Breakable Read online

“Stacy, please… I want to say sorry.”

  I took a beat, but couldn’t really think of a way to say no. So I swung the door wide as an answer, and stepped back into the hallway. Dex shuffled inside, a strange look on his face.

  “I was just about to make some coffee. Did you want some?” I said as we passed the kitchen.

  He made a weird noise. “Don’t talk to me about putting anything into my stomach this morning,” he groaned.

  I shrugged. “Okay.” I wasn’t about to admit my own stomach still churned. I glanced over my shoulder when we reached the living room. His eyes were fixed on me and his face looked tight. Indicating a chair for him, I dropped into the nearby couch, pulled my knees up and hugged them.

  Dex settled into the big chair my dad used to sit in. He leaned forward, elbows on knees. His eyes stayed on his own hands while he talked.

  “I thought you might not want to talk after last night.”

  I shrugged, unable to meet his eye. “I thought you wouldn’t want to talk to me. Sorry I slapped you.”

  Dex grimaced and rubbed a hand at the back of his neck. “Don’t worry about it. You aren’t that strong.”

  There was a loose thread at the bottom of my jeans. I tugged at it, pulling the seam too tight, then focused on smoothing the thread out, so I’d have something to do.

  Dex sighed. “About last night… I drank too much and acted like a moron.”

  “We’ve all been there.” I said quietly.

  “Yeah, for real, right?” He grinned and sat back like everything was better. “I’m glad you feel that way, ‘cause I didn’t want it to end like that, you know?”

  “Yeah.” But I wasn’t feeling quite as forgiving as I apparently sounded. Was I? And what did he mean by “end it like that”? End what? What were “we” even?

  My heart beat too loud. I felt scared, which was stupid. Dex wasn’t going to hurt me. I kept picking at the seam, but watching Dex, trying to figure out why he was here. A little voice reminded me what Mark had said about Dex and girls and talking. But I pushed it away.

  “Look, I have to get to school, so maybe we could talk later?”

  “School? It’s Saturday.” He looked genuinely confused.

  “I have to go to the art room. I’m…I’m entering a competition and I have so much work to get done before the deadline…”

  Dex’s face went blank for a second, then he smiled. “Oh, right, your art thing. Do you want a ride? I don’t mind hanging out while you get ready. I’m going past there anyway. I can drop you off.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him I was already ready. And that I didn’t want to get in a car with him anyway. But it was getting so close to nine. And obviously Mark wasn’t coming. Part of me wanted Mark to see me pulling up to the school in Dex’s car, let him see that Dex stuck with me even when things got messed up.

  “Sure. That’d be great. Thanks.” I smiled and Dex smiled back. “I’m almost ready… I just need to grab my stuff.”

  I got to my feet and Dex did too. I thought he might turn on the television or something, but when I started for the door to the hallway he grabbed my arm and stopped me. “Wait.”

  I turned, surprised.

  His expression was serious. He’d leaned down to stare me in the eye. “Look, I really am sorry. Last night was gross. I don’t want you to, you know, think I’m a loser. I won’t do that again. I was just nervous.”

  His hand still gripped my arm. I nodded and part of me melted. I understood that feeling.

  “It’s okay. It was my first party with those guys. I was nervous too.”

  Dex smiled, his eyes dropping to his feet, then tripping back up to mine. “You don’t understand. I wasn’t nervous about being around them. I was nervous about being there with you.”

  I’m uncertain what expression I managed in the face of that. It took me so off-guard. Then without another word Dex leaned in, cupped my face, and kissed me – a soft, gentle kiss like the ones we used to have. The ones that made my knees shake and my heart pound for all the right reasons.

  Too bad underneath the mint of his toothpaste I could still taste the alcohol on his breath.

  But once I got past that, I was able to remember why I’d enjoyed kissing him in the past. Dex had a way of holding on, like he was keeping me away from the rest of the world. His lips touched softly, his tongue barely tracing mine. Like he had all the time in the world and he wanted to savor it.

