Rain 01 When It Rains (8 page)

A
COUPLE
DAYS
LATER
, I decide it’s time to give Beau a call and see how things are going. He’s been at school for almost a whole week and has tried to call me every day, but I haven’t answered. We’ve texted back and forth a few times, but I miss hearing his voice. I think I’m ready to do it without falling apart.

The phone barely rings once before he picks up. “Hello.”

Okay, I was wrong, hearing his voice makes me want to cry again.

“Hey,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut in an attempt to control my defiant emotions.

“It took you long enough to call me back,” he says in his teasing tone. It’s almost as if he knows I need him to lighten the mood. Sometimes I think he knows me better than I know myself.

“Sorry, I’ve been busy at the diner. I miss you, though.”

The breath he inhales is so loud that I can hear it through the phone. “Kate, are you sure you don’t want me to come home this weekend? I’m done with class at noon tomorrow, so I can be there by supper.” There’s hope in his voice, but I’m about the let him down again.

“Don’t. I have to work all weekend anyway. Besides, I’m sure you have a party or two you can go to instead,” I say, trying to talk him out of it without saying no.

“Kate—”

“Please, Beau. I need you to do this for me. Meet new people and enjoy the experience,” I plead. I want him to have the things I can’t right now, even if it means I have to give up the one person besides my mom who means something to me.

“Next weekend, I’m coming home, and you’re not allowed to argue with me about it,” he says, sounding serious and a little father-like. I may be wounded, but I can take care of myself.

“So, what have you been up to, college boy?” I ask, resting my head on my pillow.

“Are you changing the subject on me?” His voice is a mixture of amusement and frustration.

“Beau, please.”

“Fine,” he sighs. “I’ve been going to class, hitting the gym, studying, eating and sleeping. Nothing much more exciting than what you’ve been doing, I’m sure.”

He’s right. I’ve been working, running, and sitting alone in my bedroom.

And, every now and then, my mind wanders away from Beau and veers toward Asher. I barely know him, and I haven’t seen him since he left the note on the napkin, but I can’t help but wonder what he’s all about.

“How are your classes?”

“They’re not hard, but I had two papers assigned to me already this week. You know how much I fucking hate writing papers,” he replies.

“Yeah, but you’re good at it. I think you just hate them because they’re too easy for you,” I say, smiling slightly. Beau was one of the smartest kids in our class. He hasn’t decided what he wants to be when he “grows up,” but he can really do anything he wants.

“I guess I am,” he says. If I’m not mistaken, I think I can sense a smile in the tone of his voice. “Look, Kate, I hate to cut this short, but I have a class I need to get to. I’ll talk to you again tomorrow.” The last part sounds like more of a question than a statement.

“I work until two, but I’ll answer if you call me any time after that.”

Talking to Beau actually makes me feel better, rather than sad. I’m looking forward to talking to him again. I’m hoping that with each day, and each phone call, the distance between us will get a little easier to handle. Maybe I can make it without him here.

“You better.”

“Bye, Beau.”

“Bye, Kate.”

Since I have the whole day off, I’m going to run until my legs give out on me. I pull on a pair of gym shorts and a tank top before lacing up my tennis shoes. It’s the one thing I still like to do. It’s a way for me to clear my mind and let go of some of the pent up anger and stress that has taken residence in my body.

I close the front door and stand on the porch of our small one story house, stretching my legs and arms. Fall will be here soon, and the humidity has already started to dissipate, leaving a tolerable warm September day. Our small town has a few biking trails that are nice for running, but I choose to stay close to the busy streets. There are always lots of people and cars around—the only way I really feel safe.

I take off, letting my feet hit the pavement as I take in the sights and sounds, allowing all my thoughts to come to the forefront. My feet may be moving, but I’m still in the same place, trying to figure out what the future holds for Kate Alexander. I think about my mom and how she had me when she was about my age. I couldn’t imagine having a child right now. I think about my dad and what he would have been like. My mom says she only dated him for a couple months, and that he had quite the wild streak.

I think about all the things that have happened in my life, good and bad, but in the end I always end up focusing on the worst. I don’t know why I continue to do this to myself. I let it all play out in my head over and over until my legs can no longer carry me. Maybe I’m hoping that if I think about it enough, I won’t be able to think of it at all. I know that’s not going to happen, but that doesn’t mean I have to stop wishing for it.

I always run the same path, but today for some reason, I find myself detouring down Mr. McNally’s street. I know I’m just curiously looking for a glimpse of Asher or his life, but I can’t stop myself. Whenever there’s a puzzle, I want all of the pieces so that I can put it together. Whenever there’s a mystery, I want to solve it. It’s the main reason I wanted to study law.

Asher is a puzzle to me. Why is he in Carrington? Why does he look at me like he knows me when I’ve never seen him before? I want to know it all, and I have no idea why. I haven’t cared about much of anything in two years. He’s different than other guys in Carrington. He has this confident yet mysterious thing about him that I can’t stop thinking about. I feel like he wants to know me, but not like he’s judging me. He’s not comparing me to anything that I used to be.

McNally’s house is quiet, but there’s an old black Mustang in the driveway that was never there before. I slow my pace just a little to get a better look before speeding off toward home.

I’m only a couple blocks away from my house when it starts to rain. It takes only seconds before my muscles tense and I start to feel dizzy. My legs are so tired, but I push myself as hard as I can to escape the weather. Whenever it rains, it all comes rushing back to me. Every single second of what happened that night flashes through my mind. I can see Drew. I remember the sharp pain he caused inside me, and the rough feel of his light stubble on my face.

