Once Again
By
Amy Durham
Once Again
Copyright 2012 by Amy Durham
Published By Amy Durham
Smashwords Edition
Contact Information: amybdurham@gmail.com
Formatted By Ironhorse Formatting
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. This book may not be resold or given away to other people.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
DEDICATION
To Jayne Squires, who first told me I could do this and whose belief in me translated into my belief in myself.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Teresa Reasor, I can never thank you enough for your support, encouragement, and expertise. For reading and critiquing for me, I give you my deepest gratitude. To Kari Lee Townsend, thank you for your insightful editing and critiquing, for believing in this book, and for helping me make it even better. To my fellow KY Romance Writer members, thank you for the wonderful camaraderie that exists only between fellow writers. To Glenda Edwards, thanks for 25 years of abiding friendship and all the encouragement and brainstorming a girl could want. To Ray Hollenbach and the rest of the folks in my local writers group, thank you for your encouragement and for giving me a place to share this part of myself. To my parents, every opportunity I’ve ever had has been because of you. No words are sufficient, but thank you nonetheless. To my husband, Kevin, thank you for loving the creative side of me (and the rest of me!) unconditionally. Kelly, my first-born, thank you for believing in my dreams – I hope my ambitions will inspire your own. To Eli and Reece, thank you for the infinite joy you bring me. And most importantly, thank you God for imagination, creativity, and storytelling, and for putting all of the above in me.
Table Of Contents
Coming Soon - Once and For All
PROLOGUE
Okay, I had to admit that Maine in July was spectacular.
Spotless white clouds dotted a sky of perfect aqua blue. Bright green leaves hung heavy in the trees. Together with the rich landscaping of the town, nature had created a lovely and charming little place.
My parents had chosen an extraordinary location for our new home.
But, being sixteen, I didn’t say it out loud. I was still pretty unhappy about leaving Nashville. Music City, USA had been my one and only home, and the thought of starting over with only two years of high school left scared me silly.
Not that I’d been at the top of the social ladder in Nashville. Far from it. But I’d been me, and I’d known where I stood. Now, who knew what or where I’d end up?
It seemed odd to spend Independence Day house-hunting in Sky Cove, Maine, but my parents had decided July fourth would be the perfect time to visit before making the move. After touring several places, we’d settled on a red-brick house in a middle-class neighborhood. Two-floors, it was a perfect square rising up from the ground, very much like a cracker box. In addition to some storage space, the small upstairs had one bedroom and one bathroom, and my parents had agreed it could be mine.
It was a perk meant to make me happy. To ease the transition.
It sort of did. I liked the idea of having the second floor to myself.
Heading across town to the realtor’s office to settle the business of purchasing the new home, my parents took the road that ran parallel to the ocean. I lounged in the backseat, watching the gaps in the trees lining the road as they gave me glimpses of the shore just beyond. The blue of the water surprised me when I first saw it. Somehow I’d thought it would be green and brown and ugly.
The bits of shore I could see were rough and rocky, with patches of sand scattered throughout. I thought how nice it must be to walk barefoot on the sandy spots on warm summer days.
At once, I felt a huge longing to walk the beach, combined with a strange sense of foreboding. The air in the car turned damp, and liquid seemed to fill my lungs with each breath. The temperature dropped, far too cold for July.
Disconcerted, I turned around for one last look at the shore before we headed into the town. An opening in the trees offered an unobstructed view, and I saw a woman jogging.
No, that wasn’t right. She was running. And she was wearing a dress. A really old looking dress. How odd.
A family picnicking on the beach sat directly in her path, yet she didn’t slow. She just kept running. She didn’t even seem to see them in front of her.
My heart picked up speed. I craned my neck and turned in my seat, the aged vinyl upholstery creaking as I shifted. Knowing the collision was imminent, I held my breath. The running woman plowed right into the family eating happily on their blanket.
I cringed.
Then realized that nothing had happened.
Mystery woman still ran down the beach with frantic speed, but the family still sat, enjoying their holiday picnic.
I squinted. She kept running toward a rock wall, and the forward momentum of our car took me further away. Her form grew smaller and... transparent?
No, of course not.
And then she disappeared, like dust blowing away in the breeze.
My skin warmed as the cold air in the car faded.
I rubbed my eyes, shook my head, and turned back to face the front of the car. It had been a very long day.
CHAPTER 1
The morning fog that swirled through Sky Cove had lifted. The sun warmed the air, and it was a lovely late-August day.
I’d convinced Mom not to drive me to school on my first morning.
On the day that I, Layla Bradford, started my junior year of high school in a strange and far-off place.
Well, maybe Sky Cove wasn’t exactly that far-off, but compared to Nashville, it might as well have been the other side of the universe.
Truth be told, the town was kind of nice. And the summer weather was spectacular. I’d been surprised to learn that gray and overcast wasn’t the norm for Maine. The sun apparently knew how to shine here as well as it did in Tennessee.
Yep, Sky Cove was lovely.
But it wasn’t the city. No crazy traffic. No shopping malls. Not that a shopping mall was ever a huge draw for me, but I did enjoy the bookstores. And I was pretty sure that the pleasant summer weather I’d been enjoying since my arrival two weeks ago would soon turn to a winter like I’d never seen before.
Great. I couldn’t wait.
The thing about being a teenager is that you’re at the mercy of your parents’ decisions. Mine decided to move to Maine, and despite the fact that it was about the last thing in the world I wanted, I didn’t have it in me to be one of those bratty, whiny kids who made their parents miserable when everything wasn’t going their way. Besides, I could see how excited my dad was about String City, the guitar store he now owned.
