Eyes Unveiled Read online

  It wasn’t okay. Would it ever be?

  Jaycee’s words filtered to mind. Keep standing. Just. Keep. Standing.

  chapter twenty-three

  Dance

  Somewhere along one continuous cycle of shuffling between classes, November colors had withered behind December frosts. My boots crunched along the salt-covered sidewalk.

  A. J. materialized next to me out of nowhere. “Hey, stranger.” He flicked the book in my hand. “Heard you’ve been ditching your friends for the much more exhilarating companionship of your textbooks.”

  “Sorry, A. J., I’m not very good company right now. Think it’s better if I keep to myself.”

  He rested his hand over my forearm and drew us both to a stop. “Better for who?”

  Beside us, a maple tree’s leafless branches mirrored the same transparency in A. J.’s expression—an expression that sent me rushing down the sidewalk, away from him and what I didn’t want to face.

  “Heartaches heal, Emma,” he called up to me. “But only if you let them.”

  I stopped. The textbook clasped in my arms couldn’t prevent his words from penetrating. The wind coursed through my knit scarf straight to my vocal chords. “Some things aren’t reparable.”

  A. J. caught up to me. “Just because someone doesn’t know what he lost, doesn’t mean it isn’t worth keeping.” He turned me around and lifted my chin. “You have a lot to offer, Em.”

  The honesty in the way he looked at me couldn’t block out the memory of Ms. Steele’s sharp eyes searching mine for a list of all I had to offer—a list that never came.

  “You’re wrong.” I wiped my cheek with my sleeve. “Not that it even matters. This is probably my last month here anyway. I bombed my interview for the internship I was really counting on.”

  “So. Move on to the next one.”

  I shrugged past his straight-faced pose. “Thanks, Captain Sensitivity.”

  He caught up to me again, laughing this time. “What were you expecting? A pity party? Think you’ve got that covered all by yourself.”

  “Wow. I’d offer you a shovel, but I doubt you can dig that hole you’re standing in any deeper.”

  A. J. set my book on the ground, grabbed my hands, and wiggled my arms like wet noodles at my sides. “C’mon, shake it off. I know rejection stings, but regret is worse. Trust me. You gotta get yourself back in the fight. Never hold back, remember?”

  Yeah, look where that’d gotten me. Besides, it was too late. Mr. Oakly had it right all along. Life was a competition, and I’d lost. I couldn’t prove my merit if I didn’t have any. The sooner I accepted that, the better.

  “The fight’s over. I can’t meet my advisor’s deadline.”

  “Why don’t you talk to Dean Jefferies directly? Ask for an extension.”

  “I don’t think that’ll fly.”

  “You don’t know if you don’t try.” A. J. angled his head, stroked his chin, and stared at me like a coach debating on whether to put me back in the ring. “You got some fight left in you, girl, I can see it.”

  “Oh yeah? How’s this?” I tugged his beanie over his eyes and shoved him off the sidewalk.

  He hopped in front of me, undaunted. “Think we need to work on that. Why don’t you hang out with me this afternoon?” He peered from side to side, bent forward, and lowered his voice. “I know a couple of guys we can sucker into a racquetball match. I’ve brushed up on my hustling skills since our last game. So, don’t worry.” He winked. “They’ll never see it coming.”

  “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

  “Uh-uh-uh. Careful. You don’t want anybody to see that smile of yours. You might give them the impression you still remember how to be happy.”

  Where was a racquet when you needed it? “Cute, A. J.”

  “You know what you could use?” he persisted. “A night on the town.”

  I tripped over my book and landed on a stone bench with my legs dangling over the side.

  “Case in point.” He helped me to my feet. “Seriously, Eeyore, you need to get out from under this cloud and engage life again. It misses you.”

  I grabbed my book back. “Pretty sure the world carries on just fine without me.”

  “Nope. Trust me. It definitely doesn’t know what to do with itself when you give it the cold shoulder.” He uncrossed his arms, the playfulness in his voice giving way to an unexpected sobriety. “Life’s meant to be lived, not waded through with regret.”

