What If

Richelle and I don’t really talk about it, but she knows I don’t see myself like everyone else does.

I’m a package, wrapped up nice and neat by my parents.

Filled with expectations of perfection—from my hair, to my teeth, to my perfectly pressed clothes.

There is nothing real about the person I present to the world, and so I don’t see anything but a mirage when I look in the mirror.

The way I look is as fake as I feel.

No one has any idea who I am under the perfect bow tied in my hair.

Except Richelle.

“I wish I could be there to watch you silently rule the school.”

“I wish you were there too,” I sigh.

“You’re the only real friend I have.”

“Same here.” Richelle grins.

“So, we’ll have to get through high school together, even if we’re apart,” I declare.

Richelle is quiet.

She looks down at her hands.

“Don’t do that,” I tell her.

“It’ll be fine.

You have to believe that eventually you’ll come back to Renfield.

Besides, I already started our list for after graduation.”

“You did?” she asks, perking up.

“What’s the first thing on it?”

“Spending the summer backpacking through Europe.”

“Your parents will never let you,” Richelle says with a laugh.

“Actually, Harvard encourages students to spend their first year abroad, to experience the world.

They’ll think it’s a great idea, trust me.”

“Then let’s spend a whole year doing it, instead of just the summer.

We’ll travel around the world.

When else will we be able to take an entire year off?”

“True.

I’ll change it.” I take the lined yellow paper out of my purse and cross out “for the summer” and add “for a year.”

“Let me see it,” Richelle requests, holding out her hand.

I stand up and join her on her bed, handing her the paper.

Richelle reads off, “Travel around the world for a year.

Take a hot air balloon ride.

Help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.” She looks at me and smiles.

“I like that.” She pauses, then says, “Ooh.

Then let’s do this.” She takes the pen and writes, “Help kids remember they’re kids even when their lives suck.” This squeezes my heart… in a good way.

She starts reading out loud again.

“Fall in love.” Then she writes “with Cal” in parenthesis.

And adds, “Lose virginity to Cal.”

“Richelle! This is a list we’re supposed to do together!”

“I’ll put his name in parentheses here too.

You can lose your virginity and fall in love with whoever you want.”

“Yeah, that’s never going to happen.” The idea of liking a guy, forget about falling in love with one, seems impossible.

Most of the guys I know drive me crazy… except Cal.

Although I don’t talk to him anymore.

Besides, I could never do that to Richelle—she’s my best friend.

I even promised her years ago that I wouldn’t.

“Let me see.” I hold out my hand to take the list back.

“Roll down a hill? Really?”

“When was the last time you rolled down a hill?” she challenges.

“Never,” I say quietly.

“Exactly.” I write, “Relive the happiest day of your life.”

“What day is that?” Richelle asks.

I smile. “I don’t know just yet.”

Chapter Sixteen

I collapse onto the broken-in leather sofa at Bean Buzz, exhausted and defeated.

I spent the entire day driving around Crenshaw in search of Nyelle.

But I couldn’t find her.

I checked every possible place that I could think of: the hotel, the homeless shelter, Elaine’s, the hospital, the medical office, Starlight, and back here again.

I drove down random streets in hopes of finding her walking.

I called her.

I texted her.

I did everything except scream her name—although I did consider it.

She’s gone, and I have no idea what to do now.

“Bad day?” A cute girl wearing a low-cut sweater is sitting next to me with a book in her lap.

“Very,” I answer, sinking further into the couch.

My body feels like it’s about to collapse in on itself.

“I’d be happy to buy you something stronger than coffee if you want to leave here,” she offers sympathetically.

I smile politely.

“Thanks, but—” I grunt when someone pounces on me, landing on my lap.

I’m paralyzed when I find Nyelle straddling me.

Before I can react, she says, “I take it back.

I don’t want you dating anyone.” She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me in front of everyone.

I’m still trying to catch my breath when she pulls away.

“Okay?” She’s back.

The carefree girl I met in this coffee shop.

I can torture myself wondering where she’s been, or trying to figure out what happened to Nicole.

But right now, I don’t care.

Nyelle’s sitting on my lap, smiling down at me, and that’s all that matters.

“Hi.

How was your Christmas?” she asks happily.

There’s not a hint of the distress in her voice or sadness in her eyes that have been haunting me since I let her walk out.

The girl with the revealing sweater is gawking at us.

Actually, just about everyone is staring.

I should be used to being stared at in this place by now—I’m convinced I’m a legend at this point.

Someone clears her throat.

We look up.

Mel is standing next to us with her hands on her hips.

