Glimpse: Book One of the Glimpse Quartet, page 9
There is nowhere left to run.
Chapter Thirteen
Blair
“You’re thinking about him again,” Gia says on the way to third period.
“I don’t give two shits about Liam.”
Her lips purse in a knowing , obnoxious way. “Then how’d you know who I was talking about?”
My answering glare could wither flowers, but it does nothing against Gia’s indomitable spirit. In the quiet of my own head, I can admit that there is something intriguing about his constant brooding—even if he is rude and unsociable. But I could never say as much to her.
“What is it this time? The eyes? Or the hair?” She presses.
I roll my eyes and check the time on my phone. We still have two minutes before the bell rings, and there is a zero percent chance she will let me escape early. “G—”
“Oh, I know . It’s those sexy motorcycle boots. I’m telling you. I would let him—”
“New topic.” I know she’ll honor the deal we made when we were ten, no matter how much she wants to interrogate me.
“Boring,” she sighs. “But fine. How’s the college stuff going?”
Ah, college. The only thing I want to talk about less than Liam. “Still waiting to hear.”
“As if you don’t know . I bet you’ll get into every program in the country.”
I rub my eyes with my thumb and middle finger. “It doesn’t matter where I get in if I don’t get enough scholarship money to get there.” If I have to stay in town after graduation, I might have to take up drinking too.
“Don’t worry about that.” She rubs my shoulder and smiles. “They’ll be begging to have you after all that community service.”
“It would be nice to know I didn’t sacrifice my social life for nothing.” Not that I ever had much hope according to popular opinion. “Speaking of, if I’m not ass to chair when the bell rings, Mr. Ingall is going to make me read to the class.”
“See you later.” She waves me off and turns for the sociology room next door.
I take my usual seat in the second row, waiting for Isaac Watts to take his usual place next to me, a strategic choice on my part since his family spent an entire summer in France and he picked up a decent amount.
Instead of Isaac, a striking blond takes the open seat. It takes me a second to place him, but when he flashes his dimples, I recognize him immediately.
“Hey, waitress.” His accent is more charming this close. That, or I can’t think straight when he’s looking at me.
“Vaughn, right?”
He smiles. “You remembered.” His teeth are straighter than the stereotypes led me to believe.
“It’s not every day you hear a name like Vaughn.”
“Trouble is, I never got your name. Unless you’d like me to keep calling you waitress?”
“Blair.” Though I suppose “waitress” is better than most of the things Alicia whispers under her breath. Or writes on the bathroom stalls.
The look on his face is hard to place. The longer I look, the less I can make it out. “That’s a lovely name,” he says, keeping his eyes on me long after class starts and Mr. Ingall introduces him as a new student.
Ash Wood has never seen such upheaval. Two new students in the same year are newsworthy to say the least. And the fact that he keeps making faces at me makes it impossible to conjugate verbs.
At the end of class, he falls into step beside me.
“So you’re a new student here?” As if we didn’t sit through class together just now.
“Hope it’s okay I’m on your turf.”
Without anything else nearby to fiddle with, I pull the straps of my backpack together over my chest. “I guess we can make a little room for you. But why did you start so late?”
“It’s only third period.”
“Yeah, but we met like a month ago.”
He runs his hands through his hair and nudges my arm with his elbow. “Well, for a minute there I was planning to drive straight through to Vegas. But I just had to see you again.”
I have to press my lips together to keep from smiling, cheesy as his line is. “Yikes. Stalk much?”
“Wait until you find me in all your classes.”
“So you’re on your way to AP Gov?” I call his bluff, keeping my smile in check. His vintage Nike shoes and deep red shirt would make him stand out in any crowd, but especially in Ash Wood.
“Bollocks. I thought you had Statistics next.”
I point down the hallway we’re about to pass so he doesn’t miss it. “Third door on the left.”
“Brilliant. I still expect the full tour later.” The wildness in his eyes sticks in my brain long after he walks away. He has the kind of energy best suited for late night shenanigans and running from the police. Definitely trouble.
When I finally get to the cafeteria, I still have a dumb grin plastered on my face. And even though I know it looks ridiculous, I cannot let it go.
“Don’t look now, but I think you’re smiling.” Gia greets me in the doorway.
“Shut up.” I push her into the caf before she can scrutinize me.
“You’re in a good mood. Does that mean we can go off campus?” She puts her hands together in front of her to emphasize her plea.
I shrug, knowing I’ve put in more than enough hours at Renos to deserve a lunch. “Okay.”
“Yes! Let’s go before you change your mind.” Her eyes widen and she pulls me toward the parking lot with the strength of a bloodhound. The second I get into her car, I roll down the window to soak in the warm, sunny glow outside.
“This is nice.”
“You’re telling me. I was about to put out an ad for a new best friend.”
Peaking at her through one eye, I catch the flash of gloom before it leaves her face. “Can I still sit next to you in class?”
She weighs it out in her mind, tipping her head back and forth. “Depends.”
“On?”
“Whether or not you still smell like the restaurant.”
“Yeah.” These days the inside of that restaurant is as familiar as the school. “Sometimes I feel like I live there.”