  When I kissed him back his hands trailed down my arms to my waist and pulled me in tight so I was curled against him. I wrapped my arms around his neck. If a little part of me wished he was Mark, I could ignore that.

  I still felt all wound up after the party, but a tiny spot of warm, delicious hope opened up on top of the fear.

  Dex had made a mistake. He’d recognized it and wanted to date.

  I think…

  I kept kissing him until one of his thumbs worked under the hem of my top and I felt his skin on mine. His hand was warm and smooth, but as it flattened against my side and slid up, I pulled away.

  Things were still too raw. It all felt a little wrong. A little fast.

  I stepped back, smiling and running a hand over my hair. “I have to get going. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  His eyes were tight, but he nodded so I fled.

  Suddenly I had too much energy. I walked too fast down the hall, my stomach reminding me that it wasn’t happy about last night’s treatment.

  In my room I grabbed my bag, checked my wallet and keys were in it and headed for the door. For a second I considered calling Older Me. If she was able to come back, I could tell her things weren’t as bad as I’d thought. But then I remembered, she should have been telling me that. I shook my head and left.

  Dex turned from the window as I opened the door into the living room and gave me a weird look.

  “Did you already have a ride?”

  “No, why?”

  He tipped his head towards the window over the driveway. When I reached it and looked out I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  Mark strode up the driveway, frowning at Dex’s car. He looked up, saw us at the window and waved. But he didn’t smile.

  “I thought you guys were just friends?” Dex muttered.

  Unfortunately. “We are.” I headed for the door. “We’ve been friends since we were seven. He’s like my brother.”

  Dex scoffed, but didn’t say anything else. I pulled the door open as Mark trotted up the stairs.

  “Hey.”

  “Hi.” Mark didn’t stop, but his face was a hard mask. When he got in the door, he looked around until he found Dex.

  My nerves had teeth.

  “You’re up early, Dex,” Mark said over my head. “I thought you’d still be sleeping off the party.”

  From his place next to the window, Dex shrugged. “Guess I’ve got a good head for it.”

  “Dex came to tell me he was sorry about last night. I told him it was no big deal. We all make mistakes.”

  Mark’s eyebrows climbed towards his hair. “Seriously? ‘Cause it looked like a pretty big deal to me.”

  I gave Mark the eye. “I told you, it looked worse than it was.”

  “Oh, so he wasn’t drunk? He could have driven you home just fine, huh?”

  Why was he doing this?

  Dex rocked on his feet, lips curling into a sneer. “I told her I was sorry. I’d already sorted out another ride for her before you showed up and got pushy.”

  “Yeah, well, sorry,” Mark said, “but when a girl comes running out of a bedroom crying it doesn’t look good, you know?”

  I swallowed hard and tugged at Mark’s sleeve. “I told you, it wasn’t as bad as it looked. Dex is sorry. I’m fine. Just leave it alone. Please?”

  Mark looked at me, eyes narrowed and eyebrows pinched together. He pulled his sleeve out of my hand. “Can I talk to you alone for a second?”

  Dex met my glance with his jaw shoved out.

  I shrugged.
“Can’t we talk at school? I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  Mark snorted. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

  “Mark, don’t–”

  But he was already pulling the door open. “Later, Dex. Try to stay sober until you get her to the art room if you can.”

  “Mark!”

  Dex just glared at Mark’s back.

  Watching Mark walk out still angry felt like a piece of my insides went with him. I considered going after him, just leaving. But I’d see Mark in a few minutes without Dex, where I could explain. And Dex might not show up again. And what if Mark was getting sick of me? I’d have no one left…

  As soon as Mark disappeared behind the door, I turned back to Dex with an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that. He’s just protective. Like a big brother.”

  “Brother?” Dex cocked an eyebrow, then turned to look out the window. Outside a car door slammed, then an engine roared, whining as it pulled away too fast.

  Why was Mark so mad? Didn’t he want me to have a boyfriend? Like he should do whatever he wanted with cheating cows like Karyn, but I should sit at home, alone, pining over him?

  No. No way.