  His words landed straight to my gut, but knowing he was right didn’t make it any easier. “Guess I’ve been pretty detached lately, haven’t I?”

  He started to clap. “Congrats. You just won the understatement of the year award.”

  “All right, fine. I’ve been zombified. Is that a better description?”

  “More like a rogue zombie on Benadryl.”

  I swung my textbook into his stomach and skirted past him again. My coat scratched against his puffer vest. “Don’t you have a J. Crew photo shoot to go to or something?”

  He raised a sassy brow. “Are you saying you think I look like a model?”

  “You’re impossible sometimes, you know that?”

  “Guilty,” he said with over-agreeing dimples. “But that’s why you love me.”

  My eyes rolled in response to his witty charm. “You better be careful on this ice. That big head of yours might throw you off balance, and where would your model career be if you fell on that pretty face?”

  Exaggerating a wink to match his from earlier, I ambled around the corner to my apartment.

  A pink sticky note on the bulletin board above the phone fluttered in the breeze when I opened the door. Mr. Oakly called, it read. Said it’s urgent. As opposed to the last two times he called? I shut the door, sighed. I had to face him sometime.

  Jaycee bounced down the hallway with the energy of having one too many cups of coffee.

  “Trev and I are going out tonight. But tomorrow, we’re finishing decorating for Christmas. You and me. No excuses.”

  “Um . . . okay . . .” I turned to Trevor in a silent plea for a little assistance.

  He backed away, palms up in surrender. Coward.

  Jaycee’s two-tiered earrings jangled with the same sharp pitch her eyes unleashed on me. “Don’t look at me like that. We haven’t had girl time in forever. There’s an entire cheesecake in the fridge waiting for us. And hazelnut hot chocolate. With whipped cream. Oh, and I already made a Christmas playlist.” Her voice had jacked up three octaves by the time she stopped to breathe.

  Trevor reentered, thumbs hooked in his jean pockets. “Don’t worry, Em. It’ll be fun.”

  “Does that mean you’re helping?”

  “Wouldn’t want to deprive you two of precious bonding time,” he said without missing a beat. “But tonight, I’m taking my girl dancing.” He stole Jaycee from me, twirled her around, and lassoed her in for a kiss.

  “Okay, okay, already. Why bother going out to dance? You two can just put on a theatrical presentation here.”

  Jaycee pirouetted down the hall. “Be ready in five.”

  “Meet you out front. I’m gonna warm up the car,” he said on his way out the door.

  I came up behind Jaycee. “You know, when you two aren’t making me gag, you’re kind of adorable.”

  “You taking lessons from A. J. on how to give a compliment?”

  I plopped onto my bed. “No, really, I mean it. It’s like you live in this real-life fairy tale.”

  “Why, because we’re in love? That’s not a fairy tale. It’s just another part of the dance of everyday life.”

  Maybe for people like her. I twisted a loose thread from my comforter around my finger. “Just because someone doesn’t know what he lost, doesn’t mean it isn’t worth keeping.” My heart couldn’t be worth keeping when those I gave it to always left me.

  Jaycee tied her scarf into intricate artwork. “Don’t give up on the dance, and it won’t give up on you
.”

  I fell backward, the mattress springs moaning with doubt. “Yeah, I don’t think it necessarily works that way, Jae.”

  A second after I threw my pillow over my face, the bed dipped beside me. She tugged the pillow away. “I know it’s hard to see right now, but there’s an incredible plan for your life. One you’re being made ready for through everything you face—even the loneliness you might feel sometimes. One with good things ahead for you. Love included.”

  It wasn’t contrived or a well-meaning platitude. It was a statement of conviction. One I wished were my own.

  I smiled through a sniffle. “Sure I can’t skip this part of the plan?”

  She squeezed my hand. “Your dreams are coming,” she said on her way to her dresser. “And they’re gonna be worth every step it’s taken to get there.”

  The wind howled outside our window and tapped the screen against the glass. The heater vent fanned the leaf on my desk into the picture of Dad and me. Dreams. Promises. Hope. Maybe it was all an out-of-reach fairy tale.

