Searching for Beautiful (21 page)

My eyes dart to Christian, silently begging him not to say anything. To keep my secret even though I know to him, it makes me weak. If he couldn’t do something, he’d admit it.

“Yeah. Brynn is pretty awesome,” is his reply. He doesn’t say my pottery. He says me. My heart gives a little extra jump.

Christian pushes to his feet. “Thanks for having me for dinner, but I’d better go. My mom will be home in a little while and I have a few things I’m supposed to do for her.”

Dad stands, so I follow after the two of them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you,” Dad tells him.

“It’s no problem.”

I feel Christian’s eyes on me. Feel him telling me to say something about us going out sometime. I have no idea how he knows. Maybe it’s just a dating thing, something girls should automatically do when a boy meets their parents.

You and Christian aren’t going out. You’re only friends.

“Dad?” I say.

“Yeah,
dolcezza
?”

“Christian asked me to hang out this weekend…just as friends. It’s not like a
date
date or anything.”
Obviously, since I almost lost it when he tried to kiss me.

“Oh,” is Dad’s reply.

“There’s a coffeehouse in Brighton. It’s about an hour away, but it’s pretty cool. They have open mic and some really good musicians play there.” Christian smirks at me. “Since you like the guitar so much, I thought you might want to go.”

I roll my eyes. “
I
like the guitar so much?”

“Yeah. You planned a fake attack so you could steal it, and today you tried to play it.”

“What? A fake what?” Dad jumps in and Christian and I both laugh. Dad looks upset at first, but then he joins in, too. It’s crazy because he has no idea why we’re laughing, but he’s right along with us. I think it might be the first time I’ve laughed with him since before Mom died. It makes me light, almost like I’m floating.

When the laughing dies down, Dad sighs. I see the war waging inside him, but finally he says, “Yeah. Of course you guys can hang out. You don’t mind if I get your cell number from you, Christian?”

He shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”

“Good.” Dad nods. “That’s good.”

I can see that he’s still nervous when I say, “I’m going to walk Christian out. I’ll be right back.”

When we get to the front door, I close it behind us. “Thanks for that. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. All I did was let you feed me pizza.”

“I’m sorry about the freak-out…with the…you know.”
Kiss! It’s a kiss, Brynn. You can say it!

“It wasn’t a freak-out. All you did was say no.”

In that moment, I wonder if there is another boy in the world as amazing as Christian Medina. Maybe it was being raised for so many years by two women and with only a sister. All I do know is he’s incredible, and I wish I could be as together as he is.

“So, we’re going out as friends, huh?”

I nod, embarrassed to look at him. “For now,” I add at the last second, because if I can get my head straight—if I can mend my heart—I don’t think there’s another boy I’d rather date than Christian.

As Christian walks by me, his hand brushes mine slowly. And I let him. Savor him. I don’t go back inside until his door closes.

When I do, Dad’s sitting on the couch. The urge to just walk upstairs is there. Not that I want to, but it’s just habit now. We don’t spend time together like we used to, but I stop myself.

“Thanks, Dad. For understanding. For letting me hang out with Christian.”

Tears pool in his eyes when he says, “I love you, Brynn. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I’m trying.”

“I know,” I tell him. And really, I do.

…

“Jason, you’re going too fast. Please slow down.”

“Come on, you trust me, baby, don’t you? You know I love you. I won’t let anything happen to you.” He smiles at me and I feel it. Feel like he will protect me and like he loves me.

“I know. I love you, too.”

“That’s my girl.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he pushes harder on the gas pedal. The car goes faster and faster as we take turn after turn. Tires screech. Jason laughs as my right hand grips the door.

“Jason, I’m scared.”

“I thought you trusted me. You said you trusted me. No one in my life trusts me. I thought you were different.”

Another fast curve. “I am! I’m different. You know I believe in you.”

“Prove it,” he says as he goes faster. I bite my tongue to keep quiet. Not to ask him to slow down. The bitter taste of blood fills my mouth, but I tough it out. Tough it out for Jason.

He looks at me and smiles and that’s when I feel the love from him. Then his door opens. He’s laughing as he jumps out of the car and I slam into a tree.

