Tangled Thoughts (7 page)

“Maybe thank me
now
,” Serena said, pulling a slightly grease-stained brown bag from her satchel and holding it out to me. “Because I brought the goods.”

I practically dove across the coffee table to snatch it out of her hands. In the apartment, I kept almost no food, only basic non-perishable or frozen things. In other words,
nothing
like the huge, perfect, bacon-egg-and-cheese sandwich I was now stuffing into my face. It was even still a little warm. Heaven.

“Thank you,” I mumbled through my full mouth and Serena laughed. While I chewed, my friends continued to bond against me.

“So you're the genius I always hear about?” Serena asked.

“Every fabulous inch of me.”

“So you couldn't, like, calculate the ratio of alcohol to food to body weight or whatever and not get drunk?”

I snorted, and Amy pulled out one of her most dramatic sighs. “I
could
have, I suppose, but I was distracted by shirtless bass players and Lainey flirting with Mr. H.O.T., aka Hot Older TA.” Shit. If I'd been close enough, I'd have made Serena forget Amy just said that. Instead, I had to settle for smacking my best friend probably harder than I should have. “Ow.”

Serena looked back and forth between the two of us, and before I finished swallowing to say
something
, she said, “A hot TA?
Our
TA? J. Kensington?”

Amy positively glittered. “If the J. Stands for Jack, then yeah. Oh, yeah.”

“I
wasn't
flirting,” I finally got out.

It was Amy's turn to snort. I glared daggers at her, but when did that ever do anything but encourage her? “You were Lainey-flirting so hard.”

“I don't even know what that means!”

“
I
do,” Serena said. “I've seen you in class. You're most deadly when you're
not
flirting, doing your whole sweet-and-innocent thing.”

“I'm not—it's not a thing!” I interjected, but they were ignoring me now.

Amy did her best—which was really good—impression of my voice. She flipped a piece of hair over her shoulder. “Hi helpless boy, I'm over here blushing and stammering atop my mile-long legs. Which do you want to do first: fall in love with me or buy me a beer?”

“I still haven't decided against killing you. Remember that.” I flicked my fingers at her before I got up to throw out my trash. I knew full well they were going to continue talking about this as soon as I stepped away. So I listened from the kitchen, curious yet hating myself for it at the same time.

“Are you busting her balls or is this serious?” Serena asked. She'd lowered her voice, but I could still hear them just fine.

“Both,” Amy admitted. I could hear her shifting on the couch, probably rolling over so she could better see Serena's reaction.

“You better tell me
all
of it! I
thought
he always seems a little extra into her in discussion. In a good way.”

“Oh, he's into her all right. I'm pretty sure—by which I mean
entirely
sure, because I
am
a genius—if it weren't for the pesky TA thing, he'd have been taking her home by the end of the night. Or sooner.”

I suppressed a squeak of outrage. I was
not
that kind of girl. Serena made this kind of hissing sound through her teeth that seemed like approval. “Hell, yes. This is perfect. Why does she seem freaked out about it?”

“Because that's how Lainey
is
. This is
exactly
what she needs, so she'll completely try to avoid it. Plus, she has some…baggage. And an ex—that
she
made an ex—but I think…” Amy had been dropping her voice lower and lower, forcing me to creep closer to the living room door, so I had no trouble hearing when she shouted “…that she's
totally
eavesdropping and might as well just come back and
talk
to us!”

Busted.

“This is
not
what I need,” I told them as I returned to the living room. I pushed Amy's feet out of the way again so I could sit. When she tried to plop them back in my lap, I pushed them off then too.

She huffed, but despite her renewed energy around the topic of my not-so-love life, she was still in no condition to fight back. Words always worked fine for her though. “Just by saying that,” she said, one arm back covering her eyes, “you've proved it true.”

“It's not!”

“Lainey,” Serena soothed. “Tell me you haven't thought about it.”

