The Enemy of Time, page 5
“If you want to make amends so bad, then tell me the truth!” I stepped forward like a lawyer defending my position to a jury. “You’ve apologized, but neither you nor Jamie has ever told me what happened that night.”
Kayla chewed on her glossy lips and picked fiercely at her cuticles with every word I spat.
“Tell me, why did the two of you throw Lucas and me away like we were a fucking pair of old shoes you were tired of?” I stepped forward again, placing my face in front of hers, which was painted with a thick line of running mascara. “What was more important than us? Sex? Were you in love or just fucking bored that day!?” Unwelcome tears welled up in my eyes and slowly trickled down my cheeks. “Please!” My voice cracked. “Please just tell me why, so I can move on.” Begging for a flicker of truth, I searched her eyes.
Kayla opened her mouth as if imprisoned words had broken free, trying to escape. But then she sealed her lips and caged her voice.
“I can’t, Alex, I promised Jamie I wouldn’t,” she finally confessed.
“But why—”
The door slammed as Lucas entered the room. He glanced at Kayla and me, both with tear-filled eyes. “Sorry to interrupt.” The best thing about Lucas was that he didn't pry; he took in the situation and moved on. “Here.” He handed Kayla a large black T-shirt and neon green running shorts that were undoubtedly an old pair of Mom's.
“Thanks.” Kayla took the clothes from Lucas.
Kayla rubbed the shirt’s heavy material with her thumb as her burgundy lips rose slightly. “You always did like me in your clothes,” she teased Lucas.
Their flirtatious exchange made me cringe, and I decided it was high time to leave. I pushed past Lucas and exited the bathroom, marching to my room to change. The soft fabric of the hoodie against my skin provided comfort, a welcome retreat from the whirlwind of emotions and secrets. I stared at my closed bedroom door and contemplated my next steps. I knew the adult thing to do was to go downstairs and apologize to my parents for painting their white walls orange with spaghetti sauce. But everything in my trembling nervous system told me to unlock my bedroom window, push its wooden latch open, and escape. Then again, that was Jamie’s specialty, not mine. Climbing up wasn’t a problem, but climbing down was an adventure that typically ended with a split lip and a golfball-sized lump on my head.
I reluctantly took a deep breath and wrapped my fingers around the doorknob. Its cold metal stung my hand, acting like a red warning sign urging me to rethink my life's choices. I twisted the handle and forced my right leg through the door frame, then my left. As I stepped into the hallway, Kayla emerged from the bathroom. Then, a heavy-footed Lucas came out of the room straight ahead of me. His eyes widened drastically when he gazed upon Kayla in his clothes. The two stood frozen, facing each other like mannequins.
Walking towards the stairs, I positioned my body directly between them. “Are you two going to move or just continue this weird staring contest?”
Lucas blushed and quickly looked away from Kayla. Meanwhile, Kayla responded with a bashful grin, crossing her arms over her chest. “What? Something on my face?” she asked Lucas with a mischievous smirk playing on her lips.
Lucas shook his head. “No, it’s just … feels like déjà vu.”
Kayla stepped a little closer. “Yeah, I guess I did use to steal your clothes a lot. But technically, you gave me your shirt the first time—at that party, freshman year.”
Lucas let out a soft laugh. “God, that night was a mess.”
Kayla smiled. “And just like then, I’m still not a princess in need of saving.”
Lucas rubbed the back of his neck; his expression caught somewhere between a smile and a wince. “Wow, you're never going to let that comment go, are you? And for the record, you did need help that night.” His eyes held onto hers as if she were an angel shining just for him. But then his demeanor stiffened. He looked so tired, as if the weight of all the unspoken words between them was finally crushing him. “You never needed saving. I just thought you deserved someone who stayed.” His voice didn’t rise, but the next part cut deeper. “But you made sure I couldn’t.”
She flinched; her voice came quieter than before. “When are you going to stop punishing me?”
He let out a slow breath. Not quite a sigh, not a full pause. Just tired. “I’m not punishing you.” He met her eyes. “I’m just telling the truth.”
