Falling for the Ghost of You (2 page)

As I’m speeding toward Taco Bill’s, I feel excited butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.  I missed Matt!  I didn’t realize I did until just now.  Isn’t that wei
rd?  Okay, I sort of missed him.
I think.  But to be honest, I didn’t really think about him, uh, at all when I was in Hawaii.

Matt and I have been together just over a year, but we’ve known each other since middle school, having shared several AP classes together.  I’ve always thought he was funny, cute, and smart, but we really bonded when we were partnered together for a history assignment on the Hundred Years War.  He impulsively kissed
me during a study session, and it
would have been a nice surprise had my mouth not been full of pizza at the time.

So the first kiss was kinda gross, but we improved after that.  Kind of.  The truth is…I don’t like kissing!  It’s so messy, and awkward, and…I don’t know!  Smothering.  I don’t know if that’s the right word.  I just don’t like kissing, okay?  Ugh!  Sorry, Matt.  Not that I’d ever admit it to him.

Kissing aversions aside, I can’t wait to see my boyfriend.  As I park in front of the sombrero shaped Mexican restaurant, I suddenly feel self conscious and weirdly shy.  What will he think of my hair?  Will he notice the five pounds I’ve gained?  I feel
tired and jaded,
like I’ve just come back from a war.

The parking lot is crowded at Taco Bill’s, which I expected since it’s lunchtime and just a few days before school starts up again.  When I’m getting out of the car, I notice a bunch of tween girls standing in front of the restaurant, gawking at a sleek foreign-looking sports car.  No, they’re staring at the guy leaning against it.

Okay, wow.  He just turned around, and I can’t help the little gasp that escapes me.  Um.  Wow.  This guy is incredibly gorgeous!  No wonder those poor girls seem awestruck. 

Tall and muscular, with a lean build and impressive broad shoulders,  Mr. Gorgeous exudes sex and danger—even from where I’m standing.  He’s turned sideways, so I can only see his profile, but what I can see is sculpted perfection.  Short dark hair, carelessly tousled, an intense brow, the elegant sharp planes of his bone structure…wow, lips so clearly defined and sensual that I get embarrassed just looking at them.

Mr. Gorgeous turns away again, breaking my lust-filled trance, and the world abruptly tips back into perspective.  Still, I can’t look away—out of curiosity.  Who is he?  He looks a bit older than high school, and he’s wearing a long-sleeved dress shirt, almost in defiance of the heat.  A businessman?  He’s talking on his phone and seems oblivious of the attention he’s getting, his sunglasses covered eyes focused on the passing cars zooming by in the street. 

I shake my head slightly.  It’s not like me to ogle guys that are just standing there, minding their own business.  Not that I’ve ever seen a guy this hot, like, ever.  So I excuse myself, because someone who looks like that…how can you not stare?  And drool.  At least I’m not surreptitiously taking
pics
of him with my phone like the junior misses are doing over there.

I put Hot Guy out of my head as I open the door to Taco Bill’s. 
Ahh
, the salsa and cooking ground beef hits me like a savory slap to the face.  I look around the brightly colored restaurant and note that it is indeed crowded.  Damn, looks like all the booths are taken.  I wonder if Matt is here yet?

I exchange quick hellos with a few people from school while I look for my boyfriend.  Some of the guys give me overly enthusiastic greetings, and I attribute this to the pink shirt.  I shouldn’t have worn it.  I hate when people look at me, and I know they’re looking at me because I see them out of the corner of my eye.  I never know what to do with my hands when I’m the center of attention.  I end up clasping them nervously in front of me.  I know not to fold my arms over my chest because that just brings more interest to where I don’t want it.

“Violet!”

I hear Matt’s voice calling me.  Relieved, I head toward the back of Taco Bill’s, toward his voice.  There he is, and yes, he has a booth!

“Hi,” I say gratefully, sliding into the bench opposite of him. 

Wait, should I have hugged him?  I half stand uncertainly, but Matt makes no move towards me, so I just sit back down again.

