouldn’t bother me, but it does.” He takes a deep breath, moving his hand, gesturing from him to me. “I don’t know what we are, but I think there’s something here.”

             
“I don’t do relationships. I told you that,” I say defensively.

             
He takes a step closer to me and I have to force myself not to back up. “We both know that’s bullshit.” He rubs his face and sighs. “I don’t wanna rush you or freak you out.” I can nearly hear the missing “again.” “But what you have with Guy, that’s a relationship. It may be friendship, but it’s still a relationship. How you are with Dylan, you treat him like a little brother, that’s a relationship. The way you protected Annie, doing Chase’s hair, comforting Archer the other night, those are all relationships, and you’re good at them. And Park, he’s your boyfriend, whether you know it or not. That guy puts his hands on you any time he feels like it. Every time he does, he’s claiming you as his.”

             
I stand there in shock, searching for some argument to disprove him. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he says suddenly. “Damn it. I’m sorry. I don’t care. I’ll deal with it. I had no right to say those things. I’m cool now.” He runs his fingers through his hair and shakes his head again. “Fuck. Say something, Hope.”

             
“I still don’t know what to say,” I whisper.

             
We stand there staring at each other until Chase comes back. He looks back and forth between us. “Did I interrupt something? I can go…”

             
“No, man. S’all good,” Mason says. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” He says to me and I nod, letting him leave and do what I do best. I push everything away as I work on Chase’s hair.

~***~

              I stare at my phone, debating. It’s a good argument between me and myself. In the end, I win. So I text Mason.

             
Me: SO DID U KNOW THAT WHEN UR LITTLE COUSIN ASKS YOU TO DYE A STRIP OF HER HAIR NEON GREEN THAT U SHOULD ADAMENTLY DECLINE?

             
Me: CUZ I DIDN’T.

             
Him: NO YOU DIDN’T.

             
Me: I DID. SHE BEGGED ME.

             
Him: WHICH COUSIN?

             
Me: …ADDIE.

             
Him: HOW MUCH TROUBLE ARE YOU IN?

             
Me: UG. WAY 2 MUCH.

             
Him: WHAT’S THE SENTENCE?

             
Me: I HAVE 2 PERFORM AT THE PARTY.

             
Him: THE BAND?

             
Me: THE BAND WAS ALREADY GOING 2 PLAY. BUT NOW I HAVE 2 PLAY SOLO FOR EVERYONE. PLUS SING.

             
Me: I WILL PROBABLY BE SMASHED BY THE TIME U ARRIVE.

             
Him: SMASHED? WAIT. YOU SING?

             
Me: SMASHED AS IN HAMMERED. SHIT FACED. INEBRIATED. DRUNK. AND NO, I DO NOT SING. THAT IS THE PROBLEM. JENNY IS TORTURING ME.

             
Me: I’M CHANGING HER NAME TO EVIL STEP MOTHER.

             
Him: HEY THAT REMINDS ME. YOU NEVER TOLD ME WHAT U NAMED ME.

             
Me: GUESS U WILL JUST HAVE 2 WAIT UNTIL TOMORROW.

             
Him: SUCCUBUS.

             
Me: PANTSLESS THE BOY WONDER.

             
Him: PUBLIC PUKER.

             
Me: HEY MASON, WILL U BUY ME SUM TAMPONS?

             
Him: WILL YOU EAT A CARROT?

             
Me: DO U SMELL CHLORINE?

             
Him: DO YOU SMELL COMMITMENT?

             
Me: WOW. U WENT THERE.

             
Him: I DID.

             
Me: U WIN THIS ROUND. WELL PLAYED SIR. WELL PLAYED.

             
Him: I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU GAVE UP SO EASILY.

             
Me: I DIDN’T GIVE UP. I GAVE U THE WIN. IT’S CHARITY BCUZ I PITY U.

             
Him: OUCH. THAT HIT RIGHT IN THE EGO.

             
Me: I THINK THEY HAVE A PILL FOR THAT.

             
Him: YOU ARE THE MEANEST PERSON I KNOW.

             
Me:  R U SURE? CUZ U KNOW 1,100 PEOPLE. 1 HAS 2 BE MEANER THAN ME.

             
Him: NO. I’M SURE.

             
Me: I SHOULD WIN SOMETHING THEN.

             
Him: WHAT DO YOU WANT?

