Hearts, Strings, and Other Breakable Things Page 8
“Dammit!” She dug through the branches, waist-deep in foliage. “Dammit, dammit, dammit!” She leaned forward, pigeon-toed, elbows out, ass in the air. And this, of course, was when she heard Sebastian’s voice.
“Are you beating up that poor fence again?” he called from his driveway.
Edie fluttered a wave, doubtful she could credibly feign deafness or effectively impersonate a cherub statue.
“This time I’m annihilating the azaleas. Next step: pummeling the petunias.” She finally dislodged the book. As she turned toward Sebastian, she brushed greenery from her clothes and glared at the cupids in the corners of the courtyard, marveling at their inept guidance of her love life. Why had they let her shoe-practice near his side of the garden, where all that divided her from Sebastian was a hedgerow, a gravel path, a picket fence, and a lexicon’s worth of unspoken feelings?
“What are you doing?” he asked with a good-humored chuckle.
“Girl-ifying. It’s a trial and error thing. Mostly error.” She placed the book on her head and baby-giraffed her way toward him. “Maria swears I’ll get used to wearing heels, but I don’t know, and Charlotte Brontë would be horrified at how I’m using her work.”
“Jane Eyre?”
“Villette.”
“What’s it about?”
“It’s about six ounces.”
Sebastian laughed in earnest, making the pesky butterflies in Edie’s stomach flutter as she stumbled toward the fence and edged her way past the hedgerows. She caught a toe on a flagstone, nearly belly-flopping onto the gravel path, as anticipated.
“Seven point eight from the American judge.” He mimed holding up a placard.
“What do I have to do to get the full ten?”
“Backflip?”
“You first.”
“Sorry. I’m a ground-under-my-feet kinda guy.” Sebastian ran a hand through his hair as a little nervous laughter escaped. “If Tom were here he’d try it. He’s always been the fun one.”
Edie parked herself by the fence and waited while his expression settled.
“Why do you always do that?” she asked.
“Do what?”
“Compare yourself to someone you’re not.”
He shifted. He shuffled. He shrugged.
“I don’t know,” he said at last. “Doesn’t everyone?”
Edie glanced at her feet. She felt ashamed of herself. Then she felt ashamed for being ashamed. They were just shoes. She wasn’t trying to be Claire any more than Sebastian was trying to be Tom. Yet there they stood, the two of them, both struggling to escape someone else’s shadow and taking the least effective means possible.
Edie was about to apologize when Sebastian patted the top of the fence.
“Want to climb over?” He tipped his chin toward his driveway. “Pavement has to be easier than all those rocky garden paths. And you can lean on my shoulder.”
Edie hesitated. She was pretty sure she couldn’t lean on his shoulder without touching him, and she was dead certain touching him would make her want to do a lot of other things that were totally off-limits. She’d only seen him for a few neighbor-to-neighbor chats over the past couple weeks, but he’d played a key role in some seriously steamy dreams that were still tattooed on her brain.
“What’s the matter?” he teased. “Something wrong with my shoulder?”
“Not exactly.” She carefully assessed his shoulder through his thin, gray T-shirt. He wasn’t all buffed up like athletes or underwear models. He was a bit gangly, as though he hadn’t been hinged perfectly so his joints were too loose, leaving his arms and legs to swing more freely than most. He wasn’t clumsy or awkward. He was just . . . beautiful.
“Fine,” he said. “Have it your way.”
Next thing Edie knew, Sebastian was hauling himself over the fence and leaping down by her side. As she laughed at his less-than-graceful dismount, he steadied himself and held out an elbow. Edie eyed it like forbidden fruit.
“Shall we?” he asked, the same way he’d asked her to dance, calling up memories she’d been trying not to obsess about, wondering if he’d felt anything at all when he held her close as the music swelled and the stars came out.
That was just a dance, she told herself. This is just a walk.