I opened my mouth to lie and silence fell out. Amy snickered and I slapped her foot. “You need a bigger couch!” she grumbled. “And to get la—”

“AMY! Jesus. Could you not? That's not happening.”

“Would you like it to?” Serena countered. Amy held out her fist and Serena tapped it.

“God. The two of you. This was a mistake.”

“On the contrary, Lane, I think this—and one H.O.T.—is just what you needed.”

“Shut up.”

“I like your friend,” Serena said, smiling with all her teeth.

“
I
don't. And,” I added, unable to let it go, “just for the record, I would
not
have gone home with him. I'm not that kind of girl.”

Serena kind of snort-laughed, while Amy rolled her eyes. “If you say so.”

“I do. And I'd like to stop talking about this, please.”

Amy sighed. “So this is about to get boring? I'm going to take a nap. I've got to rally.” She poured herself over the edge of the couch and trudged toward her room. With a little wave, she called back to Serena, “Nice meeting you.”

“You too,” Serena replied, before she turned earnest eyes on me. “Lainey, for real though, if he—”

“Please let's drop it.”

“Just hear me out—if he's into you, and you're into him, what's the problem? The TA thing will end soon enough. It's not complicated.”

Behind me, Amy froze a step before continuing on. I sucked in a breath and let it out, slowly. Amy had once said something so similar to me. About Carter. And I'd believed her at the time.

But it
had
turned out to be complicated—so complicated. And no matter what Serena said, the Jack situation was
already
complicated. It wasn't what I needed; it was everything I was trying to avoid.

Wasn't it?

B
Y THE
T
IME
Serena and I were wrapping up, Amy was back and looking more human. And I, well, I'd done a good job for a while of ignoring a familiar twist in my stomach.

“I think you'll get an A,” Amy said.

“I hope so.” I closed my laptop along with my eyes and leaned my head back on the couch. I was exhausted.

“We will,” Serena said, not in a way that sounded like convincing yourself, but like she believed it. I envied her confidence. “You know,” she added, giving the living room again an appraising eye. “For all you want to do all our projects on antiques, this place doesn't
look
like it's full of old things. Except for that.” She pointed at my armoire, which did happen to be the oldest piece in the apartment, though not the oldest I owned. “And that.” She indicated the early 1900s copy of
Modern Poetry
on one of the end tables.

“Oh, God,” Amy said. She set her mug of tea on the coffee table rather dramatically and covered her ears. “Please don't get her going.”

“
You
can go any time, you know.” She stuck her tongue out at me and made no moves to leave. “They're not all strictly antiques,” I told Serena, “though you're right, that one
is
old. It's French, early 1800s.” It was beautiful and gleaming, with a color so deep it was almost black.

“It cost more than a car,” Amy interjected and Serena's eyes went a little wide.

“It didn't,” I said, but after a look from Amy, I conceded, “it didn't cost more than a new”—Amy narrowed her eyes—“
most
new cars. But anyway, the rest of the living room is mostly fifties. Because antique couches aren't always comfortable or practical.”

“Because white is practical?” Serena slid her fingers over the creamy leather.

“It washes we—” I started to say before I recognized she was grinning at me and Amy couldn't stifle a giggle. “Oh, the two of you! Jesus. I should
not
have introduced you. Leave my furniture alone.”

“Aw,” Serena soothed. “Don't get upset.”

“We kid because we care, Lane.” Amy yawned and stretched, but still made no moves to get up even while Serena was packing her things.

“It's cute,” Serena continued. “I like your…well, it's more than a hobby.”

“Yeah,” I said. “It is.”

“How did you even get into it?”

“Skills of a misspent youth,” Amy piped in. “This is what happens when you don't go to school.”

“I went to school.” I stood, ready to see Serena out, but she was looking slightly confused. “You know about my aunt, and how we traveled a lot. She always liked to go to antique stores, flea markets, things like that, for inspiration. Salvage yards too. I've seen so many rusted out and cool old cars, I should have taken up photography. Anyway, I liked them too, the shops, with all the old pretty things. I had tutors and school work goes a lot faster when you're the
only
student.”