So... here I was.
Pulling my old, sensible Honda into the parking lot of Sky Cove Senior High School.
I’d worn my favorite baby-doll shirt, the teal green one. My mom said it matched the color of my eyes. I guess moms are supposed to say stuff like that, but the shirt did lend me a little confidence in my appearance. And because the breeze in a coastal town forever whooshed about in the mornings, I’d left the natural waves in my shoulder length brown hair. No sense spending all that time with a flat iron if the wind was just going to whip it around.
Another thing about this town is that, with a population of less than five thousand, there’s only one high school. Which means everyone knows everybody and there are no secrets.
Or so I’ve been told about small towns.
At any rate, I knew finding a way to fit in would be difficult. Most of these kids had grown up here and been in the same classes since nursery school.
Fitting in had never been my number one priority. No, I was always more of a blending in kind of girl. I didn’t try to be noticed by having the right friends or dressing the correct way. I just wanted to fly under the radar.
I hated being the center of attention.
Which was exactly what I became the moment I stepped through the front door of the school.
My mom and I had toured the school with the principal last week, which was helpful, because I already knew where my classes were and wouldn’t have to stumble my way through the first day. But what I hadn’t realized was that the front lobby was the gathering spot.
Kids sat in chairs, the floor, and leaned up against the walls. Every face turned and every eye focused on me as I walked in. I’d avoided, on purpose, arriving at school early, to steer clear of just this thing. They all stared, and I knew they were sizing me up, deciding whether or not I was worthy, and ultimately finding me lacking in the wow-she’s-hot department.
My silent plea for rescue was answered when the warning bell rang, sending students scattering on their way to homerooms.
Squaring my shoulders, I took a deep breath and turned toward my hallway. The school building had seen better days – probably in the 1960s – and the painted cinderblock walls and dingy gray tile floors held the scents of aged textbooks, the odd, generic odor of a school cafeteria, and the more recent smell of endless mists of body spray.
My homeroom was the third door on the right. A few students still loitered by the hall entrance, so I smiled as I walked past. One boy greeted me with a nod of his head that I was sure he believed to be very suave and cool. He wasn’t much taller than me, and I was five-three. Another guy, this one average height, looked at me with guarded, narrowed eyes, as if trying to figure out who I was. Two girls, clearly cheerleaders with their school-spirit shirts and ponytails tied with matching bows, looked at me with judgment in their eyes.
I sighed inwardly. Some things were the same no matter where you lived.
Behind the others was a taller boy, with dark blond hair, a deep golden that picked up the dreary fluorescent lights from the lobby and turned them into something special.
A zing of awareness barreled into me, an uneasy combination of both rightness and menace settling heavy in my stomach, and I had the strangest sensation that I’d felt exactly this way before.
Unlike some of the other guys I’d seen during that brief moment of panic in the crowded lobby, Mr. Dark Blond didn’t look like a slob. His green polo shirt was tucked into his jeans, and he wore a belt.
Of course, he had the kind of body that looked good with a tucked in shirt and belt accentuating his waist. Long, tall, and lean. And though I’d never considered myself a superficial, all-about-appearances person, I was girl enough to notice.
In the split second that I passed by him, all sorts of thoughts bounced around in my brain about how to acknowledge him. I’d smiled at the group, after all, and even nodded back to the shorter boy who’d wowed me with his head-nod. I couldn’t just ignore the cute one, could I?
But at the same time, I couldn’t make too big of a deal about him either.
I looked up at him, figuring some brief eye contact and a generic smile would do the trick.
But when my eyes met his, it was to find him already looking at me. Staring really, like he’d seen a ghost. Eyes wide. Mouth open slightly as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know what. The intensity was almost uncomfortable. And his eyes were crazy beautiful, deep and brown.
Did I have something on my face? Toilet paper stuck to my shoe?
Because really, there was no way he was actually noticing me. Not with the two Barbie dolls hanging all over him. I was not the kind of girl who attracted attention from boys like him.
And besides, he looked like he couldn’t decide whether or not to be happy about my presence.
But his stare continued, so I half-smiled at him, kind of apologetically, and with a shrug pushed my way into the hallway and found my homeroom.
***
My first class was chemistry, and the scent of hot Bunsen burners and what they’d once heated filled the room. This class was not going to be my favorite. I’d been indifferent about my biology class last year, and had gotten through it, managing to maintain my grade point average. But I had a feeling that chemistry was going to be a struggle.
Fortunately for me, I didn’t have a social life that got in the way of my study habits.
And also fortunately for me, I ended up paired with a science nut for a lab partner. Her name was Jessie Spencer, and she was actually really nice.
She seemed to be like me, an under-the-radar type.
I suppose you could say she was my first friend.
“I’ve never been further south that Boston,” she told me as the bell rang to end first period. “I bet Tennessee is really awesome.”
“I liked it a lot,” I answered. “But I lived there all my life, so I probably took it for granted.”
“You miss it, I’m sure.” She grabbed her books and headed for the door, her chin-length curly brown hair bobbing with every step.
Sure I did. But I wasn’t going to dwell on it.
“Some.” I picked up my backpack and walked into the hallway with her. “It’s hard starting over, but Sky Cove is really beautiful.”
It turned out Jessie’s locker was only three doors down from mine, and while we picked up books for our second period classes, she introduced me to two of her friends.
“Hey, this is Layla Bradford. She’s new here.” Since Jessie had been so kind to me this morning, I decided not to deduct points for stating the obvious.