Just like that, I’m awake. It’s been so long since I had a dream like that. My heart races, and I feel like I could throw up.

Things with Jason had been bad, but not that bad. He didn’t take my feelings into consideration. He used my need for acceptance against me. I see that now, but he wasn’t the cruel, vicious man he is in my dreams.

But he could have been. One day, he could have been, and I don’t know that I would have tried to stop him. That’s what scares me the most. I’m sure Max wasn’t mean to Emery at first, either.

Pushing into my slippers, I grab my phone and go downstairs. It’s silly and ridiculous. It’s two in the morning, but I trust Brenda and know she won’t mind my text.

I need to talk.

I’ll be right there, mija.

“I’m sorry,” I say as soon as she steps outside.

“No reason to be.” Brenda grabs the chair off the porch and brings it to the fence. I do the same with one of ours and we stand there, on either side of the fence looking at each other.

“I had a dream…about Jason. He’s my ex-boyfriend. He lied to me.” My words are just the tip of the iceberg, and I have a feeling she knows that.

“I’m sorry. I know how hard that can be. How hard all relationships can be. Even for adults, we struggle with them. It’s even tougher for people your age.”

We’re both quiet for a minute. I’m not surprised when she opens her mouth and says the real reason I called her out here tonight. The reason I’m scared. “You’re going out with Christian today.”

I nod. “I like him and I’m scared to. I don’t want to like another boy ever again.” Tears start their descent down my face, picking up speed and going faster and faster.

“Come here,
mija.”
She holds her arms out to me over the fence and I fall into them. Let her hug me the way Mom would have.

“I miss my mom so much,” I say into Brenda’s neck as I cry harder. She shushes me as she strokes my hair and hugs me. When she pulls away, I want to cry harder, but realize she’s climbing over the fence. Christian’s mother is climbing over my fence and then I
do
cry harder, happy tears mixed with sad ones because it makes my heart feel good to have her.

She wraps an arm around me and we walk. I’m crying and she’s shushing. She leads me right into my house. Doesn’t freak out that Dad might wonder what the heck she’s doing here. All she’s thinking about is me, and she sits on the couch and I lay my head in her lap and cry more. Cry for the Mom I miss. For the boy I hate. And for the boy next door. The first boy I danced with. The boy who called me beautiful. The one I’m scared to love.

When my eyes won’t cry any more tears, I let them close. Brenda doesn’t stop touching my hair. She doesn’t get up to leave. Just lets me lie there.

“He wasn’t always bad,” I say, not sure why I feel the need to say anything good about Jason. It’s true, though. If he had been horrible from the beginning, I probably never would have fallen for him.

“I’m sure he wasn’t.”

I pause before saying, “He picked me flowers sometimes. And he made me a playlist full of my favorite songs and another one of songs that reminded him of me.” We laughed sometimes, too. I’ll never know if any of those moments were genuine, but they’d felt that way to me.

“I miss my mom,” I tell her again.

“I know you do, sweet girl.”

Right before I fall asleep, I say, “You remind me of her.” Then I let my world go black.

…

“Brynn?” The sound of my dad’s voice jerks me out of sleep. I’m still on the couch. Still with my head in Brenda’s lap as she sleeps with her head against the back of the couch.

“Dad…I…” Freaked out. Lost it.

“
Hola
.” Brenda stirs. I sit up and she stands and holds out her hand. “I’m Brenda. Christian’s mom. I wondered if we could have a moment alone in the kitchen.”

I’m not even scared of what she’ll say. I trust her. I know she’ll say it better than I would.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Now

“You’ll call me if anything goes wrong, right?”

“Yes, Dad,” I tell him for the millionth time.

“If you don’t want to go, you can change your mind.”

“I know.” How do I tell him I’m tired of changing my mind? That I
need
to find a way to do this. It’s just Christian. It’s just a coffeehouse. It’s not a big deal.

“Brenda said… Is that the first dream about Jason that you’ve had, Brynn?” His voice is low.

