No One Needs to Know (14 page)

I want to stare, because she’s in a pink tank top and pajama pants, her hair in a low pony tail and her face make-up free. She looks prettier than I’ve ever seen her, in the tiny kitchen with a little blue apron tied around her slim waist.

“Nice.” I grab one of the clean plates next to the platter, stab the crooked smiley-face-shaped pancake, and squeeze a liberal amount of syrup on top. I’m all too aware of the way she’s watching me, and heat creeps up my neck. Unlike her, I don’t look cute in the mornings, and my pajamas are mismatched. “I didn’t know you can cook.”

“Ah, yes. And clearly I’ve really been holding out on you,” she says, gesturing to the pancake on the grill.

I laugh and go to the table at the end of the kitchen,
sitting down in one of the ’70s style vinyl seats. I’m not sure how we’re supposed to act, but when Olivia looks up a moment later, she gazes at me intently, searching my eyes.

It’s enough acknowledgement. I nod, and she smiles back, and it has nothing to do with the lake or the pancakes. It’s about us. It’s about last night.

It’s weird to think I ever hated her, ever thought she was just like Ava.

It brings me back to that first night at the condo, when I told her I was waiting to see the substance behind her pretty façade.

I see it now.

“So, I was thinking more about our project,” she says, turning back to the grill.

“Yeah?” I take my first bite of pancake. I can tell it’s just box mix, but it’s delicious and warm and I want a hundred more.

“Yeah. I was thinking we should work together more. At my house again. It’s due soon, so we need to finish it up.”

“Oh. Yeah. That could work,” I say. “I only have a couple of shifts at work this week.”

Liam comes out of the bedroom then, and as soon as I glance over at him, I feel my cheeks warm. Not because he looks good—he does, with his hair kind of tousled and his pajama pants sitting low on his hips—but because I feel like he just caught me and Olivia in the midst of … something.

But we’re just talking.

“Coffee,” he mumbles, clearly oblivious to the shift in my relationship with Olivia.

Olivia points to the coffeemaker at the end of the counter. “Already got you covered.”

He focuses on pouring himself a tall mug, and Olivia steps back to make a funny face at me behind his back.

I’m grinning from ear to ear when Liam turns and leans back against the counter, glancing over at me. I drop the smile, trying to act casual.

“You guys want to swim today?” he asks.

“Definitely,” Olivia says.

He walks to the table, smelling of coffee, and kisses my temple. “Sleep well?”

“Yep. Like a rock.”

Seemingly satisfied, he turns away and grabs a plate. “Hope you’re planning to make a dozen more of these, because I’m starving.”

“You got it, bro,” Olivia says. “I’ll make so many you can eat until you explode.”

By noon, it’s warmed up enough for us to go down to the dock in our swimwear. I’ve got a towel wrapped around me, and I’m feeling a little self-conscious and a lot excited to swim. I haven’t actually swum in years, since our middle school PE class did a unit on it and we went to the local pool.

There’s a big table at the end of the dock and I follow Olivia’s lead, kicking off my flip-flops and tossing my towel onto the glass surface, which exposes me in all my pale, gangly
glory. Ignoring the warmth of Liam’s eyes on my skin, I stride to the end of the dock and, without hesitation, leap.

It’s an ugly, half-assed cannonball, and as the water swallows me up, covers my head, I don’t even care. The lake feels glorious on my skin.

I break the surface, grinning as I tread water. I never want to leave. I just want to float around and enjoy the slippery, soothing feeling.

I twist around, looking back up at the dock to see if they’re coming too, but no one’s there. I narrow my eyes, and I’m about to call out when the sound of heavy footsteps on wooden boards breaks the silence.

And then Liam and Olivia appear simultaneously, racing to the edge of the dock and leaping, flying, over my head, synchronized in their motions. For a moment I can picture them as kids practicing their jumps, doing it again and again and again.

I close my eyes against the splash, and then wipe the water from my face.

Olivia’s head appears first, and I wait, poised, for Liam.

One … Two
…

But he doesn’t appear.

And then something’s grabbing my leg, yanking me under, and I take a quick gulp before the water swallows me again. When I sputter to the surface, I’m laughing and shaking off Liam’s hands, kicking away from him.

“Jerk!” I say, grinning from ear to ear as I try to splash him back.

He swings his hand, and a great big wave of water monsoons toward me.

“HELP! Olivia!” I scream, pleading for assistance as her brother overwhelms me.

She swims closer and skims her hand across the water, cascading the droplets right at Liam’s face.

“HEY!” he sputters, and for a moment he stops splashing me. I take my opportunity to swim closer, grabbing his shoulders and shoving him under before swimming as fast as I can to the ladder on the dock.

Olivia follows, and we make it to the steps in seconds. I get one foot onto the iron before someone’s grabbing me. I turn to yell at Liam, but it’s Olivia.

“Me first! He’ll spare you!” she yanks me off the ladder and I fall backward, trying to squelch the laughter so I can close my mouth and not inhale the lake.

I sputter to the surface and see Olivia, halfway up the ladder, her hand outstretched. I accept it and she yanks me over, and then we’re both scrambling out just as Liam reaches us.

I climb the last couple of rungs and then half fall, half roll across the wooden planks, landing on my back and staring up at the cloudless sky. My chest heaves; my body and hair are soaked. I’m blissfully happy and out of breath.

“You guys cheat,” Liam calls out.

“You’re the one who stealth-dunked me,” I say. “So I had to get a little revenge.”

Liam’s coming up the ladder, so it’s safe enough to go toward the end of the dock and dip my toes in the water without worrying about him popping up below me. I scoot down a few boards, then let my feet dangle below me.

Olivia follows suit, scooting over and leaving enough space between us for Liam.