“Okay,” she said. “But I’m not sure who’s supporting whom.”
“Interesting.” He gave her a little nudge. “I like the sound of that.”
Edie took Sebastian’s arm and the two of them set off down the gravel path. Every few seconds, Edie wobbled. Just as often, Sebastian fake-wobbled, sending them both into little fits of laughter. His cheerful company was exactly what Edie’d been craving when she strapped on the shoes. As they reached the benches near the fountain, Edie set her book by her bag. She didn’t need it, not when she had Sebastian’s arm to rely on.
Her eye caught on the little box where it was peeking out from her bag. Maria must’ve jostled it while she was extracting the book. Either that or Henry’s demonic powers were deliberately invading her perfectly wonderful stroll with Sebastian, forcing her to think about the last person in the world she wanted on her mind in that moment.
“So, what’s that really about?” Sebastian asked.
Edie prickled with anxiety as her mind raced for an explanation that wasn’t there. Then she realized Sebastian meant the book, not the box. She shut Henry out of her thoughts yet again and locked her eyes on the novel. A light breeze fanned the dog-eared pages, many of them marked with blue ink where Edie’d underlined her favorite phrases and sentences, words she swore Charlotte Brontë had written just for her.
“A woman finding her voice,” Edie said. “And unrequited love.”
“She doesn’t get the guy?”
“He’s in love with someone else.” Edie forced a lighthearted tone as they set off toward the fence again, leaving both book and box behind. “Someone prettier and more confident.” She stumbled, gripping Sebastian’s arm more tightly. When he pulled his arm against his side, she considered stumbling again. “The story’s not totally tragic, though. There’s a second guy, one who loves her back.”
“So it has a happy ending?”
“It has a surprise ending. I don’t want to spoil it for you.”
Sebastian nodded, Edie teetered, and they shared one of those comfortable silences they were so good at. As they turned onto the path that paralleled the fence, Edie began to wonder how anyone wore heels in gravel without something solid to hold on to. In fact, how did anyone do anything without something to hold on to? Or someone? Without Shonda, Edie wasn’t part of an us anymore. She was only a me. The feeling was wearing on her, even though Maria’s friends were nice and Julia was fun to be around sometimes. No one in Mansfield shared Edie’s interests, her goals, her anxieties. No one except—
“Got a quote for me?” Sebastian asked. “Something from your friend Charlotte? The latest addition to your collection?”
Edie adjusted her hold on his arm as she thought through all the beautiful words she’d read and reread, elegant and gloriously relatable phrases about hope, desire, and the endless struggle to reconcile oneself with the unfairness of the world.
“‘If life be a war, it seemed my destiny to conduct it single-handed.’”
“Damn.” He shook his head, incredulous. “That’s impressive.”
“Not weird?”
“A little weird, but still impressive.” Sebastian smiled. His hint of flattery painted another blush on her cheeks. He cupped a hand over hers where it wrapped his elbow. His gesture was simple but it felt surprisingly intimate, especially when it dusted his cheeks with pink as well. The pair walked on, each sneaking glances at the other, but Sebastian’s attention was soon drawn to something over her shoulder. “Hey, look at that.” He stopped and peeled back a thin strip of white paint near the top of a picket, revealing a flash of bright yellow.
Edie’s lingering bout of loneliness fell away, replaced by a little surge of joy.
“My dad thought our Oz was a masterpiece,” Sebastian said.
“My mom laughed her ass off at our flying monkeys.” Edie’s throat tightened. “But she loved our Emerald City.”
“I couldn’t believe the way you remembered all the details from the book.” He peeled away another white sliver, creating a yellow spot the size of his thumb. “I thought you were the smartest girl in the whole world.”
Edie braced herself against the hedge, unsure how to respond. Sebastian might’ve admired her at age seven, and even at ten, but what did he think of her now?
“How many coats did your grandma make us paint over everything?” he asked.