I think about lying. Almost do, but stop myself. “No. But they’ve been less lately.” Even though it’s the truth, a bit of guilt still weighs me down, since it’s not the whole truth. Dad’s being cool. He’s letting me go out with Christian. I don’t want to jeopardize the progress we made by telling him about talking to Jason. I don’t even want to think about how he would react.

He closes his eyes and I know it’s because he’s hurting. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Because I can’t. Because you don’t believe me. You’ve never said you believe me.
“It’s…hard.”

Tell me I can. Tell me you want me to. Tell me you believe me. That you just trust in me like she would have.

But he doesn’t. And the doorbell rings. “I’ll call you later, okay?” I tell him. It’s silly that Christian insisted on coming over to get me, but kind of sweet, too.

Dad hugs me. “Have fun and be careful.”

I tell him I will, and then I take a few deep breaths before going to see Christian.

…

“Gummy bear?” Christian asks as we drive down the freeway. Even though he’s been back for months and I’ve seen him eat a hundred bags of them, it still sounds so odd.

“Sure.” I smile at him and wonder if it’s the first one I’ve given him since I’ve been in the car. It’s shame if it is. I made a vow this morning. As I remembered all those tears I shed with Brenda and how I let her hold me, I promised myself I wouldn’t ruin this day. That I’d have fun and nothing would change that. Not even Jason.

This day will be the best.

“How’d you find this place?” I ask as we drive.

“I’ve played there before. Went for coffee, saw the stage, and there you go.”

“Are you playing today?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Nah. I wouldn’t want to do that to you.”

“Do what?”

“I know you just want to be friends. We’re almost on a date. If I play for you in that kind of environment, you’ll have no choice but to fall for me.”

“Ha! Whatever!” I smack his arm. What he doesn’t know is it would take less than that to make me fall for him.

The hour goes by quickly. We talk about classes, homework, parents, the upcoming dance at school. My heart trembles when that topic comes up because dances are so closely tied to Mom. How important they are to me, and embarrassingly, what is often expected after them. But the subject drops quickly and before I know it we’re pulling into the parking lot of a cute little coffeehouse. It looks like it belongs in Seattle or New York. Like a place that’s dark inside where people have poetry nights. I’ve never been somewhere like this. I feel jittery excitement at the thought of being here with Christian.

We head inside and I’m even more impressed. It’s not like the chain coffee shops you go into. The furniture is old and mismatched and the little round tables slightly dinged. The stage is small. There’s a patch on the curtain, but it doesn’t look old. The place has charm. It definitely reminds me of somewhere Christian would spend time.

“I love it,” I say.

“Yeah? I thought so. I have pretty good taste, ya know.”

We go to the counter and I order a vanilla latte. Christian gets a regular coffee. “Who comes to a coffeehouse and gets regular coffee?” I ask him.

His forehead crinkles as he looks at me. “I’m thinking a lot of people, Bryntastic.”

“No one I know.”

“You know me.”

My stomach bubbles. “I do.”

We get our drinks and sit at a small table in the corner. There’s a guy on stage with his guitar on his knee, singing. He has a good voice, but not nearly as good as Christian’s. We drink our coffees and listen to the music. After a few songs the guy leaves the stage and a girl with dreadlocks comes on, carrying a guitar and a harmonica.

She’s incredible. I watch Christian lose himself in her as she plays and sings. He studies her. Watches her fingers move. I have a feeling if I were to talk to him, he wouldn’t hear me. And that’s okay. I like seeing him like this. When she takes a break, I tell him, “I used to get like that with my pottery, too. So totally lost in it that I didn’t notice anything going on around me.”

“Sorry. I didn’t realize I was spacing out.” Our table is next to a wall, and Christian leans against it. There aren’t too many people here and they aren’t paying any attention to us. Most of them have their eyes on the stage, waiting for the girl to play again.

“Music was big in helping me deal with shit. It’s almost like it transports me to another world, ya know?” he says. His voice is low, so no one else hears, but loud enough for me.

“Yeah. I get it.” And according to him, he found it because of me.

“That’s why I think you need to get pottery back.”

“I know.” I try to take a sip of my coffee and realize it’s empty.