“I know you two are still going through your honeymoon phase and all, but this is a family establishment.” Nyelle smiles at her.

“That’s okay.

We were just leaving.” She stands and takes my hand.

“Uh… sorry, Mel.” Nyelle yanks me from the couch and leads me out the door.

When we’re outside in the cold, she turns around and throws her arms around my neck again.

My brain is hesitant to accept that she’s really here, standing in front of me.

And… is genuinely excited to see me.

I pull her in for a hug, burying my face in her hair.

“You have no idea how happy I am right now.”

“You thought I left, didn’t you?” She squeezes me back.

“Yeah,” I say with a heavy sigh.

“I did.

I’m sorry I didn’t go after you when you walked out.

I should have.

I just…”

“It’s okay,” she says, peering up at me.

“I’m still here.” Her eyes connect with mine.

“We don’t have to talk about it.” And so we won’t.

The last thing I want is for her to walk away again.

Instead, I respond by leaning down and kissing her warm lips.

She runs her fingers through my hair, pressing into me.

The kiss picks up pace, along with my pulse.

She murmurs, “Let’s go back to your place,” with her lips still touching mine.

I think I answer, but it might have come out as a low groan.

“Excuse me.” We turn our heads.

Mel is standing on the steps with her arms crossed, glaring at us.

“Seriously?”

“Uh… yeah.

We’re really leaving,” I utter, my face flushed.

I take Nyelle’s hand and walk to the truck.

Nyelle’s bags are already in the front seat when we get in.

I smile, knowing she stashed them here when she realized the truck was unlocked.

There’s still a part of me that believes I’m dreaming all of this.

Especially when we enter my apartment and she goes straight to my bedroom, dropping her jacket on the couch and pulling her shirt over her head.

This better not be a dream.

When I enter the bedroom, her boots are off and she’s unbuttoning her jeans.

I drop my jacket on the desk chair.

“Are you sure about this?” I ask, unable to take my eyes of the skin she’s just exposed.

She bites her lip and nods.

Lowering her jeans and peeling off her socks, she lays back on my bed.

I’m watching her eyes, waiting for any hint that she’s messing with me.

Which would be cruel, especially when I glance down the length of her—it would be very cruel.

I grab my T-shirt from behind my neck and pull it off, tossing it on the floor.

I refuse to look away, fearing that if I do, even for a second, I’ll wake up.

I’ve had this dream before.

“Wow.” She raises her eyebrows.

“I wasn’t expecting to see that under there.” I freeze.

I don’t even have my pants off yet.

Then I realize she’s talking about my chest.

And I don’t know how to respond.

What do I say? Thanks? I decide not to say anything, and lean over her on the bed as she glides her hands along my skin, rousing an eruption of goose bumps.

I kiss her softly, holding myself over her.

“Just tell me what I should do,” she murmurs into my mouth.

I’m not expecting her to be so forward.

But there’s something about the way she says it that makes me stop.

I pull back and look down at her.

“What do you mean?”

“Just… let me know how to do this.” Her blue eyes search mine with a hint of nervousness.

“Wait.” I stand back up.

“Nyelle, is this your first time?” But it can’t be.

There’s messed up, but this is beyond that.

“Well, yeah,” she answers, propped up on her elbow.

“That’s okay, right?” I nod, trying to process this.

“But…” I’m about to ask her about Kyle.

At the last second, I stop myself.

“You dated… for a long time.”

“I know,” she responds, sitting up.

“Then, how are you still a virgin?”

“I never wanted anyone to touch me,” she responds bluntly.

“But I trust you.

I’ve always trusted you.” Oh shit.

Those words again.

“I trust you.” They’re words weighted with expectation.

Damn, I really hate those words right now.

And on top of that, what I said in the frosting tree about everyone’s first time sucking is coming back to kick me in the ass.

No pressure or anything.

I pick up her clothes and hand them to her.

“What?” she asks, taking them from me.

“You don’t want to have sex with me?”

“Oh, I definitely want to have sex with you,” I assure her, pulling my shirt back on.

“But now I need to be the exception.”

“What does that mean?” she asks, holding her clothes on her lap, not moving.

“Do me a favor? Get dressed in the bathroom and wait until I come get you.

Okay?” She nods slowly, still confused.

When she stands up, I gently grasp her arms and place a soft kiss on her lips.

“I need a minute.”

“Okay,” she says quietly before walking out of the bedroom.

I shut the door behind her and close my eyes, running a hand through my hair.

Shit.

I take a quick breath and then go to my closet.

There’s a box in here somewhere filled with… Here it is.

Candles.

I spread the votives around the room and light them.

Fold back the covers of the bed.