             
Oh dear Buddha. What do I want? That is such a loaded question and he knows it. He’s the one who pointed out that I have issues admitting what I want. I think he’s testing me. My fingers are practically begging for me to hit the U. But maybe he’s just testing the waters after what happened this afternoon. Maybe it’s an innocent question. So much time has gone by without me answering. What’s he thinking while he’s waiting for my reply? Is he nervous? Irritated? Is he even waiting? Maybe he’s playing Halo or watching TV.

             
Me: I’LL HAVE 2 GET BACK 2 U ON THAT 1.

             
Him: I’LL BE WAITING.

             
What does that mean? Great. Does he even understand the mind games he’s playing with me? Yes. Yes, I think he does. I think he also enjoys it. The sad thing is I do too.
Damn
.

             
Me: NIGHT.

             
Him: GOODNIGHT HOPE.

             
Yeah right. I doubt it.

13

Mason

              Mom drops me and Kellin off at Hope’s before she goes to work. Guy gave me the option of staying the night or having Park take me home. I haven’t made my mind up yet, but the prospect of sleeping in the same house as Hope is excruciatingly appealing.

             
There are cars parked up both sides of the street. The driveway’s full. And there are even several vehicles in the front yard. Mom gives me a hard look. “This is a birthday party for her dad?”

             
“Foster dad, yeah.”

             
“Don’t get in any trouble and keep an eye on your brother,” she says.

             
“I’ll guard him with my life,” I promise.

             
Guy’s dad has good taste in music. Old southern rock plays loudly from the backyard. Kellin trails behind me as I head for the gate following the party sounds and the lines of white Christmas lights.

             
I stop just inside the yard as I take in the scene. There are small round tables everywhere, more white lights looping throughout. A buffet table is set up alongside the garage and there are large speakers on either side of a makeshift stage. It reminds me more of an outdoor wedding than a birthday celebration.

             
The music cuts off and as I turn, my breath catches and something sticks in my throat, like a lung, or my heart, or something. Hope stands center stage wearing a light blue sundress that sways just above her knees and reveals a small amount of creamy white cleavage. Her hair is pulled up in a series of twists and braids showing off her neck and shoulders. And I’m pretty sure I can see traces of make-up on her face other than her usual lip gloss. She’s so pretty.

             
Guy unfolds a chair and Hope sits, gliding her dress up her thighs as he then hands her a cello. She places it between her legs and sits up straight. The moment is surreal. I’ve never seen anything more heart wrenchingly beautiful. Nothing, nobody has ever affected me as she does now. I can’t take my eyes off her. I don’t want to look at anything else ever again. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. I click several pictures before she even starts playing.

             
And when her bow touches the strings and the first note sounds, the entire yard goes still. Everybody stops there idle chatter, enthralled with the sweet sounds infecting their senses. I click more pictures because Hope’s face has changed. Her eyes are closed, but there is this freedom that relaxes her features. A small smile plays at her lips.

             
I am absurdly in love with this girl.

             
The song ends, but Hope stays where she is. Everyone erupts with applause. Her cheeks flame with embarrassment and I smile. The rest of the band climbs on stage. Guy picks up his guitar, Chase takes the bass, and Park holds a microphone. I don’t know what I expected, but for some reason, I thought Guy was the lead singer. Now as Park stands behind the mic stand, everything about him screams rock star. The ripped skinny jeans, the faded Ramones tee shirt. The stick straight hair strategically styled in a messy, just-woke-up way. But mostly it’s his confidence. Like the stage is his home. His comfort zone.

             
Park smirks at Hope, holding her gaze as she lifts her bow, the cello leading them into their first song. And they’re good. Really good. I’m in awe as I listen to each piece that makes up the band. Hope’s hands are a blur as she transforms her classical cello into an instrument of rock. Park sings the lyrics, that I know came from Hope, in a smooth tenor that somehow reflects an internal aching. Halfway through the chorus, I decide I’m a fan.
Maybe It’s a Catastrophe
might be my new favorite band. By the second song, when Hope takes a seat behind the drum set, I confirm it.

             
Kellin tries to talk to me, I think to say how good they are, but I wave him off, desperate to hear every second of the music. The hour flies by and Park announces their last song.

             
He holds out the microphone as Hope moves around to the front of the stage. Strands of loose hair stick to her neck with sweat and I swallow tightly, nearly groaning with want—no the need—to run my tongue over her neck. I click one more picture, never wanting to forget how sexy she looks.

             
I snap out of my ogling as she accepts the mic, her hand shaking nervously. I cringe internally as Park kisses her cheek and jumps off the stage not far from me. He crosses his arms and stares up at her, nodding when she meets his eyes pleadingly.