“And these are my friends, Marsha Foster and Tiffany Caldwell.” She turned back to me. “Tomorrow after school we’re going to the beach. You should come.”
I told her I’d think about it, and said a quick hello to Marsha and Tiffany. We left moments later, as we all had classes to go to, but I had to admit Marsha and Tiffany had been just as kind and welcoming as Jessie. It seemed the three of them were just like I’d always been, middle-class citizens in the caste-system that was public high school.
Which was fine. It was a status quo I was familiar with.
A shiver of sensation danced up my spine as I left the row of lockers to find my next class. Looking around, I made certain no one was staring at me, then did a quick check of my appearance. My pants were not unzipped, bra strap was not showing. Short of mascara running down my face, it seemed nothing was wrong with the way I looked.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. The disturbing sense of unease returned full force.
Somewhere in my mind words bounced and ricocheted, and at the door to my classroom I stopped and closed my eyes.
Behind my eyelids a sentence began to take shape. Each word falling into place, like slot machine wheels, until I saw it clearly.
I won’t lose. Not this time.
Opening my eyes I took a deep breath to clear my head. How weird was that? What the heck did that mean? I chalked it up to the stress of starting a new school.
The hallway bustled with movement as kids rushed to second period. A sea of unknown faces washed passed me.
I must’ve been more nervous than I thought.
I squared my shoulders and stepped in to the classroom. Literature class. It wasn’t a required course, but rather one of the “elective” classes that I got to choose. So, of course, I chose something that involved reading.
I expected to see other bookworms in the room, and to some degree I wasn’t surprised. When I stepped through the door, I noticed three kids sitting quietly with books already out and opened. I smiled. Others like me, who read not because they were forced, but because they enjoyed. Near the front of the room were three girls with cell phones out, frantically sending text messages before the warning bell rang. I wondered if they were in this class because they signed up late and all the other electives were full.
Just as I was about to take a seat with the bookworms, I noticed him.
Him.
Mr. Dark Blond and Brown-Eyed.
On the far side of the room, with the one of two empty seats in the class right next to him.
When I looked at him, his eyes narrowed, in a way that seemed familiar and very unsettling, and reached over to remove his books from the unoccupied desk beside him. He dropped his eyes from me to the now empty desk and back again, like some sort of silent invitation.
And did he expect me to just sit there because he said to?
I was pretty certain that was how most girls reacted to him, so why should he think I’d be any different?
Well, I was different, and I was going to prove it by going over and taking the other empty seat with the bookworms.
But when I took a step, it was toward him. Despite the argument in my head, my feet took me in his direction until I was sitting in the very seat he’d cleared for me.
When had I become so weak?
I dropped my backpack on the floor, and stared at it, wondering what in the world I was supposed to say.
“I’m Lucas.”
Man, his voice was nice. Deep and mature, there was no hint of the cracking and squeaking of many guys my age. Nope, this was the voice of a boy solidly on the other side of puberty. Smooth and dark, like melted caramel.
“Hi,” I said, angry with myself for sounding sheepish, even to my own ears. “Layla.”
He nodded and leaned toward me, the wariness in his expression still present. He tilted his head, as if he needed a closer look. “Nice to meet you Layla.”
I knew I was blushing. I hated that. I could feel the heat creeping into my cheeks as his eyes scanned back and forth across my face. It made responding verbally to his compliment almost impossible.
I managed a muttered “thanks”, just as the warning bell rang and the teacher, Mrs. Chadwick, started class.
I glanced at Lucas once more, as Mrs. Chadwick took attendance, and found him looking at me with an expression that same expression… oddly curious, knowing. I couldn’t look away. And when he made no move to say anything, I broke the staring contest by opening my notebook.
Forty-seven minutes later, the bell to end class rang. The texters from the front of the class immediately went for their cells. Rolling my eyes, I reached toward the floor for my backpack, and my hand brushed Lucas’s as he bent to pick up his.
Electricity streaked through my arm, and I barely resisted the urge to wrench my hand away. Lucas’s eyes met mine, and though I felt certain he hadn’t felt the same punch I did, I was pretty sure my face was plastered with shock.
How embarrassing.
“Why are they even in this class?” I nodded toward the girls with the cell phones, hoping my question would put a stop to the awkward moment.
“They probably got stuck here when the other electives filled up.” He shrugged and grinned. Not only was it the first pleasant look I’d gotten from him, but his smile was a total killer. “Not a lot of kids choose to take a class where you have to read books.”
But apparently he did. Which was both a selling point and a mystery.
We stepped into the hallway at the same time, and before taking off, he looked back at me as if he wanted to say something. In that moment of hesitation before he spoke, the words began falling again, faster this time.
I stood, rooted to my spot. From the end of the hall someone called his name, and Lucas turned to join them.
Paralyzed, I didn’t move as the words fell into place.
No matter what I have to do.
CHAPTER 2
Though I tried not to, I worried about lunch all through the next two periods. I should’ve asked my new friend Jessie what time her lunch break was, but being overwhelmed with everything, I hadn’t thought about it. As a result, U.S. History, which under normal circumstances I would’ve enjoyed, was a blur, and the geometry class had seemed much more difficult to endure than it would have otherwise.
What if I had nowhere to sit and no one to talk to?
I imagined the worst-case scenario. Standing in the cafeteria, lunch tray in hand, looking at a room of full tables, the occupants staring back at me with no hint of invitation in their eyes.
So I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Jessie, along with Marsha and Tiffany, waving to me from a table in the center of the cafeteria.