Kayla froze. Arms crossed. Shoulders tense. One breath, two. Then she inhaled. “So, one mistake and I’m the bad guy forever? Just because I didn’t play the part you wanted me to. You think you’re so much better because you're the hero, and I became the villain. Newsflash, Lucas: there are no heroes and villains, just misunderstood stories with unwritten endings."
Lucas's face contorted with pain and submission. “Maybe. Or maybe it was easier to be the villain than risk finding happily ever after.”
Sensing the rising tension, I broke their exchange. “Okay, enough, both of you. We’ve got bigger problems right now.” I moved between them. “Can we please get through this night without any more drama?”
Kayla rolled her eyes at me. “Oh, please, you’re the queen of drama.”
“I beg both of you: no more fairytale references; this night is getting way too Once Upon a Time for my liking.”
I ignored both of their rebuttals and moved my bare feet quickly onto the cold stairs, the scent of our failed dinner lingering in the air as I descended. On the ninth step, I froze, my gaze fixated on the scene unfolding before me. My parents stood side by side, facing the front door. My mother slipped her jacket on, and Julian fumbled with his keys.
Perplexed, I blurted out, “And where do you two think you’re going?”
That was mistake #1: never address your parents like a parent.
My mother’s clenched face turned to me, her expression a mix of annoyance and an eerie calm. “Alex.” She shifted her weight to her back foot as her hands flew to the sides of her hips. “You had a food fight in my dining room and shielded your face with my grandmother’s china!”
I huffed at my dramatic mother and wrapped my hand tightly around the banister.
That was mistake #2: never let your parents see your disobedience.
The octaves in my mother’s voice rose. “This fight between you three has gone on way too long, and I, for one, cannot handle seeing you kids act so childishly any longer.” She wrapped a scarf around her neck. “Your father and I are going out to eat, and then we are going to stay at the Chesher Cat Inn for the night.”
A wave of disbelief swept through me as the word sank in. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My gaze reflexively darted back to Lucas and Kayla, capturing the shared astonishment in their exchange glances, mirroring my shock.
My mother continued, “When we come home tomorrow, I expect to see that dining room and kitchen spotless!”
Julian's mediating voice cut through the argument like a poorly timed sitcom interruption. “We ordered you kids pizza. Maybe this time, try eating it instead of throwing it.”
From behind me, Lucas's voice piped up. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Julian raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed. “If you’re all going to act like children, then I’m going to treat you like children. It’s high time you had a time-out to sort out your problems. And no one—and I mean no one—can stay mad while eating pizza. It’s a grease-filled, cheesy peace treaty.” He paused, then shrugged, “Besides, I didn’t pay for it. Make sure to leave a good tip.”
Without another word, Mom and Julian headed out the open front door like they hadn’t dropped a verbal grenade into the middle of the group.
I stared after them, then swung my head toward Lucas and Kayla, blinking in disbelief. “Did we get … grounded?”
Kayla shrugged. “I mean, technically, we’re unsupervised with pizza, so … I call it a win.”
"I call it trapped."
Chapter seven
Life starts when you're not looking
And ends when you stop looking
August 10, 2013:
Lucas and Kayla always fought, but not the kind of fighting that ended in screaming matches or tears. To the outside world, it looked more like the beginning of a rom-com—or, honestly, the intro to a poorly written porno. It was flirty, playful, and always led by Kayla. But that’s just how she was with everyone. Kayla could walk into any room and grab the attention of every man, woman, and probably even a few inanimate objects. That was Kayla, and she loved it that way.
Looking back, I should’ve noticed that there was something deeper to her actions: her need for attention and perfection. However, when I was fourteen, the whole world revolved around me and my emotions, like all teenagers. I forgot to stop and realize that everyone around me was the main character of their own story, with their own plots, their own heroes, and their own villains. Maybe I was the savior in someone’s story, or maybe I was the evil queen. The truth is, I was probably both, just like Kayla was both a hero and a villain in mine.