“So you spent your free time studying antiques?”

“Some of it, yeah. It's hard to have friends when you're constantly on the move…but everywhere we went, there were new antique stores.”

Serena threw her bag over her shoulder, saying, “You know, now that I see this place and everything…I get you more. That's a compliment,” she added quickly. “You're interesting. I get why your homework is always done early. I get why”—she cut her eyes to a still-lounging Amy—“what did you call him again?”

“H.O.T.?”

“Yeah,” Serena said. “I get why Mr. H.O.T is into you, too.”

“He's not—” I started, but Amy made a noise in the back of her throat, and Serena cut me off before I could say anything more.

“He is.” I kept my mouth closed, because that twist in my stomach was rolling again, and I was half hoping, half hating that what she said might be true. “I get it,” she repeated. “And thanks for letting me come over. I get why you don't invite people here too.”

She gave me a quick hug as we said goodbye, and I closed the door behind her feeling like I—finally—had another friend.

My old friend was still waiting for me in the living room. I settled back onto my end of the couch and put my feet up on the coffee table.

“What're you doing tonight?” Amy asked as I sat down.

“I think you're looking at it.” I glanced over at her. Maybe this was what she wanted to talk about. “Did you want to just stay here? Get takeout and watch a movie?”

She shook her head. “I mean, I do, but I should go. I have a date later.”

“A
what
?”

She grinned. “A
phone
date.”

“On Saturday night?”

Amy wrapped one of her curls around her finger. “It's the only time Caleb's roommate isn't around.”

“What difference does—” I started to say, but I figured it out by the way Amy's grin had spread. I felt my cheeks light up and I put my hands over them. “Ew. Okay. Well, have fun then.”

She opened her mouth to say something, then paused. Instead of whatever she
really
wanted to talk about, she nodded toward the door and said, “She was cool.”

“She is,” I agreed. “She's…kind of like you; I wondered if you'd get along.”

Amy cut me a look. “You doubted me? I get along with
everyone
.”

“Oh yeah?” I laughed. “Since when? You tolerate your roommate, you hate your lab partner, and let's not even
mention
a few names from high school.”

Bingo. A look passed over Amy's face, like I'd just opened a door she'd been locked on the other side of. She cleared her throat delicately. “Speaking of high school—”

“No, Ame.”

“We can't even talk about it?”

I shook my head. “I shouldn't have mentioned it. I'm not coming.” Next weekend was homecoming. I stood up and walked over to my fireplace. On the mantel were two silver candlesticks, one of them dented. I touched that one, letting the familiar hum of its macabre history buzz beneath my fingertips, though I didn't let the vision come.

Amy was standing now too. “Don't you want to see our friends?”

“I do,” I said while I bent to turn on the gas burner so I could light the flames, “but I'm not going.”

“What about Brooke?” she pressed. “Don't you miss her?” That hurt, and Amy knew it. My lips flattened into a thin line, but I didn't say anything. I did miss Brooke. I felt shitty enough about how I'd left our friendship, and the urge to text her, to apologize was strong. But I just couldn't do it. Brooke was Sententia, and if I stayed in touch with her, I'd still be connected. I'd had to let her go.

“Lane,” Amy continued, and the tone in her voice finally made me turn around. She didn't look angry, or irritated, which I'd have preferred. She looked…sad. It hurt to think I was making her sad. “I don't understand.” She sank back onto the couch and I moved to sit next to her.

“I know. But I do. You don't have to make excuses for me. Just say hi to…everyone for me.”

Her pretty brown eyes, which were tired but clear now and always too smart, didn't waver from mine as she asked, “Is Carter part of ‘everyone'?”

I blew out a puff of air. Hearing her say his name hurt too. “I think it's best if you just don't mention me to him at all. If he's even there.”

“That's really why, right? You don't want to risk seeing him?”