My jaw and hands start to tingle by the time I finally reach my front door and run inside. I don’t bother taking off my shoes. I go straight to my room and turn the radio on so that it’s loud enough to mask the sound of the rain on my window. I lie in bed and let tears fall down my face, soaking my pillow until I can’t cry anymore. It should never be okay for someone to spend more time crying than they do smiling.

I remain in my room, listening to music for the remainder of the day, only getting up to take a shower and grab a sandwich from the kitchen. Having a day off work gives me too much time to think and I find myself actually looking forward to tomorrow.

I’m just finishing up with Ms. Carter when the door opens and Asher walks in. I stop wiping off the table and stand up straight, waiting to see what he’s going to do next. He’s wearing grey shorts and a black t-shirt that just grazes the top of his shorts and his blonde hair is as unruly as the first day I saw him. But today, he doesn’t look confident or sad; he looks unsure as he stands with his hands in his pockets.

He slowly walks toward me, a small smile playing on his lips. I have no idea what he’s going to do and it both excites me and scares me.

He stops two feet in front of me. “You look surprised to see me,” he says to me confidently.

I can’t take the eye contact anymore. It’s making me feel crazy things that I haven’t felt in forever. “No. I mean, I thought maybe you left town. It only takes a couple hours to see all this place has to offer.”

He laughs, leaning in close so I can feel his breath on my ear. “I saw you run by my house yesterday,” he whispers. I instantly jump back out of fear. I hate when people get that close to me. The only two people who I allow to touch me are my mom and Beau. I quickly look around the room to make sure no one has seen us, but we’re the only two people in the dining room. His eyes follow mine before they meet again. I can’t get his amused expression out of my head.

I take a deep breath to regain my composure. “I run every day,” I reply, shrugging my shoulders.

“Did you like my car? You seemed to be admiring it,” he says, running his teeth over his bottom lip. I’m drawn to them, but I quickly refocus my eyes on his.

“I’ve never seen a car like that up close before. It’s very nice,” I say, trying to suppress the warmth I feel on my cheeks.

“It’s a 1967 Mustang, fully restored.” He smiles. “I worked on it for two years to get it looking that good.”

We’re both still, locked in some sort of crazy awkward staring contest. I’m waiting for him to say something because I struggle with this social stuff. He obviously doesn’t, so I try to leave the ball in his court until I can’t take it anymore.

“So, do you want a table?” I finally ask, breaking the uneasy silence.

He smiles. “Yes, it’s been a couple days since I’ve had a milkshake.”

“We’re open every day you know,” I tease.

He looks away before speaking. “I had some stuff I had to take care of. You can’t have milkshakes every day.” His words are ice cold, and I want to know why, but I quickly drop the subject.

“Well, have a seat and I’ll grab one for you,” I say, walking toward the kitchen. I don’t look back at him, but I can feel his eyes on me. I rest my palms against the counter and close my eyes. I need to get a grip and leave the guy alone. I’m in no shape to take him on as my project, and he sure as hell isn’t ready to deal with all my baggage.

I take my time making his shake before heading back out to the dining room. He’s sitting in one of the booths with both arms resting across the back of the bench, eyes fixated on the cars that go by on the street. “Here you go. Do you want anything to eat?”

He glances up at me before leaning forward to twirl his straw in his shake. “Just an order of French fries, please.”

I nod, quickly heading toward the kitchen again. His personality feels so hot and cold—it makes me crazy!

We don’t say anything to each other when I bring out his fries, but I notice how he dips them in his shake, and it makes me smile. There’s no better combination than salty and sweet; I know, because I do the same thing.

When he’s done with his fry basket, I bring out his ticket, setting it on the table without saying a word. As I turn toward the kitchen, I feel a large hand grip my forearm.

He must have noticed that I winced because he quickly lets go of me. “I have a question I want to ask you before I go. Would you show me around town sometime? I’m new, and have no idea what there is to do here.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re kidding me, right? You literally start at one end, drive ten or so blocks, and you’re on the other side. There isn’t anything to do.” There’s a little more bite to my voice than what I intend, but I know his game. If he thinks he’s going to trick me into something like hanging out with him, he’s in for a surprise.

He leans back against the booth, smiling up at me. “What do you do for fun?”

I hesitate. This is the moment I admit that I have no life and don’t know the meaning of fun. “I don’t. I work, I run, and that’s it.”

“Well then, I dare you to go to Carrington Days with me tomorrow,” he says, cocking his head to the side.

“You can’t be serious,” I remark. He doesn’t seem like the type of guy who would have any fun at our small town festival.

He shakes his head. “Oh, I’m very serious.”

My mouth goes dry, and the only thing I want to do is run out the door and never look back. “I don’t date,” I blurt, immediately regretting the way it came out.

He gives me a better view of his straight white teeth. Maybe he likes to see me squirm, or maybe he likes the challenge. “I’m not asking you for a date. I’m daring you to . . . be my tour guide at Carrington Days.”

“Why are you daring me?” I wonder if this is how he always gets girls to do what he wants. He may think he knows me, but he still hasn’t figured out that I’m not like other girls.

“You seem like the type of girl who doesn’t back down from a challenge,” he says, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. “Are you going or not?”

“I work tomorrow.” He needs to let this go. There are lots of other girls out there that would love to show him around Carrington Days. Why me?

“So, I’ll pick you up at three?” he asks, throwing money on top of his bill. He isn’t looking at me, but I can’t take my eyes off of him. He’s got to be the cockiest guy I’ve ever met.

“How do you know what time I get off?” Has he been following me? Has he been asking other people about me? If he has, I don’t want to know the stories he’s been told.