“Three, I think. Four wherever she could still see the glitter.”
Sebastian shoved his hands into his pockets and studied the fence. His face twitched the way it always did when he was deep in thought.
“I miss hanging out and making up worlds with you,” he said, “back when my dad would hand us paintbrushes and say, ‘Have at it.’ When no one read off postgraduate employment statistics over dinner or emailed me comparative salary charts.” His jaw tensed as his shoulders inched higher. “Sometimes I worry I’ll spend my whole life doing what other people expect me to do, not what I want to do. You ever feel that way?”
Edie squinted at him. Was he still talking about his parents or was he asking about other “other people”? He was close enough for her to see the gray speckles in his pale blue eyes, but she couldn’t for the life of her make out what lay behind them.
“I think it’s usually worth making your own choices,” she said. As his shoulders relaxed and his expression softened, she flashed back to the moment when a car door slammed and Shonda ran across the parking lot. Alone. “As long as they don’t hurt anyone,” she added quickly.
He backed against a nearby elm tree, suddenly solemn, slipping his hands out of his pockets and jamming them in again, as if whatever indecision he was wrestling with had trickled to his fingertips.
“And if there’s no way to avoid hurting someone?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” Edie considered the matter, unsure why he was treating her like some sort of expert. “Hide in your room, watch funny cat videos, and hope things sort themselves out?” She searched for his smile. She didn’t find it. “Sorry. Bad plan. I know from experience.” She joined him by the tree, steadying herself on the fence, wondering why he was using a tree and she was using a picket if they were supposed to be supporting each other. “Honestly? I guess you just weigh the options and do the best you can. If you mess things up, you try to mess them up a little less the next time.”
“There you go, being all smart again,” he said as his smile finally emerged.
“It’s only fair while you’re being all nice.”
“Am I nice?” he asked. “Sometimes I wonder.”
They shared another silence, this one a little less comfortable. The tree cast shifting shadows and sunlight across Sebastian’s dimpled cheeks as if it were toying with his features and teasing out his smile. A breeze ruffled his hair the way Edie’s fingers might if she reached forward and drew him toward her. His lips would meet hers. His hands would slide up her shirt, molding to her shoulder blades while he held her against him. She’d press herself even closer. The collar of her shirt would slip off her shoulder, peeled away by gentle fingers as Sebastian’s cheek brushed hers and his lips tickled her skin in that little spot where her pulse was pounding, pushing, hammering away and— Wait, was that a hickey on his neck?
Edie’s gathering butterflies instantly grounded themselves. Right. Sebastian had a girlfriend. No matter how sweetly he smiled, how eagerly he leapt over fences, how often he shared emotional truths with the sort of intimacy Edie rarely felt with anyone, or how quickly her mind wandered to places it shouldn’t whenever he was close by, he only thought of her as a friend. She should only be thinking of him as a friend.
“I think I’m good with the shoes,” she blurted.
“You sure?” Sebastian stepped forward. “We could do one more lap.”
Edie staggered backwards.
“Can’t.” She pointed over her shoulder, floundering for an excuse to bolt. “There’s a . . . thing . . . in the thing, that I need to do the”—she circled a hand—“with.”
“Sounds urgent,” he teased through a chuckle. “See you at Rupert’s party?”
Edie nodded and edged toward the fountain, narrowly avoiding a collision with the nearest hedgerow. Sebastian clambered over the fence, narrowly avoiding a full face-plant onto his driveway. They both scrambled to regain their composure. Poorly.
“Leave some space in that collection of yours,” he called as he jogged away. “I’ll bring you a quote to add to it tomorrow. I have some catching up to do.”
“Sebastian, I—”
“Gotta go! There’s a thing in the thing.”
Edie trailed his departure, pressing a hand against her gut where a single butterfly of anticipation flapped its stubborn little wings, determined to fly.