He looks good, cuter than I remember.  Maybe absence does make the heart grow fonder?  Oh, look at that.  He’s wearing his holey pirate shirt and faded cargo shorts.  I guess some of us didn’t feel the need to dress up for our reunion.

Matt is no Mr. Gorgeous, but he’s cute in his own normal boy way, with his wavy auburn hair, sparkling blue eyes, and laidback grin.  Matt is one of those guys that everyone likes because he’s so easygoing and funny, always ready with a joke and a smile.

He’s not smiling now.  “Wow, Violet, you look really great,” he says, staring at my boobs.

Huh.  I bet he won’t notice my hair color change.  “Thanks,” I say.  I put his gift box on the table and reach for a menu.  I always read the menu, though I don’t know why.  I order the same enchilada dish I do every time I come here.  “Did you order yet?”

“Nah, I’m just going to have a Coke.”  He gestures to the half empty drink in front of him.  “Is that a present for me?  Looks too small to be a hula girl,” he jokes.

“I thought about getting you one of those things for your dashboard, but I thought it might distract too much from driving.” 

Something’s not quite right here.  There’s a funny tension to Matt, and when he’s not looking at my chest, he’s looking out the window, or scanning the restaurant as if searching for someone. 

“How was your summer?”  I ask carefully.

He shrugs slightly and plays with the straw in his Coke, stirring it around a little before taking a drink.  “Same old thing.  I was stuck here, and nothing much was going on.  But what about you?  You’re the one that was in freaking
Hawaii
.  How was it?  I mean, you weren’t stuck working in
your grandma’s bakery all summer, were you?”

It’s my turn to shrug.  “We went to the beach, did some hiking.  It was fun, but we were mostly busy working.  So nothing too exciting.”

“Huh.”  He makes a funny chuckling sound and runs a hand through his wavy hair.  “You didn’t get together with some hot surfer dude, did you?”

I stare at him.  He has a funny pained smirk on his face.  A huge pit of dread opens up in my stomach.  Oh, my God.  He hooked up with some college
skank
.  Look at his face.  The guilty sign is flashing in neon on his forehead.

“What’s going on, Matt?” I say, and I’m fighting hard to make my voice stay casual and composed.

Matt fidgets in his seat and flicks a quick glance at my face.  “What do you mean?”

I don’t say anything for a moment.  I have to work up the courage to ask this next question, because once it’s out there, it will change everything, I just know it.

“Did you hook up with someone?”

Long silence.  In that moment, my heart falls off a cliff because I know it’s true.  I don’t even need to look into his guilty bastard eyes for confirmation.  I can’t breathe.  I’m in shock.  I can’t believe this is happening.  How could I not be prepared for something like this?  When the mice are away, the cats will play, right?  Did I get that backwards?  Oh, who cares.

“It’s not what you think.”  Matt suddenly rushes to fill the silence.  “It’s…let me explain…”

He reaches out to grab my hand, but I yank it away with a violence that startles
the
both of us.  I’m shaking.  I stare blindly out the window, willing myself not to break down and cry.  Or punch him in the junk.  I also want to stab that straw through his forehead.  Maybe later.

“How did it happen?” I finally look at his cheating flushed face.  “Who is she?”

“I…”

Matt trails off as his gaze moves past me to something behind me.

I turn to see what he’s looking at.  Rachel Ward, one of our friends, is slowly approaching our booth.  She probably wants to just say hi and ask how my summer was.  I like her well enough, but I want to scream at her to get the hell away.

“Hi, V,” Rachel says in a small voice.  But her big hazel eyes are trained on Matt.

Oh.  Duh.

I whip my head back and pin Matt with my evil glazed eyes.  “
What
!  Really?!  You and Rachel?!”

To my complete and utter astonishment, that lying ass slides over and beckons for Rachel to sit
down next to him. 

Are you kidding me?!

They are hold
ing hands right now.  Seriously, what the hell is this?
  Are they dating?  I want to hurt them both.

