Breakable (19 page)

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 Karyn.

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.

“I
can’t believe you brought that up!” I gasped when I could breathe again.

Mark
chuckled. “I’m sorta proud of it, actually. The first time I got naked with a
girl I was seven!”

“Ugh!
Stop!” It was completely innocent, of course. We’d stood across a room pulling
our shorts up and down so fast we barely saw more than pink skin, then giggling
and shushing each other. I still laughed whenever I thought of it. “It was your
idea. Pervert.”

Mark
shrugged. “You could have said no.”

I
smacked my forehead dramatically. “Why didn’t I think of that?! Thank you! Now
I know what to do next time you ask me to get naked.”

In
my head it sounded like a joke. Taunting. But as soon as the words were out of
my mouth, all I could see was Mark and me back in my bedroom. Except we weren’t
young and innocent anymore.

And
Mark must have seen it too, because his laughter died right next to mine.

Our
eyes latched and my pulse thumped in my ears. I wanted to make light of it,
laugh it off. But the look on his face…

There
was shock in his half-open mouth, his wide eyes fixed on mine. It made my hands
shake. He had no right to look at me like that.

But
he did. He kept staring and I kept imagining him standing in front of me, his
hand lifting to touch my face, fingers trailing down my neck to the top button
of my blouse. His lips closing on mine. His skin on mine. His breath in my mouth–

I
stood up so fast my chair tipped over. “I’ve got to get some painting done.”
The easel room was only two tables away. I grabbed my workbook and fled. But a
minute later Mark’s chair screeched. While I wrestled with the screws on an easel,
he came up behind me and leaned in, his arms circling my shoulders to grasp the
wretched thing. Under his hands it complied, of course.

“Thank
you.”

Then
I was just there, knelt between his arms. I pushed to my feet, but with the
easel on one side and Mark on the other, there was nowhere to go. Mark’s hands
fell back when I rose, but he didn’t move away.

I
was close enough to see the tiny pin-pricks of stubble in a line on his jaw
where he’d shaved too fast. I imagined running my lips along it, touching the
rough barbs with my tongue–

“Stace?”

Go
away. Go away. Go away. You’re hurting me.
“What?”

“Last
night, when I found you upstairs…”

“I
told you, it wasn’t as bad as it looked.”
Damn! Why did he have to bring
that up?

He
grimaced. “No, I mean…” He leaned closer. 

“What?”
My heart beat too fast. “What?!” I said, a little harder because I knew what it
looked like when a guy thought about kissing you. But Mark wouldn’t be thinking
about that. Would he? Oh, God, please let Mark be thinking about that.

Mark
swallowed, but didn’t look away. “It made me mad,” he said softly.

I
waited, but there wasn’t anything else. Just him, standing too close, staring
at my mouth.

He
couldn’t be doing this. Was he implying that he thought about an “us”? Him and
me?

Then
Mark leaned down, his eyes on my lips. I stopped breathing.

Just
do it, Stacy. Just lean in and kiss him. Just
do
it.

I
sucked in a breath and started tipping towards him when the door into the art
room shuddered and thumped.

“Stace?
You in there?”

Mark
and I sprang apart like a rubberband snapping under too much tension. I almost
knocked the easel down and had to twist around to save it. While I worked on
steadying it, I cursed my luck.
Dex?
Now? Really?

“Stace?”
Dex called from behind the locked door.

I
stumbled past Mark, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me to a stop.

Yes.
Yes. Yes.

I
looked him in the eye, but he didn’t say anything.

The
door banged again and I kept staring, waiting.
Tell me to ignore it.

Mark
opened his mouth, then closed it again. He cleared his throat and let go of my
arm. “You better get that, I guess.”

Disappointment
opened a hole under my feet. My stomach sank with the drop. I nodded, stumbled
out of the easel room and across the floor, to the door where Dex had his hands
cupped around his eyes, peering through the window.

Pasting
on another sick smile, I waved and, flipping the lock on the door with shaking
hands, pulled it open for him.

That
didn’t just happen.

Mark
didn’t just look at me like…

No.
He didn’t.

Dex
gave me a quick kiss, then flashed a gorgeous grin. “I thought maybe you’d left
already.”