  Jaycee zipped up her boot. “I can stay home tonight. Trevor won’t mind.”

  “Are you kidding? After his little warm-up round earlier, he’d be devastated.” I swiped a book off a stack on my desk. “I have my own date with a mystery novel. I’m good.”

  Jaycee stashed a tube of lip-gloss in her clutch purse. “You can always play some Christmas music. But that cheesecake better still be here when I get back.”

  “No promises,” I yelled on my way to the living room.

  I flipped on the Christmas lights. Two red and green totes hid the top of the coffee table. It was bad enough when we had only a dorm room to plaster with tacky Christmas decorations. Now we had an entire apartment. She’d already outdone last year in the living room alone. The multicolored tinsel topped it off. We were bound to win some kind of award.

  Jaycee peeked around the wall while she stroked a final touch of rosy blush over her cheek. “You positive you want to stay in tonight?”

  “I love you guys, but the prospect of being a third wheel? While dancing, no less? Yeah, not happening. You guys have fun. Show everyone up with those dance moves of yours.”

  “Psh, girl, we’re gonna own that dance floor. Trev knows the DJ.”

  Of course he did.

  Halfway through the front door, Jaycee stopped one more time. In a mauve knit beanie, brown boots over her jeans, and a glittery scarf topping her sweater, she glowed with a beauty that made it easy to understand why Trevor’s face lit up every time he looked at her.

  “You’ll probably be asleep by the time I get back, so I’ll see you in the morning, ‘kay?”

  The sound of the door shutting echoed throughout the quiet apartment until the refrigerator’s soft hum took its place. Settling into my favorite kitchen chair, I warmed my fingers around my mug and tried to drink in Jaycee’s assurance.

  A happy ending coming? Not all of us got to live the fairy tale. Some only got to read about them.

  I opened my novel. The business card Miriam had given me fell out. I completely forgot sticking it in there.

  A knock at the door rippled across the quiet room. My flinch shook my chair against the table. Tea streamed down my hands. Who’d be coming by at this hour? Slurping up the liquid from my palm, I crossed the kitchen and cracked the door halfway open.

  I should have known.

  chapter twenty-four

  Letting Go

  A. J. stood smack in front of the door with his hands behind his back and a look growing more mischievous by the second. There went a quiet, uncomplicated night alone.

  He peered around me at the novel teepeed open on the table. “Mm hmm. Just as I expected. Still having a hard time closing the chapter on the solitary confinement scene you’ve been stuck in, huh? I had a feeling this might call for some reinforcements.”

  He flung his arms out from behind his back, a DVD in one hand and a Gingerbread House kit in the other.

  I crossed my arms over my hoodie and shook my head.

  “Oh, c’mon. I know you can resist my dashing charm, but David Bowie?” He waved the DVD in front of me. “Even you can’t say no to Labyrinth.”

  My tight lips yielded to a smile. “Okay, fine, you win.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. Did you just say I won?”

  I let go of the door, eyes rolling. He strutted inside and picked up a snowman nutcracker next to a dancing cowboy Santa Clause from the end table. “Wow, these are um . . .”

  “Festive?”

  “Not exactly the word I was looking for.”

  “I know. I told Jaycee we should have a tacky Christmas sweater party to complement the decorations.”

  “Sweet, can I borrow one of yours?”

  I snatched the nutcracker from him. “Funny.”

  “Just trying to make sure I get to see your smile again. Memories don’t do it justice.”

  Did he always have to hold that look in his eyes?

  He inched a little closer. “There’s the Rosy I’ve been missing.”

  I scuttled to the table in search of my mug and a chance for the heat to drain from my face. He didn’t think . . . I mean, he knew we were just friends, right? Even if Riley didn’t want my heart, I’d left it with him. There wasn’t anything else to give to someone else.

  A. J. tossed his leather coat over a chair. “First things first.” He picked up the corner of my novel with two fingers and let it dangle in the air like a piece of trash he didn’t want to touch. “Let’s dispose of this accomplice keeping you away from your friends.”