Chapter Ten
* * *
Rupert’s parents’ house quickly filled with girls in tight dresses and guys in tight jeans. The electronic dance music began to throb from the basement. The air grew thick with the smell of cold pizza and spilled beer, even though caviar and Cabernet might’ve fit better with the formal décor. Maria proudly played hostess, a mirror image of her mother two weeks earlier. Julia followed Henry around while trying ineffectively to be subtle about it. Claire barnacled herself to Sebastian and chatted cheerfully with virtually everyone, displaying an enviable ability to charm a room. Henry flirted with too many girls to count, exchanging a few carefully selected Shakespeare lines for a blush, a sigh, and eventually a phone number. Through it all, Edie parked herself against walls, quietly observing everyone despite Maria’s emphatic instructions to have fun, or at least pretend to have fun. It was always hard to tell at a party who was doing which.
Two hours after arriving, Edie scrounged together a vodka-cranberry and settled herself in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, where she was within view of the tall blond guy who’d promised her a quote but hadn’t yet delivered one. As she tried to catch his eye across the crowded room, a group of Rupert’s friends pushed past her on their way into the kitchen, jostling her drink, stepping on her toes, and making her wish she’d worn a suit of armor instead of three-inch heels and a flimsy chiffon dress Maria had loaned her. She felt even more underdressed when Henry passed through from the kitchen and ran his eyes over the length of her body.
“Damn, you look good in blue.” He sipped something that smelled like barbecue-flavored nail polish remover.
“And you’d look spectacular in vodka-cranberry.” She raised her cup and tilted it toward him. “We could coin a new cocktail: the pink bastard.”
While Henry laughed, Edie’s eyes crept toward Sebastian again. His arm circled Claire’s waist. Her head rested on his shoulder. Her hand lay against his chest. Envy rippled across Edie’s skin like a thousand tiny pinpricks, followed swiftly by the dull ache of shame. She shouldn’t have gotten all dolled up tonight. What had she been thinking? She could ride in on a star-spangled elephant, juggling live toads, and belting out the annoying jingle from the Burger Barn ads. Sebastian’s attention would stay glued to his girlfriend, and rightly so. Considering how often Edie’d been described as smart, she was making some really dumb choices lately.
“It’ll never make you happy,” Henry reminded her.
“No one asked you.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
Edie shot him a
look of pure loathing, but he didn’t take the hint. Instead he leaned against the nearby bookshelves and lazily swirled his drink.
“Did you like my present?” he asked as if already certain of her answer.
“I didn’t open it. I threw it away.”
He studied her for a moment, slyly smirking.
“No, you didn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“I play a lot of poker. I know a bluff when I see it.” He continued watching her with his trademark air of arrogance and amusement.
Edie tried not to squirm, frustrated she couldn’t manage even the simplest lie. The box was in her bedside table, unopened but not yet discarded. It was her private battle with temptation, one she was determined to win. Eventually.
“I’m really not interested,” she reiterated for the umpteenth time.
“Doesn’t mean you’re not curious.” Henry reached behind her ear, produced a tiny white rose, and held it out.
“Doesn’t mean I’m anything other than not interested.” Edie took the rose and dropped it into his drink. Then she turned to depart for a less Crawford-infested locale.
She’d barely stepped forward when Julia emerged from the throng in the kitchen. Her eyes were glassy. Her breath reeked of fruity wine spritzers. An empty plastic cup dangled from her fingers.
“Edie! Henry! Hi!” she sputtered as she stumbled into the living room.
Henry leapt forward to prevent her fall. Julia let her cup drop as she melted against his chest. He shrugged as if pretty girls fell into his arms all the time and there was nothing he could do about it.
“I love you,” Julia said. “And I need to pee.”
“Dare you to find the Shakespeare quote to fit that one,” Edie challenged.
“Think I’ll just help her to the bathroom.” In one swift movement, Henry swept the gangly girl into his arms, tucking her knees over his elbow as she draped her arms around his neck.