Kayla was one of us—the fourth Musketeer in our odd little group of misfits. But she didn’t like talking about her past or childhood, and none of us pried. Jamie and I had the Cliff Notes, but we never delved deeper into her chapters. Lucas, though, was different. He committed every detail about her to memory, as if each aspect were a riddle he had been quietly solving his entire life. He knew the exact cadence of her laugh, how her voice softened when she was sad, and the way she always tucked her hair behind her ear when she was nervous. He could anticipate her mood before she even said a word.
The truth was, Lucas understood Kayla in a silent, unshakable way that only someone who completely loved another could. When Kayla acted out, Lucas was the only one who truly understood why. He didn’t shy away from her temper or her sharp words; instead, he handled her in a way that seemed effortless. Lucas understood Kayla like no one else could. He always had.
On August 10, 2013, while Jamie and I were caught up in our own storylines, Lucas had been the only one looking out for Kayla’s happy ending.
It was the last weekend before our first day of school. The entire month before freshman year felt like an unhinged teen TV series in its final season—constant drama crashing into our lives left and right. The latest blowout had been Jamie’s and my carnival fiasco, and after all that, I just wanted to stay home, curled up in a blanket, eating a pan of undercooked brownies, and watching Gossip Girl. But Kayla decided we all needed to hit the reset button, and she was determined not to let us start high school in the middle of a fight.
Instead, she thought it was a great idea to cozy up to one of the senior football jocks and get us an invitation to the first party of the year. As soon as we stepped inside the house, the music hit us like a wall, and the deep bass vibrated through my chest as if it had been trying to dislodge my heart. Kayla was in full-on Kayla mode, practically dragging us into chaos like this party was some life-altering experience. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t. But try telling that to Kayla. Once she set her mind on something, it was more solid than the concrete holding the Pentagon together.
“This is going to be the best night of our lives! The start of our high school social status! We have to do this right!” She snatched two tiny plastic cups off a round platter at the front of the door and jettisoned one at me. It was a weird, green substance, half liquid and half underdeveloped Jell-O.
“I agreed to come to the party; I did not agree to get plastered.” I shot back at her.
“No! No Debbie Downer tonight! We are all going to have fun.” She jabbed a pointy finger into Lucas’s chest. “That includes you, too, Mr.” She handed him her green goop.
I glanced at Jamie, who had been doing an awe-inspiring job of pretending I hadn’t existed since the carnival mess. Lucky me. If I had a dollar for every time he eyed me with that stupid mix of guilt and hurt, I could afford a trip to the Bahamas.
I refocused my attention on Kayla. “Tonight is the worst idea you’ve ever had,” I stated more to myself than to her. “But what the hell, we’re about to be high schoolers. Time to act like it, I guess.” I raised my green cup to my brother and we toasted, then quickly downed the contents. The strange texture slithered down my throat like sour mucus.
Kayla jumped up and down like a kangaroo on coke. “Yes! Now that’s what I’m talking about!”
She dashed into the crowd, dragging Lucas along. He wasn’t resisting much, though, probably because he had no energy left after the breakup. It had only been two days since he and his girlfriend split, and he’d been in a mood ever since. I, however, could not be more thrilled that his summer romance was over. Ding dong, the witch is gone.
Jamie trailed behind me, silent but radiating discomfort. The night had “disaster” written all over it, but we were already in too deep. We followed Kayla into the lion’s den. What else could we do? Be sensible? That ship sailed the moment we agreed to come.
The house was packed, mostly with seniors who wouldn’t look at us twice if it weren’t for Kayla. I scanned the room, my eyes landing on the scattered red solo cups, a stained couch sinking under the weight of too many people, and a flickering lightbulb overhead. The mingled scents of sweat and cheap beer hit me a second later, making me briefly wonder if we could make a quick escape. However, Kayla had other plans. She was already in full force, working the room with her effortless charm. Lucas watched her from a distance. His expression was tight, and tension pulsed from him like radiation.