The banana was the best part of lunch, as the turkey sandwich was pretty dry and the steamed broccoli was mostly tasteless, but I did meet a few other people at lunch. A couple of boys at our table seemed overly attentive, as if jockeying for position on the new girl’s priority list. They were decent guys, and I was pretty sure they didn’t often get the opportunity to try and impress girls. I felt bad, in a way, that they didn’t make an enormous impression, but I couldn’t recall any names by the end of the day.
Walking to my car, I thought to myself that as far as first days at a new school went, this one hadn’t been completely terrible. It was also worth noting that a late-August afternoon in Nashville, Tennessee would’ve most likely been sweltering. But here in Sky Cove it was warm without humidity, and the breeze was almost balmy as it lifted my hair off my shoulders.
Groups of kids were gathered at various locations in the parking lot. The traditional end-of-the-day debriefing I figured. I was almost to my car when one group of particularly athletic looking boys called my name.
I stopped, looked over my shoulder. I recognized none of them. Apparently they’d heard about me.
“Hey Layla!” the one with the short brown hair yelled.
I just stood there, unsure of how to respond. I didn’t even know their names.
“Lay-la,” he said again, putting the emphasis on the first syllable.
Great.
The other guys snickered. A slight crowd started to pile up.
“Lay Lay Lay-la,” he went on.
I began to hope the ground would open up and engulf me.
“Lay-la, why don’t you come over here and lay this.” A not-so-subtle pelvic thrust accompanied the last word.
I felt like a statue, and a complete idiot, rooted to the pavement, unable to move. I shook my head and rolled my eyes in disgust, thinking it would be best to just head to my car and ignore the display of ignorance. Even though a part of me – a part that never, ever found the nerve to come out – wanted to let loose with a series of stinging insults, all of which would be way above this moron’s vocabulary level.
“Shut up Miller!” came an angry voice from behind me.
And then he was there.
Shoving the idiot named Miller hard in the chest.
Miller stumbled back a few steps, looking stunned that Lucas had pushed him.
“Whoa, man.” He righted himself, then put up a hand in mock surrender. “I was just saying hello to the new girl.”
Lucas got right in his face and jammed a finger in Miller’s chest.
“What do you think you accomplish by talking to a girl like that?”
“Dude, look,” Miller stammered. “I was just kidding around.”
“You feel like a big shot when you act like a jerk?” Lucas took a step closer, now nose-to-nose with the idiot.
“Back off, Luke.” Apparently Miller-the-idiot found his spine, though I couldn’t figure out why he thought that was a good idea.
For whatever reason, Lucas was livid on my behalf.
How in the world had that happened? Since when did cute guys stick up for me, especially when they looked at me such guardedness?
“I don’t think so, Miller.” Lucas shoved again, and Miller had the good sense not to retaliate. “You’re the one who needs to back off.”
“Hey ladies,” Lucas said as he spun around to look at some of the girls who had gathered to watch the confrontation. “Any of you want to be talked to like that?”
Most of the girls just looked at each other or stared at their shoes.
But Lucas wasn’t finished. He turned back toward Miller.
“Congratulations, you just made yourself look like a pig in front of half the school.”
Never in my life had anyone defended me like this. The fact that I’d barely met him made it all the more unbelievable.
The fact that he was freaking gorgeous made it completely unbelievable.
Then he turned to me.
“Come on.”
And he took my hand and pulled me toward my car.
CHAPTER 3
Lucas steered me around to the driver’s side of my car with a gentle hand on the small of my back. I was both bewildered and exhilarated by the level of familiarity he displayed with me. And really uncomfortable with the fact that everyone in the parking lot was still looking at me.
“How did you know this was my car?” I grimaced. What a lame thing to say after he’d just defended my honor.
“You were headed this way,” he answered, taking my backpack off my shoulder and holding it while I fished inside the front pocket for my keys. “And this is the only car in the row I didn’t recognize.”
Apparently, he’d decided to quit eyeing me suspiciously.
“Um, I should thank you.” My hand closed around my keys. “For before.” Great, Layla. That sounded so grateful.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if still trying to calm down.
“Miller’s a complete moron.”
“There are idiot boys everywhere,” I said, unlocking my car doors. “I learned to ignore them a long time ago.”
“I’m sure you encountered plenty of jerks in Tennessee.” He opened the back door, put my backpack inside, and closed it. “But my mom would kill me if she found out I saw that and didn’t step in.”
“You know I’m from Tennessee?”
“News travels fast around here,” he said. “And I’m really sorry you had to deal with Miller’s stupidity on your first day.”
“Not your fault. But thanks again.”
He leaned against the back door, seeming in no hurry to leave.
“Lucas Ellis, by the way.” He extended his hand. “I realized I didn’t tell you my last name in lit class this morning.”
“Layla Bradford.” I put my hand in his, awed by the welcoming feeling that enveloped not only my fingers and palm, but my entire body. The touch of his skin on mine sent excitement coursing through me. A random thought went through my mind – Hadn’t I known it would be this way? - though I knew it was impossible.
I’d never felt anything like it before in my life.
“Well, Layla Bradford,” he said, not releasing my hand just yet. Reaching around me with his free hand, he pulled my door open.
I slid in wordlessly, and looked up at him.
He winked and shut it. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
***
My mom made my favorite - fettuccini alfredo - for dinner, in honor of my first day of school. Of course, the conversation in our muted green eat-in kitchen was the anticipated game of twenty thousand questions from my mom and dad about how my day went.