He drops down between us, tossing his arm around my shoulders and dripping water down my back. “I’m going to get you for that, you know.”

I lean back on my hand, turning to look him in the eyes.

“I’m kind of counting on that,” I say. “But you’ll never win.”

I feel something over my hand and flick a glance down, realizing it’s Olivia’s fingers covering mine. I lean back a tiny bit more and meet her eyes. They’re sparkling with amusement, like she’s trying to convey something.

And then I recognize the mischievous look she’s giving me. I blink twice, as if to say
Yes
, and then sit up again. I stare out at the water, leaning into Liam’s body.

“So, about getting me back,” I say, slowly turning my hand to interlace my fingers with Olivia’s.

“Yeah?”

“Good luck with that.”

Then we yank our arms forward, like a snapped rubber band, and shove him off the end of the dock.

OLIVIA

Monday afternoon, I wander the mall after school, unable to stop thinking about the weekend. Something between Zoey and me has changed, evolved. On Saturday night, after Liam started yawning and stretching and finally went to bed, we sat on opposite twin beds in the basement and talked until two o’clock in the morning before finally drifting off.

I slide my phone out of my pocket and glance at the text icon. Still no reply from Ava. The two of us need to have a
serious
chat, and it’s not something we can do over the lunch table at school.

My hands are sore from a brutal day at gymnastics and my nose kinda hurts from when I missed on the uneven bars and slammed into the ground, but I don’t really feel like going home. So instead I schlep from store to store, laden with bags, waiting for the moment the shopping high kicks in.

I’m at one of the little boutiques that has dark, angsty stuff in the window—graffiti art and face-piercing jewelry and black T-shirts—and I turn the spinning rack to look over the earrings.

I’d never wear this stuff, but it reminds me of Zoey, and suddenly I want to buy her a gift. I want to hand her something and see her eyes light up, and I want her to know that I thought of her.

My eyes rove the rack, taking in the earrings that resemble pearls—except they’re iridescent black. They’re perfect.

I grab them off the shelf and check the price: twenty-eight dollars. Just right for a random, no-occasion gift. I take them to the front register but there’s no cashier there.

“I’ll be there in just a moment,” a voice calls out.

I nod and study the items in the case in front of me.

Temporary tattoos. Except these look fancier than the sort I used to put on as a little kid. In place of the colorful cartoon characters, most of these are plain black and resemble real tattoos, with great details and shading.

“Sorry about that,” the cashier says. “Just these earrings?”

I shake my head. “No, uh, I’ll take two of those, too.” I point to a tattoo in the corner of the case.

“Alrighty,” the girl says, sliding two of the five dollar tattoos out and adding it to my total. “That’ll be $41.42.”

I hand her my plastic, and a moment later I’m carrying the little bag out of the shop.

I get my phone out and text Zoey, grinning the whole time.

That night I wait in my car outside of Burgerville, watching the green digits on the dash march toward ten thirty. I know I should be tired by now, but I’m totally tuned up instead.

Inside the restaurant, lights flick off and the place falls into darkness. A moment later, the door swings open. Zoey turns back to lock up, and then she glances my way, her lips curling into a smile.

Even though she can’t see me, I find myself grinning back. When she gets closer, I climb out of the car and walk around the vehicle to open the door, gesturing grandly to the passenger seat.

“Your chariot awaits,” I say, bowing.

“I had no idea you were such a cheeseball,” she says.

“Maybe I’ve been watching Reese Witherspoon movies all evening,” I reply. It’s not true, but I did catch the end of
Legally Blonde
while I waited for it to be late enough to pick her up. Liam wasn’t home yet—I don’t know why—and I needed something to fill the silence.

I close the door behind her and then go back around to my seat. I’m beside her an instant later. My heart is doing crazy things in my chest, ping-ponging around like I took speed or something.

The car hums quietly but I don’t put it in gear. Instead, I dig into my purse and produce a tiny gift bag. “Uh, so I kind of bought you something today.”

“It’s not my birthday or anything,” she says, eyeballing the bag. “I don’t turn eighteen till spring.”

“I know, and it’s not like I planned to get you anything, I was just at the mall and I saw this and I thought of you. So here.” I thrust it as her, and the ribbon handle flies up so fast she flinches.

Zoey looks me in the eyes, questioningly, as she takes the bag and sets it on her lap. “Okay. Um, thank you.”

“You’re supposed to open it now,” I say.

“Oh.” She slowly reaches into the bag, and when she pulls her hand back out, the little card, with earrings, is pinched between her fingers.

“Oh my god, these are amazing,” she says in a gasping sort of way. “But I can’t accept jewelry—”

“It’s just costume jewelry, nothing fancy,” I say. “They reminded me of you, and you’re not allowed to give them back because I already threw away the receipt. And they’re not my style. So there.”

When Zoey looks up at me, her eyes are shining in the yellow glow created by the streetlamps. “Wow. This might be the nicest thing anyone’s done for me in a long time.”

“There’s something else in there,” I say, reaching for the bag. I slip my hand into it and find the tattoo, then pull it out and show it to her.

“Wow, that’s cool,” she says, taking the tattoo and holding it up in the lamp light. It’s a funky, scribbly heart, just an outline in all black like a real tattoo.

“I kind of got one too,” I say, pulling my sleeve back and showing her the underside of my wrist.

She stares at it for a long moment and then looks up at me. There are so many things in her eyes, I don’t know what she’s going to say next.

But she doesn’t say anything at all.

She leans over and kisses me, just the barest brush of her lips against my cheek. “Thank you,” she says.

And then she goes to lean back again, and I don’t want the space between us. I reach over, cupping the back of her neck with my hand, and turn her face to mine.