“I’m so sorry, Violet,” Matt says, staring down at their entwined fingers.  “It just…happened.  We were working together at Smilin’ Jack’s, and…I don’t know, we always got along so good—you know that.  So we started hanging out after work and
…it just happened,” he concludes
helplessly.

“I’m really sorry,” Rachel whispers, her eyes downcast.  Her pretty face is wet with tears. 

Aw, let’s give the sweet pretty bitch a hug!

“Don’t talk to me,” I snap.  I have found my anger, and it’s the only think keeping me from breaking apart.  I focus on my former boyfriend with laser like intensity as a revelation hits me like a falling coconut to the head.  “Did you sleep with her?”

Matt’s mouth tightens, but he doesn’t say anything.  Rachel, however, is blushing bright red, so I guess that’s all the confirmation I need. 
Slut!
a voice in my head screams.

I feel like someone’s kicked me in the chest.  Matt and I…we’ve never had sex, and he’s never pressured me to do it.  And to find out that he slept with
her
…
ugh! 
I thought he was just scared he might do it wrong!  Does that mean he never really wanted to have sex with me?  Why the hell not?!

Matt begins to talk rapidly at me, but I can’t hear him.  A roaring noise, like crashing waves fills my ears.  I can’t seem to look away from the two of them sitting there together, like a couple.  Well, I guess they are now. 
Ex-boyfriend
.  The term runs through my head like a cocky sprinter.  Distantly, I wonder how everyone at school will react.  Or do they already know?  Were Matt and Rachel flaunting their new status while I was slaving away in a delicious-smelling bakery in Hawaii?

I hate them.

“…hope we can still be friends.”

Yeah, my ex-boyfriend actually says this.  I gape at him disbelievingly.

That—wow, that just pisses me off!  My hand twitches spastically with the urge to claw his eyes out.  I have to get out of here.  I stand up abruptly, but the ass clown grabs my hand—you know, with the other hand that’s not hanging onto his new girlfriend.

“Please, please don’t be mad at us, V,” he begs.  And tears are spilling down his cheeks.  “I swear, I never wanted to hurt you.  I don’t want to lose your friendship.  Please say we can still be friends.”

A deadly calm suddenly drapes over me, like a super villain’s cape.  But it’s the calm before storm that I can feel building up inside of me.  “Friends,” I repeat coldly.

“Yeah.  Like how we used to be.”  Matt forces a smile to his weasel face at the sudden awkward silence.  He glances down at the box on the table.  “Do I still get my gift?” he jokes feebly.

“Sure,” I say.  I snatch it off the table and make as though to hand it to him.  When he reaches for it, I hurl it away with the strength and speed of a major league pitcher.  It lands in some old guy’s plate of refried beans with a splat.

I take off.  I can’t hold it together anymore, and to my horror, I’m sobbing uncontrollably.  I
never
cry in public.  I hate it!  I hate
him
!

Are people looking at me?  Most certainly.  I don’t care.  I run blindly toward the door and shove it open.  And then I trip over something.

I don’t know how it happens, or what I trip over.  It’s all a blur.  I’m suddenly on my hands and knees, somehow wedged painfully in the threshold, the door trying to shut on my arm.

I can see myself laughing about this after.  I squeeze my eyes shut and hold onto the hope that if I wish for it hard enough, a wormhole will open up in front of me and suck me into that future point in time.

Who knows how long I would have stayed there, like a girl-shaped doorstop.  Moving  would make it more real.  But someone’s yanking the door open, and without any help from me, I’m being easily raised to a standing position.

“Hey.  You okay?” my rescuer says in a voice that I can only descri
be as sex on a stick.

I find myself being led outside, the door slamming shut behind us.  I kind of know what I’m going to find when I look up, but still, the up-close beauty of Hot G
uy’s face renders me speechless—even more speechless, I mean.  Is that a thing?

I
t’s Hot Guy.
  Of course it is.

His eyes.  I can’t look away from them.  Dark and intense, thickly lashed.  They burn and smolder with intensity, vitality, charisma…sex…