“Did you like your classes?”
“Did you make any friends?”
“How was the cafeteria food?”
I answered as vaguely as I could, without seeming too distracted. The truth was that the first day at Sky Cove Senior High hadn’t been all that bad. And the unpleasant encounter with Miller-the-idiot, whose first name I still did not know, had resulted in that amazing exchange with Lucas Ellis.
I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About him.
And I wasn’t about to talk boys with my parents.
“Cute boys?” Apparently my mom was not on the same page with me.
“A bit early for that, Mom.” I twirled a bite of pasta onto my fork and enjoyed the creamy garlic flavor.
“I guess you’re right,” she said with a grin that reached all the way to deep brown eyes that matched the dark mahogany of her hair.
My mom was great, and I loved her dearly. But Lucas Ellis? I just wasn’t ready to talk about him yet. It seemed... I don’t know... like he was just mine for the moment.
Crazy, stupid thoughts.
I mentally lectured myself on my stupidity.
“Do you have homework?” Thankfully Mom caught the hint and moved on to another subject.
“Not tonight,” I said, taking my empty dishes and rinsing them in the sink. “But I’m sure that will change tomorrow.”
“Probably right,” Dad put in, bringing his plate to the sink.
My mom and dad were older than most parents of kids my age, evidenced by the gray sprinkled through my dad’s black hair, but I liked to think that made them a little less uptight.
“I’m going to get my folders organized and my binder put together tonight,” I said as I loaded my dinner dishes in the dishwasher. It was a good excuse to escape to my room for a while.
Mom nodded. She knew my routine. I was a creature of habit. And after a day of school and dinner with my parents, I enjoyed a bit of alone time in my room with my iPod and my thoughts.
And tonight my thoughts were all about Lucas Ellis.
I felt brainless. He was just a boy. And I’d known him all of ten hours.
I decided I’d made too much of the incident this afternoon. It was my emotions getting the better of me. The stress of starting at a new school. The strain of feeling alone and putting on a happy face in spite of it.
I realized, though, that I hadn’t felt alone with Lucas. Either in literature class or in the parking lot. I felt... at home.
How crazy was that?
I turned on my box fan. I’d been unprepared for the fact that most houses in Maine didn’t have air conditioning. Summers were short here, and some houses had window units, but for the most part, people in Sky Cove just made due with fans during July and August.
Having been raised in the south, not having air conditioning was strange. And uncomfortable. Thus, the box fan.
I smiled as the moving air touched me and cooled my warm skin. I plugged my ears with headphones, and flipped to last year’s playlist on my iPod. Songs that had been current during the last school year pumped out of the tiny earbuds. I tried to imagine Nashville. Adrienne. My other friends. The places I liked to hang out.
None of it was successful at taking my mind off of Lucas.
It was as if my life in Tennessee was a million years ago and the present was all about him.
I flipped open my phone and fired off a text to Adrienne.
What’s up?
She responded immediately.
OMG! I miss u!
Naturally, the texting continued, but only marginally took my mind off Lucas.
I didn’t want to forget Nashville and the life I’d had there. I was a teenager, after all. Wasn’t I supposed to wallow in self-pity over the things and people I’d been forced to leave behind? Wasn’t I supposed to be miserable in this new place out of respect for my former home.
Yeah, that had never been my style. Self-pity wasn’t something I allowed myself. And, unlike some kids my age, I’d already realized that the world didn’t revolve around me one hundred percent of the time.
But right at this moment, I’d have gladly given in to teenage angst and drama if it would make me forget about Lucas Ellis.
I aimed the fan toward my bed and snuggled in, trying in vain not to picture dark blond hair and brown eyes.
Trying not to hear that smooth, caramel voice.
Sometime later, I finally fell asleep. And when I did, he was still on my mind.
CHAPTER 4
The next morning, the fog still lingered, thick and heavy, as I drove to school. Jessie was waiting in the parking lot for me when I pulled in. As glad as I was to have company for my inevitable walk into the front lobby, the look on her face told me that news of yesterday afternoon’s episode had spread.
“Is it true that Todd Miller was harassing you after school yesterday?” she asked.
So his first name was Todd. Funny, I still only thought of him as Miller-the-idiot.
“I suppose,” I grabbed my backpack from the backseat. “He was just being an jerk.”
“I heard Lucas Ellis put a stop to it.”
I considered how best to respond as we walked toward the building. Clearly, Lucas couldn’t expect his involvement to remain a secret. Not with the crowd that witnessed the exchange. But I didn’t want to make more of it than there was. High school reputations were a tricky balancing act, and you never knew what was going to tip the scales in one direction. Too much interest in the “new girl” could cause him problems.
I was also working very hard to not elevate him to hero status. Trying, but failing miserably.
“He was just being nice,” I shrugged.
“Yeah, well,” Jessie giggled. “Luke has a reputation of being a nice guy, but I’ve never heard of him getting into a confrontation like that.”
As if I needed another reason to put him on a pedestal.
“Who is Todd Miller anyway?” We’d reached the front door, so I lowered my voice as I pushed it open. “I hadn’t even laid eyes on him until yesterday afternoon in the parking lot.”
“School jock,” Jessie said. “Big star on the football and basketball teams. I suppose that’s why so many girls want to date him, even though he’s a jerk.”
“What about Lucas?” We shouldered through the crowd of people in the lobby, working our way down the hall to the door of our first class. “He looks like he’d be an athlete.”
“Luke’s a runner. Cross country, track and field. He does 5Ks and stuff like that in the off-season. Trains all the time. I heard he’s going to do a marathon this year.”