  I crossed the space to Dex and tentatively wrapped my arms around his waist. His head turned and he looked surprised, but he smiled, so I didn’t take them back.

  “Yes, a brother. My friend. He’s nice. He’s just stressed out. Forget about him.”

  Dex looked around the room as if someone else might be there. “Is your mom home?”

  Unease twisted in my chest. I shook my head. “No, but she’ll probably show up pretty soon. She’s in and out all day on Saturdays,” I lied.

  One side of Dex’s grin slid higher. He leaned down to kiss me again – a nice kiss, but hard. Firm. His fingers dug into the back of my neck.

  When his breath started coming faster, I pulled away. “I have to get to school. If I’m late Mrs. Callaghan will lock us out.”

  “Just one more,” Dex murmured and kissed me again.

  It was a nice kiss, but my lips were slowly being tenderized by the stubble on his chin and his intensity made me nervous. It was a relief when he finally pulled away.

  “Mmmmm, I guess I can’t blame Mark for being such a jerk. If you belonged to me I’d want to keep you away from other guys too.”

  I smiled and shoved him away playfully, pretending guys said stuff like that to me all the time. But when he pulled his keys out of his pocket and headed for the door I couldn’t help frowning at his back.

  If he didn’t want me to belong to him, what was he doing there?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ten minutes later, after pasting a smile on my face that I hoped looked a lot less ill than it felt, I entered the art room. Mark needed to know how okay I was. Except the person my smile ran into was Mrs. Callaghan.

  She looked up and saw me, then startled and stepped back. “Uh, good morning, Stacy… Are you okay?”

  So much for that. I deflated. “Morning, Mrs. C. Yeah, I’m good.” I said, shuffling around her to my cubby hole.

  The room was silent. Mark sat on the other side of the tables, working, ignoring me. While I gathered my things and tried to push away nausea, Mrs. C. bustled around in the storage area. But soon she told us goodbye and wandered out the door.

  As soon as it latched behind her I turned to Mark, every muscle rigid. Even my fingers resisted movement. I wanted Mark to be mad about Dex if he was feeling protective. I just didn’t want him to be mad at me.

  He caught me looking but didn’t speak.

  “Well?” I asked.

  “Well, what?” he said sullenly.

  “What was it you wanted to talk about back at the house?”

  Mark’s jaw clenched, but his expression didn’t change. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Seemed like it mattered back there.”

  Mark rolled his eyes. “Your boyfriend ticks me off. And it ticks me off more that you’ll forgive him after what he did.”

  I wasn’t sure I had forgiven him. I just didn’t think I could risk losing what might amount to the only friend I had if Mark left. But I couldn’t tell Mark that, because he’d ask why I thought he was leaving. So I answered the only part of his statement that I could.

  “Dex isn’t my boyfriend.”

  “He’s acting like he is.”

  “No, he isn’t.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “No, he isn’t.”

  “Yes, he–”

  “Look, Mark, it doesn’t matter. We disagree. I have a lot of work to do today and I’m not in the mood for a fight. If you don’t have something specific to say, I’ll get busy.”

  Mark folded his arms and his expression got harder. “I want you to be careful. Dex talks. He’s already mouthing off to any guy that will listen. Anything you do with him will get around, if you know what I mean.”

  I sighed. “You already mentioned that.” And, perversely, the idea of Dex bragging to another guy about me made me warm up inside. Though it was quickly chilled by the idea of giving Finn any more fodder. “Is there anything else?”

  Mark shook his head. As if we hadn’t even spoken, he picked up his sketchbook and started working. His hand flipped across the paper like a bird searching for food. Hop, hop, stand. Hop, hop, stand. I could have sat there for the entire day, watching him – the way his shoulders twitched every time his hand moved. The tiny frown pushing a ‘v’ between his eyebrows. The way his long-sleeved shirt pulled tight over his bicep when he leaned on an elbow.

  Looking at him made me ache.

  Tearing my eyes away, I pulled out a new sheet of paper and started making aimless lines, wishing I had an ounce of motivation to get something worthwhile done. It was less than two months to deadline for our portfolios. I still had five pieces to finish. And one was the self-portrait. The only thing in front of me that I found inspiring was Mark.