  “And you call me melodramatic? Give me that.” I stuffed my rescued book under the seat cushion next to me and sipped my now-lukewarm tea.

  A. J. swiped off his beanie, dropped into the nearest chair, and spun the Gingerbread House box in a circle on the tabletop. “Second step, remember how to be a kid again.”

  I lifted up my mug right before the box skidded across the table into my stomach and slurped tea from my fingers yet again. Glancing at the cover made it hard not to give in. “Okay, I’ll do it. But only because the sooner we put it together, the sooner I get to see David Bowie.”

  “See, I knew he’d drive you crazy. It’s the hair, isn’t it?”

  I threw his beanie at him. Whether or not I wanted to admit it, A. J. had a gift for making me laugh.

  His attention ping-ponged between the design on the box and the heap of miniature candy canes, gumdrops, and licorice strewn across the table. With his hair flattened from his beanie, he looked like a kid in a kindergarten class, trying to figure out how to put a puzzle together.

  “You don’t know how to do this, do you?”

  “No idea.” He held up two pieces of the giant cookie. “Between your festive Christmas decorations and these sugar-coated walls, I feel like someone just vanquished me into a Candy Land board game.”

  “If it makes you feel better, I promise to come play basketball with you some time.”

  He blasted a look of disbelief my way. “Promise?”

  I shrugged. “I sort of owe you a rematch, don’t I?”

  “You got that right. And no child’s play there, either. You’re going down, sugar.” He popped two gumdrops in his mouth.

  I hurled one straight at his face. “Really, A. J.?”

  “What?” He flung his hands out to either side of him. “We’re going to eat it when we’re all finished, right?”

  “Just help me hold these pieces up while I layer on the icing.”

  Twenty minutes later, we both stepped back from the kitchen table with fingertips mortared in frosting, and eyeballed our master creation. It was a little lopsided, and definitely skimpy on the gumdrops, but charming nonetheless. A. J. reached to break off a piece of cookie.

  I smacked his hand. “Don’t even think about it. We have to enjoy our hard work for at least a little while.”

  “Exactly.” He reached again.

  “You know what I mean.”

&nbs
p; “Okay, okay.” He licked the sugar off his thumb as he ducked into the living room. “But if you’re gonna deprive me of candy, then you at least gotta sing along with David Bowie to make up for it. C’mon. We can do a duet. I’ll sing the goblins’ part. You rock the solo.”

  “Does anyone ever tell you how crazy you are?” I called from the pantry.

  His husky bravado carried into the kitchen. “Only you.”

  I grabbed two bags of popcorn and flopped down on the opposite end of the couch from him. The night’s dropping temperatures etched crystallized designs across the windows, but the bitter cold couldn’t extend its arms inside. Not tonight. Tonight, I began to thaw the frost from the inside out.

  In my over-worn hoodie, fleece pants, and fuzzy socks, I drank my reheated cup of tea and remembered what it felt like to have fun again.

  Watching a 1986 movie was comical enough without A. J. sending me past the snorting phase into the laugh-so-hard-no-sound-comes-out phase. I wouldn’t have to do abdominal workouts for a month.

  By the time the credits rolled, we’d torpedoed enough popcorn missiles from both ends of the couch to turn the space between us into a bona fide battle zone. Sitting beside A. J., hands coated in sugar and salt, buttery kernels in my hair, I couldn’t help thinking back to the night we first met. He’d broken every presumption I’d made about him.

  Except one.

  He turned out to be a good friend. One I needed more than I realized.

  He stalled in front of the door, fumbling the DVD case around in his hands.

  I nodded toward the kitchen table. “You can have a piece of the gingerbread now.”

  His face lit up in mock horror. “Before you have the chance to show our creation to Jaycee? Wouldn’t dare.” He patted his contented stomach. “Think I’ve had enough for tonight, anyway. You enjoy it for a few days. Just be sure to save me a little for next time.”

  I poked him in the arm. “Are you covertly making an excuse to come and check on me?”

  A self-conscious laugh colored his face a shade lighter than the candy canes dressing the gingerbread. “Apparently, not very well.” He shifted his beanie back and forth over his head.