“How old is he?” I asked, trying nonchalantly to scan the hall in search of him.
“He’s a senior.” The warning bell rang and the lobby began to empty. Jessie and I headed into the classroom and took our seats. “And I heard he’s single again.”
I should not be interested in this. I should not. Yet I couldn’t stop the next question from leaving my mouth. “Again?”
“Right.” Jessie leaned closer, whispering. “He and Kara Jennings have been on and off over the past year. But I heard they broke up some time over summer break.”
My curiosity was put on hold when Mr. Hartley started class, and I decided that was a good thing. The conversation with Jessie had already revealed way too much of my interest in Lucas Ellis.
All through chemistry, I was painfully aware of the minutes ticking by. Every click of a pencil on a desk and every scrape of a chair moving against the floor set my nerves on edge. Though I told myself it was because I disliked the class, I knew it was a lie. I was in a hurry for this period to end because my next class was literature.
With Lucas.
Thankfully, I paid enough attention to get the homework assignment written down in my notebook. As the bell rang, Jessie handed me a slip of paper with her phone number on it, and instructions to call her tonight if I had trouble with it.
Bless Jessie. Both for her fast friendship, and her science expertise.
I went to my locker, trying not to hurry. Rushing through the visit with Marsha and Tiffany and sprinting to my next class would be a colossal show of stupidity. But geez, the five-minute break between classes seemed longer than fifty minutes of chemistry.
I deliberately slowed my steps as I approached my lit class. The bookworms were in the same spots as yesterday, books already out and open. The texting girls were still up front, fingers flying across the keys of their cell phones.
One of them had bathed in a sticky, floral smelling perfume, strong enough to make my eyes water. Sheesh. As if a guy’s going to be attracted to you just because you smell like a florist’s shop.
And Lucas was again on the far side of the room, clearing his books from the desk beside him when he saw me walk in.
It was easier today to make the walk across the room. I didn’t feel like I was being beckoned by a guy used to getting his way with girls. I felt like a boy who for some reason wanted to be kind to me was inviting me.
Good grief. This could be trouble. If I started having delusions of grandeur about a guy two social classes above me, I was doomed to disappointment and embarrassment.
Sliding into the seat next to him, I searched for something witty to say. Small-talk under pressure had never been my forte.
“Hey,” I said. “I’m happy to report that I haven’t seen Miller-the-idiot this morning.”
My words sounded ridiculous. Inane. I should’ve stopped with “hey”. Suddenly the fluorescent lights seemed like heat lamps as I felt my face heat from awkwardness.
“You won’t see him down this hall a lot,” Lucas chuckled. “He’s not much into the advanced courses.”
I took that to mean that Miller was either stupid or lazy, or a combination of both.
Lucas continued. “Your dad owns the big music store downtown, right?”
Again, he surprised me with the knowledge he already had about my life. Of course, Sky Cove wasn’t a huge metropolis, so he’d probably just heard it around town. It didn’t mean he was interested enough to go searching for information about me on his own.
“Right,” I answered, reaching in my backpack for my book and the folder I’d labeled for this class. Looking back at him, I couldn’t resist a lingering look at his deep brown eyes. Since I was looking straight at him, I figured I better say something else. I decided on my dad’s new slogan. “Vintage and new guitars and amps, and everything else you might need to start a rock band.”
Actually, my dad was now the owner of String City, a thriving business specializing in guitars, both new and old. Kind of strange to find a booming music store in the middle of small-town Maine, but the place had built a reputation over the years, and people were willing to travel to do business here. The previous owner was a guitarist my dad met in Nashville. He’d been in town often to do studio work, which is how my dad knew him. When he decided to move near his daughter and grandkids in Texas, he offered to sell the store to my dad.
And my dad was thrilled. Studio work was beginning to dry up for him as a new generation of musicians emerged, and he wanted out of the rat race anyway. A guitar store was the perfect fit for him.
“It’s a really cool place,” Lucas said. “People come from everywhere to buy guitars there.”
I nodded. “One of the many reasons my parents decided to buy it.”
“Do you play?” he asked.
I stifled a laugh, but not a grin, as I shook my head. “Uh, no. My dad’s tried to teach me a few things, but I don’t really have a gift for guitar the way he does.”
He smiled at me. “Well, I know nothing about guitar, so you should show me what you’ve learned sometime.”
I struggled not to crack up. As if I’d ever let him hear me fumble around with a guitar!
Mrs. Chadwick stood up to take attendance, just as the warning bell rang, and curbed our conversation.
CHAPTER 5
Over the course of the next couple of weeks, Luke and I settled in to a pattern of chatting before class. After our day off for Labor Day, he’d been in the parking lot after school each afternoon, and walked me to my car. The breezes became more and more blustery as summer pushed toward autumn, and the girly part of me found it terribly romantic to walk through the wind with Luke.
Of course, he was always on the way to cross-country practice, and I forced myself to acknowledge that his running was the only reason we ran into each other as I left school.
Despite my internal struggles to keep all things Lucas in the proper perspective, I discovered his reputation for being a nice guy was absolutely warranted. Whatever iffy feeling he’d had about me that first morning of school seemed to have disappeared. But I continued to be confused by his attention. He hadn’t been anything more than friendly, but it all seemed very strange. High school boys weren’t supposed to be friendly. They were either interested or uninterested, for a variety of reasons that usually had nothing whatsoever to do with the type of person you really were.
And besides, I was so ordinary, and Lucas was so... not ordinary.