  I bit my lip.

  “Are you sketching all morning?”

  Mark shrugged. “I guess. I mean, I’m planning my last two paintings.”

  “Can I draw you? I have to do realism and you know people are my thing. If I don’t get something done today, I’m screwed. I won’t–”

  “It’s fine, Stace.” He sighed. He never looked away from his work. “Knock yourself out.”

  I wished I could tell if his tone was resigned or amused.

  Suddenly excited by the prospect of staring at Mark for hours on end, I switched out my sketch paper for the real stuff.

  I turned my seat side-on, put a couple pencils and an eraser on the table and indulged myself in Mark.

  Forty minutes later, I wished I could do my entire portfolio on him. I would have had the whole thing done in a week.

  I’d already done small, working sketches of the point where Mark’s shoulder met his neck, the hard curve of his jaw, the tendons on the back of his hand. I wasn’t even putting the pieces together, just giving each its own little window of focus. My large page filled up rapidly.

  Eventually, when the fog of tension lifted, I risked talking.

  “So… Karyn’s around this weekend. I’m guessing you’ll be busy?” Why had I asked him that? I searched for another topic that wouldn’t force me to think about Cowface.

  Mark sighed. “Yeah. Maybe. Why, did you want to do something?”

  The fact he even asked made me smile. Usually, when a relationship was new, we rarely saw each other on Fridays or Saturdays. I always knew when a girl got too serious, or too clingy, because suddenly Mark needed me as an excuse to get away from them. That didn’t usually happen for at least a couple of months. But he’d been seeing Karyn for less than one.

  I looked at him, trying to gauge what he felt, but found him staring at me. Though he looked away quickly, his expression confirmed my instinct.

  “Trouble with the Missus?” I teased. I had to keep this light hearted. Inside I was crawling with jealousy and desperate to get away from the mental images of Mark in bed with Kar
yn.

  Mark shrugged and kept working. “No.”

  Liar.

  Had Finn been right? Were they doing that? To distract myself I returned to my sketch, focusing on how his hair curved over his temple, then frowning over shading all those twisty pieces of ear so they’d fade into the background instead of standing out like some kind of mutilated trombone.

  Mark sighed again and I paused. “What?”

  “I don’t know. Girls are just… weird.”

  I rolled my eyes. Here we go again.

  I should have been happy. If Karyn was on his nerves already, that was a good sign. But I’d been sure there was something different about their relationship. The way he’d hidden her from me. The way he kept following her around instead of hanging out with his guy friends. The way he was maybe sleeping with her – something he’d only done twice before as far as I knew.

  He seemed serious about her.

  Faking a grin, I kept my eyes on my sketch. “Cat got your tongue… or is the problem that she hasn’t?”

  “Forget it.” Mark sounded annoyed.

  “Don’t get mad. Talk to me.”

  “I said forget it.”

  Unwilling to push him, I kept my eyes on my work, but inwardly speculated on what might be wrong. Did he know about Finn? No…

  A few minutes later Mark sighed again.

  I said, “What’s going on? Maybe I can help?”

  He shrugged. “I doubt it. You’re a girl. Girls are complicated. You can’t ever just do stuff. It always has to mean something. And if we don’t figure out what it means, you get mad.”

  I snorted. “And guys are so easy to figure out with all their “needs” crap, and fear of commitment?” I didn’t look up from my sketch, but Mark froze.

  “Is that what Dex told you? He has needs?”

  My pencil clattered to the floor. I huffed and muttered “None of your business,” and used digging around to retrieve it as an excuse to avoid looking at him.

  “Well?”

  “Well, what? We were talking about you and your girlfriend and your commitment phobia.”

  Mark cleared his throat. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

  The reference took me so off guard my jaw dropped. Then I snorted and Mark chuckled. At the sight of his open, beaming smile, my giggles turned near hysterical. That got him going. In the end, we both laughed so hard we cried.