“Lucas, you sure you want to be here?” I asked.
He barely spared me a glance, his eyes never leaving Kayla. “Do I have a choice?”
His stare narrowed as Kayla started chatting with the guy who had invited us. He leaned against the wall, all cool and cocky, eyes fixed on her like she was his prize for the night.
Jamie hung back, quiet as ever. This wasn’t his scene, and it wasn’t mine. But here we were.
As Kayla laughed at something the guy said, my gaze drifted to his friends standing just a few feet away. I hadn’t noticed the one guy initially, but how his eyes lingered on me made my stomach tense. His hair, slicked back with too much gel, caught the light as he pushed a hand through it, his smile stretching a little too wide when he realized I had noticed him.
He took a step closer, and the overpowering scent of his cologne reached me before he did. “So.” He leaned in as if we were already in the middle of a conversation. “What’s a nice girl like you doing at a party like this?”
Is he flirting?
I let out a surprised chuckle, partly out of embarrassment but mostly out of shock. “I um … wow, is that your best pick-up line?”
“Did it work?” He flashed his white teeth at me.
A strange shiver rippled through my chest. “Maybe. Or maybe that weird green goo is going to my head.”
“Hey, I made that green goo. I’m very proud of my artistry.”
“Oh yeah, you’re a real Picasso.”
The guy chuckled. “I’m Nicholas. What’s your name, Miss Drink Critic?”
I bit my lower lip, contemplating whether or not to give this older boy my real name. “… Alex.”
He took my hand in his. “Well, Alex, would you like to dance?”
I was going to say no. I had no intention of being a piece of freshman meat to a hungry senior boy. But when I felt Jamie’s presence looming behind me, I glanced back. He stood just a few feet away, staring in my direction, though pretending not to. His jaw was tight; his shoulders squared like he was bracing for something. Before I could answer, Jamie’s fingers twitched at his sides, his eyes hard as they flicked between the guy and me.
“I don’t think so,” Jamie’s voice cut through the air like a blade.
I turned to him, my eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”
“Seems like I need to keep you from making poor choices tonight.”
Heat rose in my cheeks. “What? Like letting you talk to me?”
Jamie’s lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “No, like entertaining this guy,” he shot back, “Or maybe you’re just turned on by swapping spit with random strangers. Wouldn’t be the first time this month.”
I blinked, caught off guard by how much that stung. I turned back to Nicholas. “So, uh ... that dance?” I said, letting my smile linger a little too long, feeling Jamie’s eyes burning into my back.
“I thought you would never ask,” Nicholas said, taking a step closer and offering me his hand. But before anything else could happen, Kayla emerged suddenly, seizing my arm with uncontainable excitement.
“Oh my god, yes! Let’s dance!” Kayla’s voice cut through the pounding bass as she tugged me—and Nicholas—into the center of the room.
The crowd surrounded us, the heat rising as bodies pressed against each other. The floor drummed beneath my feet, each pulse of the bass vibrating through my legs. Kayla was already in motion, spinning wildly, her hair whipping around as she threw her arms into the air. Nicholas slid beside me, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he easily matched my movements. I laughed, breathless, as Nicholas playfully twirled me again and again, the world around us blurring into lights and motion.
Now dancing with the senior boy, Kayla swirled through the crowd, her laughter bright and sharp. She reached for another drink, tossing it back as she stumbled, her hand brushing my shoulder before she caught herself with a breathless giggle. She grabbed another shot off a passing tray, downing it in one fluid motion, then snatched one more and shoved it into my hand. “Your turn!” she yelled over the music, her eyes gleaming with mischief. Without thinking, I tilted my head back, letting the liquid burn its way down my throat.
Nicholas pulled me closer, his grin widening as the song picked up speed. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so free. There was no awkward tension with Jamie, no worrying about Lucas brooding in the corner: just Kayla, me, this random hot-as-hell boy, and terrible music. I let out a loud laugh as Kayla grabbed another drink, her hand trembling slightly as she lifted it to her lips.