Our quasi-friendship hadn’t gone unnoticed. Jessie was constantly interested in what Luke and I talked about. I assured her over and over again it was nothing - that we talked only because we happened to be in lit class together. But she was certain more was going on and successfully swayed Marsha and Tiffany to her way of thinking.
Most of the time I just rolled my eyes at them when they suggested Lucas was interested in me as more than a friendly acquaintance.
But apparently, other kids had started to notice as well. Several times, when Lucas walked me to my car in the afternoon, his normal crowd of people – fellow runners Corey Jacobs and Will Harlow, I’d learned - just waved at him from across they way, rather than trying to get his attention or convince him to join them.
I’d never been the object of so much speculation in all my life. I felt uncomfortable with the attention I was attracting, but secretly thrilled during those moments when Luke chose me over his buddies. It was stupid, this crazy mix of feelings I had going on.
Even Kara, attempted to gain his attention without success, though her efforts were a little less conspicuous. The best I’d been able to figure out, without asking him outright, he and she were not getting back together.
Which made me happy. Which, in turn, pissed me off at myself.
And yes, I had to admit, I’d called Adrienne, several times, and given her the scoop on Lucas. I thought it couldn’t hurt, since she was like ten states away. I missed her, but the “miss” was getting less and less the more I became a part of Sky Cove.
So, my first two weeks at Sky Cove Senior High were both easier and weirder than I imagined they would be.
It was my end-of-the-day locker stop that turned unfortunate, yet so very typical.
The piece of notebook paper taped to my locker read “Tennessee Hillbilly”.
Fantastic. How long had that been there? I hadn’t been to my locker since just after lunch, and nausea threatened as I thought about how many people could’ve seen the insult and had a laugh at my expense. It shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t bother me. I hated that it did.
Looking around, the few kids in the hallway all seemed occupied with their own stuff. I grabbed the paper as nonchalantly as possible, and wadded it up.
Several lockers down, a girl named Phoebe, who had a very dark personality despite her sunny blond hair and seemed to like the “grunge” style of clothing, glanced over and said, “People in this school suck.”
I figured she probably knew.
I tossed the wad of paper in the garbage on my way out of the building.
And so, the Friday of my second week ended, in many ways, the same as my first day. A few nice people, a lot of strangers, and a stupid teenage prank. Although, I did have to be a bit thankful it wasn’t Miller-the-idiot and his vulgar joke this time.
Walking to my car, the afternoon sun was still warm, the heat of it a pleasant hum on my skin. And Lucas was there, taking my backpack and tossing it into the backseat.
I chose to forget about the hillbilly sign. Well, I chose to try and forget about it.
“So, you have big plans this weekend?” he asked.
“Not really.” I fumbled around with my keys, taking longer than usual to unlock my door. Why was he asking about my weekend plans? “I work at the store on Saturdays until three, and after work Jessie and I are studying for our first chemistry test.”
I opened my door, but instead of getting in, I turned back toward him.
“I remember Mr. Hartley’s tests from last year,” he said. “They can be lengthy.”
“I was afraid of that,” I laughed. “Fortunately, Jessie’s good at it, so maybe she can help me get prepared. You have plans?”
“Cross-country meet this afternoon,” he said. “First one of the season.”
“Wow. Good luck, then.”
“Thanks,” Lucas nodded. He put his hands in his pockets and looked down at the ground, a kind of awkward gesture I hadn’t seen from him before. “And listen, when you have the time, if you want a tour of the town, let me know. I’ll be happy to show you around.”
My brain broke in half, into two distinct and very different pieces. One part wanted desperately to believe Lucas was asking me out, because he liked me in that way. My heart hammered wildly, and my breath became shaky. The second part of my brain shouted loudly at the first part, declaring my stupidity at even considering such a ludicrous idea, furthermore ordering my heart to get itself under control.
In the end, I decided to believe the second part. It was much safer that way.
“Thanks,” I replied, forcing my tone of voice to show absolutely no enthusiasm. At least I hoped so. “Maybe sometime.”
He studied me for a second, and I wondered if I’d offended him. I mean, he’d seemed kind of nervous when he’d said it. As much as I didn’t want my imagination running away with my heart in tow, I also didn’t want to make him upset at me.
“I wanted to thank you again,” I began. “Not just for rescuing me from Miller that first day, but also for being so nice to me. I didn’t think I’d be able to make new friends this quickly.”
“Well, you have.” He smiled, pulling my driver’s door open wider. “See you soon, Layla.”
My name, spoken in his caramel smooth voice made my insides melt.
I cranked my car, but didn’t pull out right away. Instead I pretended to dial my cell phone while I watched him walk away, black polo tucked into perfectly distressed blue jeans with a black, D-ring canvas belt at his waist.
And that first part of my brain went haywire all over again.
CHAPTER 6
On my way to String City the following morning, I decided to take a scenic drive through town. Dad had gone in to open the store at nine o’clock, but he didn’t expect me in until ten. Even now, the morning fog still lingered, gray and smoky, and atmospheric as all get out.
So, I took my time, winding my way through some of the old neighborhoods on my way to downtown Sky Cove.
The houses were beautiful, painted in both vibrant colors and bright whites. Many of them been carefully restored by owners who took great pride in their homes.
At the far end of Old Birch Lane a house stood alone, separated from the rest of the neighborhood. Swirled with fog, but still visible, I could tell it was older than the rest, both by the size and the look. It had a sort of character the other houses did not.
I couldn’t help but slow down as I drove past. My foot moved to the brake almost of its own volition.