From the corner of my eye I can see her shift in her seat and adjust her shoulders. “Did your mom find a job yet?”
“No,” I grimace, “but I bet she’s halfway through her second bottle of rum by now.”
“You should tell someone,” she sighs. “We could talk to my mom and—”
“It’s fine.” I scratch at a nonexistent itch on my forearm. Brenda is the last person I want to involve in my family tragedy.
“Kids aren’t supposed to take care of their parents.” She runs her hands over the steering wheel in the parking lot of the Plaza.
Unlike The Village, the Plaza is sad and grey, with washed out store fronts and cracked pavement. Becca and Alicia have probably never set foot here, though I would kill to see the looks on their faces if they did.
The shops are scattered haphazardly, most of them in serious need of repair and covered in graffiti.
“What’ll it be?” She gestures to the smorgasbord around us, comprised of the cleverly named Chinese Food, Sal’s Sandwich Shop, Italian Kuisine, and the Pizzeria. Across the street the combination bakery and ice cream shop beckons, a family-run bookstore and the coffee house on either side.
“We could go for Italian,” she suggests when I don’t answer.
My nose scrunches at the mere mention. “Think it’s worth the risk?”
“Why not? It’s been a while since my last bout of food poisoning.”
It’s not much better than cafeteria food, but at least we’ll have something to look at other than the school, even if it is just a fading mural of a poorly illustrated Italian countryside. “Bring on the stomach cramps.”
The shop smells deeply of oregano, as if it has been baked into the very walls. Tension rolls off of Gia, souring the air.
I know exactly what’s on her mind. “She just needs time to grieve.”
“It’s been twelve years. You can’t protect her forever.”
Back at school I have to suffer through a final day of basketball. Thanks to me, my team is eliminated from the tournament and forced to sit out while the last two teams play.
Bio is the same as it has been for weeks: Gia tries not to fall asleep during Mr. Parker’s lecture, Liam pretends I do not exist, and I take copious amounts of notes until my hand cramps.
“Tell me it’s almost over.” Gia drops her head on her desk in the English room, groaning into the wood. Before I can answer, Vaughn slips into the seat on my left.
“Hey, waitress,” he says with the same devilish grin he’s worn every other time I’ve seen him.
“Hey. Um, this is Gia.” I gesture to her on my right without making full eye contact with him. “Gia, this is Vaughn.”
“Nice to meet you,” Gia purrs, and I stifle a laugh.
While Ms. Yates writes out our reading schedule on the board, Vaughn leans closer. “This school must have the market cornered on beautiful women,” he whispers, nodding his head toward Gia. Her eyes light up at the compliment, but I can see suspicion blooming behind them.
“Don’t even think about it,” I warn him, narrowing my eyes.
As Ms. Yates opens class, I look up to see Liam glaring at me from across the room. His eyes are so intense that I jerk back in my seat. What the hell is his problem? He continues staring at me all through class. I am half tempted to throw something at him, but the second class ends—before I can stand—he is out of his seat and into thin air.
“What did you do to Liam?” Gia asks on our way out.
I bite my lip. Wouldn’t I like to know? “I thought I imagined that.”
“Seems like he’s rather intense, doesn’t he?” Vaughn chimes in. I hadn’t realized he was keeping up with us.
“Liam is kind of an asshole,” Gia answers. He laughs louder than the joke warranted, but I suppose he’s anxious to make friends. Maybe he’s overcompensating.
“I’m this way.” He hitches a thumb over his shoulder. “But it was lovely to see you again, waitress.”
“He sure is friendly,” Gia says under her breath as he walks away.
My lips press together. “I like him. He’s charming.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. Come on, I have to get home.” She tugs me toward the car, my eyes still following the blond head fading into the distance.
Chapter Fourteen
Liam
“Where are you going?” I mumble beneath my breath, hands in my pockets while I trail him from what must be the single most expensive house in town. Predictable bastard.
But he moves like a wraith, and by the time I reach the back he is long gone.
“Shit.” I pound my fist against the wall, wincing when the sound sends the nearest eyes my way.
Shuffled sounds in the distance draw my attention. Behind the nearest shelf sits a small alcove, the chairs well-worn but cozy nonetheless. She slumps into one, brushing ridiculously long hair out of her face.
My luck cannot possibly be this bad.
“Blair?”
She barely looks at me before her face turns sour. The whites of her eyes are red, but her cheeks are dry. “How do you do that?” She blinks her eyes too many times, determined not to cry in front of me.
“Do what?” I cock my head, a million possibilities filtering through my head.
“Appear out of nowhere.”
She doesn’t know. I know she doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean I can afford to be reckless. “Are you alright?”
“You have a special gift for showing up where you aren’t wanted.” It might sound more threatening if her voice didn’t wobble. But I can appreciate her attempt—yet another sign of her instincts kicking in.
Crouching next to the chair, I wait for her to look at me. When she doesn’t, I pull a chair close to hers and sit, keeping my expression even while I wait.
“What?” she snaps, glaring at me.
“You’re upset.”
“And?”
