“What made you even want to learn?”
“I was fine with just riding on the back. It was fun, felt romantic, you know? But after a couple times of us going somewhere and B needing to take me back home before he was ready to leave, he decided I should learn how to ride it. That way I could take myself home if I needed to.”
And once I learned how, he knew he could get high or drink and I could drive us both home. Although at the time that sorta pissed me off, I’m now really grateful I know how.
After we’ve taken off and gotten to cruising altitude, Cooper says, “So what do you think we accomplished? Seems like all it did was piss him off.”
“We made him think I’m back home.” I smile. “And remember, a pissed off, out-of-control, mistake-making Vincent is exactly what we want.”
“I was there the whole time. In the shadows. Waiting for the right moment.”
“I didn't see you.”
“You didn't look scared.”
“I had protection. Speaking of which, what did you do with it?”
“It’s in the bag.”
The flight attendant interrupts Cooper to ask us if we would like dinner or a snack.
“Dinner,” Cooper says.
“I’ll just have some water,” I reply. I might not be shaking as bad on the outside anymore, but my insides are still a wreck.
“My sister needs to eat,” Cooper tells the attendant. “Bring her a dinner along with her water.”
She quickly comes back with plates of grilled chicken in a mushroom sauce on a bed of risotto.
I eat a little and then lean my head against Cooper's shoulder.
FRIDAY, DECEMBER 2ND
Confidence and swagger.
7am
“You awake enough to drive back to school?” Cooper asks me, putting our bags in the car.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
He sits in the passenger seat until I get about a half mile from school, then he hops in the back and hides.
I go through the school gates, pull into my parking spot, hop out of my car, leaving it unlocked, and then walk to the dorm and straight into my shower.
I’m forty-five minutes late for our 7 am Social Committee meeting.
“Sorry I'm late,” I say, my entrance interrupting Logan.
“That’s okay. We're just finishing up,” he says.
“You’re our last report. Is the French Club ready for tomorrow night? Will the baskets all be ready?”
“Yeah, The Market was happy to do them. They even gave us a nice discount, so the club will earn money for the state competition this spring.”
“Perfect,” he says. “That completes our list.”
Peyton does a little clap. “This is going to be so fun.”
Logan holds up his notebook and says to the group, “So, here's to a great event and an entire weekend where we can’t get in trouble for French kissing!”
“Hear, hear!” everyone exclaims.
I'm thinking about French kissing Aiden when Whitney says, “Peyton, Keatyn, a word. Alone,” she adds, looking straight at Aiden, who is walking toward us.
“We’re gonna discuss our periods,” Peyton says, teasing her brother.
He winces and says to me, “I'll meet you outside.”
Whitney says, “I overheard Chelsea trash-talking you to one of the only friends she has left, and saying that she’s going to get even. I think you should start sitting at our table again. It will make her think twice.” She holds a single finger in the air as I start to speak. “And before you say anything, Aiden's welcome. Riley, whoever you'd like. The more the merrier. Right, Peyton?”
“Right.”
Peyton folds her hands in prayer, begging me behind Whitney’s back.
“That's really nice of you,” I say to Whitney.
She grins, wraps her arm around me, and says, “Shark’s gonna sit with us today too. Try not to have a heart attack.”
“I think you and Shark together is awesome. He was totally flirting with you at Homecoming.”
“He's been flirting with me for two years and I wouldn't give him the time of day. But then he told me the odds of us getting together were a hundred to one, but that he'd take them any day. It was romantic, in an unusual way. He keeps getting cuter and he just has . . .”
“Swagger,” I say.
“Yeah. Confidence and swagger. You can tell he's going to be successful in life. He’s already working on building what will be the hot new social media website. He’ll be an internet mogul by the time he’s twenty-five.”
“I think all that matters today is what are the odds he's a good French kisser?”
“They’ve been doing plenty of that,” Peyton says in a sing-song voice.
“I have a plan,” Whitney says. “I need a pedicure and we have,” she makes air quotes, “some French errands to run. Let's go get pedicures together. Have a girls’ morning.”
“Sounds great!” I say, mostly because I didn't get my history homework done. “I’m gonna talk to Aiden. Why don't you ask Miss Praline for a note?”
“Already got the note,” Whitney replies, waving it in her hand. “We'll go turn it in. Meet us at my car in ten minutes.”
I find Aiden in the hall. “How's your uncle?” he asks.
“He's good.”
“You look tired.”
“We stayed up late talking about my mom.”
“What did he say about her? Is she doing better?”
“Well, they just got to France, so it's hard to tell yet.”
“What else did he tell you?”
“Uh, well, apparently the Vancouver project was really stressful. A lot of negotiations and stuff. And she was working long hours and spending too much time away from my sisters. So that upset her. And I guess Vancouver sort of, like, consumed her. But the good news is that she's taking a whole month off. At least from traveling. Although, I’m sure she'll work some from home.”
Shit. Why did I say that? Next he’s going to ask . . .
“What’s her next project?” Aiden asks, responding exactly the way I was praying he wouldn’t.
Shit.
Uh . . .
Improvise, Keatyn. Make something up!
“Uh, well, part of the reason she agreed to France is because her next job is, uh, it’s in the Ukraine.”
Where the hell did that come from?
Is the Ukraine close to France?
Do they even have oil in the Ukraine?
“So, that's good, right?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“I’m glad you got to see him while he was in town.”
I think of the look on Vincent's face when he saw me at the club. “I’m really glad I got to see him too.”
He pulls me in for a sweet kiss. “So, what are you girls planning?”
“Officially, we’re going off campus to check on some last minute details for the weekend, but, really, we’re getting pedicures. Which is good. My polish is a mess after being in the sand. You wanna come too?”
“Ah, no. I’m busy with the Hawthorne house project.”
“What are you doing?”
He flicks his tongue across my neck. “I can't tell. You said you’re making your dorm like like store windows. What’s going to be in yours?”
“We’re only doing it on the front facing rooms, but I helped Maggie plan hers. It will be a springtime in Paris theme. A pretty pale blue dress with a tutu skirt, pastel flowers, and a big art frame to make it look like you walked into a Degas’ picture.”
“Very creative.”
“Are you really not going to tell me what you're doing?”
“You'll see it later. Depending on how it goes. Right now, it's walking a fine line between cool and ridiculous.”