The house itself was nothing special. The black shutters stood in stark contrast to the chipping white paint. The main part of the house was an undersized rectangle, with a door in the center of the long wall and two windows on either side of the door. There was no porch or even a stoop with an overhang. An even smaller rectangle room – it couldn’t have been any larger than a little bedroom – was attached to the main part of the house. One door and two tiny windows provided access to it.
From the road, I could make out two outbuildings behind the house. Both looked to be nothing more than shacks, and I wondered if the ramshackle look of them was natural or due in large part to painstaking restoration.
For a long moment, I stared at the house. It seemed beautiful to me, even though it was nothing compared to the other houses in the neighborhood. And, though I’d never seen it before, I felt a familiar connection to it I could not explain.
Inside me, strange emotions bumped into each other. It was as if I were stepping into a whirlpool of longing and joy and uncertainty and foreboding. Everything around me came into sharp focus. I was intensely aware of the cinnamon flavor of my chewing gum, the feel of the cool air coming from the vents, the sounds of the music coming from my car stereo. I felt my mind memorizing the moment for future reference.
I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I accelerated slightly, pausing to appreciate the blueness of the sky and the cottony white clouds. Passing the driveway to the small little house that had captured my attention, I noticed it was an antique store. How appropriate, I thought, for the house that was obviously the oldest one in the neighborhood to be a showplace for treasures that had been seasoned with time.
I made a mental note to visit the Emerson House of Antiques as soon as possible. Like tomorrow.
For reasons I could not begin to fathom, I wanted to get inside that house.
***
My five-hour shift, which included a thirty-minute lunch break, had been productive. I’d swept the hardwood floors and dusted the counter and the shelves until the place smelled of homey, lemon furniture polish. I’d also helped Dad sell a beginner guitar to a young kid and his father, as well as a pricey Gibson Les Paul to a guitarist from down in Biddeford.
String City had a real vintage vibe, and not just from the classic guitars my dad had in stock. The dark hardwood on the floor and the light oak paneling on the walls gave the place an inviting appearance, and though Dad had a computer for ringing up purchases and printing receipts, he’d kept the old cash register on the counter, just for looks.
At three o’clock, I headed out the front door. My car was parallel parked a few spaces down from the storefront, and as I walked down the wide sidewalk, I looked around. It was pretty cool, to see the way people stopped and talked, or waved at each other from opposite sides of the street. People in Sky Cove knew one another.
Energy buzzed here, unlike anything I’d known before. Was it just the newness of life here that made me notice, or was there a magic in Sky Cove that didn’t exist elsewhere?
On my way home, I couldn’t resist driving back down Old Birch Lane, past the house that for some reason was the object of my intense curiosity. I wondered if my interest would be piqued or satisfied once I’d walked through the building. My questions would have to wait for another day, since I expected Jessie to arrive at my house any moment.
Right on time, she pulled into my driveway right after me, leaving her Mustang parked behind my Accord. She bounded out of the car, sunglasses pushed up on her head, and I realized that I was glad to see her. And not just because of her chemistry expertise.
She’d become a real friend, and the thought made me smile.
“Hey Jess!”
“Hi there.” She pulled her backpack from the car and tossed the sunglasses to the front seat. “How was work?”
“Terribly exciting stuff,” I said, heading up the front porch steps. “Sweeping and dusting.”
“I think it’s so cool that your dad’s a musician,” she said as I motioned for her to go in before me. “Was he ever in a band?”
“A couple of local ones.” I shut the door behind me. “Mostly he did studio work, played for different artists on their recordings.”
“That’s so exciting!”
I’m sure dad’s previous occupation sounded glamorous, but to me it was just the way things had always been.
“You know what else is exciting?” Jessie asked, wiggling her eyebrows like she always did when she had something interesting to share. “I heard we won the cross-country meet yesterday, and a certain handsome runner came in first.”
“I have no idea who you’re talking about.” I rolled my eyes.
“Well, I know you’re not crazy about chemistry, so I thought maybe a little Lucas news would make it more bearable.”
Studying for the test turned out to not be so bad, and I actually felt prepared by the time Jessie left. We’d gone over our notes, re-read parts of the textbook, and, over a pepperoni pizza, had quizzed each other.
Afterward, I retreated to my room for some much-needed iPod time. The sun was fading fast, and though it was early for a Saturday night, I felt drained from work and chemistry overload.
I hit play, laid back, and closed my eyes.
The house I’d noticed this morning floated through that shadowy haze that happens when you close your eyes. It didn’t take a lot of effort to imagine it newer, pristine, full of lively activity. I saw it change with the seasons, golden and red leaves falling in the yard, snow covering the roof, tiny green buds on the trees, and vibrant in the summer sun.
A woman opened the door, and I immediately knew she was happy. The scent of fresh bread escaped from the house, and anticipation coursed through her. She was waiting for something... or someone.
As if looking through the lens of a digital camera, I zoomed in on the woman standing in the door. I took note of her plain dress, the dingy white apron covering her bodice and skirt. She looked like she could’ve stepped right out of an episode of “Little House on the Prairie”.
And then I saw her face. My breath caught in my chest, and my eyes widened in shock.
My own face stared back at me, with a smile so huge I wondered why her face didn’t crack. She beamed with elation. I could feel her happiness in every molecule of my body.
Zooming my dream-lens back out, I saw the man walking through the yard toward her. He, too, looked like a throwback to the 1800s, with his boots and suspenders. Instantly, I knew he was coming home to her. To the woman who had my face.