And I shouldn’t care. But for some reason I can’t make myself walk away. “I told you. I’m not always a jackass.”
At that, she smiles. But the smile soon fades to a grimace, and she shakes her head, breaking eye contact. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Excuse me?” Her shoulders square up and she sits up straight, daring me to challenge her again. Even with red eyes and puffy cheeks, she is undeniably beautiful. Unsurprising, given her lineage. Whoever her father was, he must have given her his eyes.
“You look like you need to talk about it,” I clarify, fighting the urge to look away while she studies me. What does she see?
“Let me rephrase.” She leans as far away as she can without moving the chair. “I don’t want to talk about it with you .”
Her life, or lack thereof, according to Bradley, is really none of my business. But Vaughn has taken special interest in her, and I know what he’s like when he is bored. “Who better to tell than someone you don’t give a shit about?”
Her nostrils flare while she mulls it over, wringing her hands in front of her in a habit that is quickly becoming familiar to me.
“Nothing you say will leave this room,” I add. “I promise.”
She doesn’t look at me when she answers, working overtime to keep her breath even and her eyes from filling again. “I’m just overwhelmed. It’s nothing.”
“By?”
“Name it,” she sighs, “school, work, my mom. It’s um…It’s a lot.” She runs her hands through her hair and takes a deep breath, closing her eyes.
I could wait for her to go on, but if I give her enough time to remember she hates me, she won’t. “And you can’t control everything.” Her mother has a drinking problem. The smell is faint, covered almost entirely by cigarette smoke.
“What’s going on with your mom?” The question is intrusive and ill timed. This time, when she glares at me, I am ready for it.
“You don’t get to talk to me about her.” She bites her lip again, her anger prompting a new round of tears to well up.
This would be so much easier if I could tell her all the things I shouldn’t know. Like the fact that her father died and her mother fell into such despair she picked up a nasty substance abuse problem. Then again, she might have guessed that I know, given the fact that Alicia talks about it incessantly and I have been left to endure her gossip for over a month now.
“She’s drinking again. Right?” I close my eyes when I ask, knowing she will think me callous. When I look at her again, I find a depthless rage that tears through her, ripping her open from the inside out.
Her fingers shake on the arms of the chair. “Alicia?”
Yes . “I can smell it. And I’ve never seen you smoke.”
Her face falls, shame taking the place of rage and deflating her rigid posture. “Great.”
I should have left when I had the chance. Everything I say to her makes it worse, my prodding stealing whatever shred of privacy she thought she had left. I should know better. I should have left her to spiral in peace.
“I don’t know how to help her.” The words explode out of her, like they’ve been choking her for months. Years, even. She drops her head in her hands, her body shaking as she gives way to despair.
I am not equipped for this. Kneeling in front of her, I pull her into my arms before I can think better of it. She gasps, pulling her head back for a moment. But soon her body leans into me, her head falling on my shoulder as her arms relax. Keeping steady pressure, I wait for her heartbeat to slow and the violent shaking to subside.
“I don’t think anyone would know what to do in your shoes.” When I pull away, her hands fall in her lap and her face goes blank.
“Don’t uh…” Her lower lip quivers, but she presses them together until it stops. “Th-this never happened, okay?”
All I can do is nod, wiping a stray tear from her cheek with my thumb. Her skin is cold, and paler than usual. If I send her home now, there is no guarantee what she will find. “Have you eaten?”
She shakes her head. “I’m not hungry.”
“That’s not what I asked.” I nod toward the door, slipping my hands in my pockets while she stares at for an unending moment. But I am more patient than she knows, and I can wait. Eventually she slumps out of the chair and follows me to the street.
“What sounds good?”
“I’m not even hungry. You pick.”
“Pizza it is.”
She is silent on the drive, and I feel the strange urge to blurt out the truth about her parentage. A lifetime of guarding secrets has left me eager to break down walls, I suppose.
She shakes her head when I open my wallet. “You’re not paying for me. And aren’t you getting anything?”
“I’m not hungry.” I can’t help but wink at her after all her insisting. Hard as it is to screw up pizza, this place has managed to do the trick.
Her eyebrows hang low over her eyes, her jaw rigid and her posture stiff as she glares at me. What now? Instead of asking, I simply raise my brow in question.
“I don’t need your community service or whatever. Believe it or not, I can afford two dollars for pizza.”
Of course. Fighting the urge to roll my eyes and make things infinitely worse, I shake my head. “Consider it my paying a debt.” God only knows the sins I have to atone for.
“Well in that case,” she folds her arms, “you’re not even close to breaking even.”
I wave her away and gesture to the table in the corner when the cashier hands us her plate. “Yeah, yeah. Eat your pizza.”
“Are you kidding me? I’m not eating if you’re not.”
“Suit yourself.” I shrug, my mind drifting back to Vaughn. How the hell did he get out of that library so fast? And what was he doing there in the first place? He has never been the reading type.
“What were you doing at the library?”
“Hmm?” When my eyes land on hers again, I find the same familiar curiosity burning behind them, mixed with a hint of accusation. “Oh. I was looking for a book. For the history paper.” Lies. Always lies with her.
