Chapter One
This isn’t the first time I’ve stared at this letter, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. Ever since it came in the mail a week ago, I’ve been weirdly obsessed with it. Pouring over its words again and again, looking for a way that I could’ve misinterpreted its meaning. But it’s so clear. My mother, Katrina Morgan… well, now Katrina Sulley… has completely moved on from me. And I mean, okay. I could understand that. She left my dad and I a long time ago, so of course she would want to move on. It hurts a little, but it’s normal.
But finding out that I have siblings she doesn’t want me to meet… ouch. I’m lying in my bed, my eyes skimming the letter for the thousandth time, but I just can’t find another interpretation. I made the choice not to go to college. I made the choice to pursue a life as a car flipper instead. It’s already been fairly lucrative, and I’m hoping to start my own little business doing it someday. But my choice to not go school is the reason why I can’t see my siblings. Apparently, my mom is worried that I’ll be a bad influence on them. Translation: My mom is ashamed of me and doesn’t want my little brother or sister to know anything about me.
The letter was addressed to my dad. I was never supposed to see it. Ironic, considering I’m the one who did see it, and I don’t ever plan on showing my dad. He’d be livid if he knew, and I wouldn’t blame him. Honestly, I don’t even know how to feel about it. I’m a little bit angry, a little bit annoyed, and a lot a bit hurt. The first time I read it, I cried. Broke down. I mean, it’s not like I had much of a relationship with my mom. Aside from the occasional birthday card with a few bucks in it, we haven’t spoken in years. But this? God, it hurts.
My eyes check the clock on my nightstand, and I see it’s just after one in the morning. I groan as I open my nightstand drawer and toss the letter in, telling myself I’m not going to read it again when I know I’m probably going to tomorrow night. Ever since it came in the mail, as a response to my dad sending her an invitation to my graduation, where he also must’ve told her about my life and the choices I’ve made for my own future, I haven’t been able to sleep well. I keep trying to tell myself it’s her loss. I’m her loss. And then I try to play devil’s advocate and convince myself that what she meant was something totally different than what she actually said. Then I read it again, and find that, no, in fact, what she said is exactly what she meant. Which leaves me pissed off and hurt all over again.
“You know what?” I tell myself as I punch my pillow in an angry attempt to fluff it up before I slam my head back against it. “She can fuck off. I don’t need her. I’ve lived without her this long. Just forget it, Vale. Forget it and go to sleep.” I roll over in my bed and squeeze my eyes shut tight, but… surprise of the century… I can’t sleep. All I can think about is that damn letter sitting in my nightstand drawer.
After trying for half an hour, I finally sigh in frustration and get back out of bed. Then I slide on a pair of jeans and an old white t-shirt before quietly sneaking downstairs so as not to wake my dad. I slip my shoes on and make my way to the garage. If I’m not going to sleep, then I’m going to make myself useful and work on my truck. I open the door to the garage, lift the hood of the truck, and start trying to examine it to see what it needs. I’m so tired that I’m not sure I’ll be able to figure it out tonight, but I’m definitely going to try.
A few minutes go by, and I find that the problems with my mom begin to drift away with the turn of my wrench. This is my peaceful zone. The place where I can distract myself from all the loud shit going on in my head. I’m not good enough for my mom. I’m making a mistake by not going to college. I’m totally fucking up my stupid life. All those thoughts shut up as I bury my head in the hood of this truck, and finally, I feel like I’m at peace.
And just as I’m about to call it a night, I feel a vibration on my wrist. My eyes look down, and I see the light on my bracelet is on. Immediately, my heart, which was finally calming down, kicks right back into overdrive. I stare at the bracelet for a few moments before I set my wrench down and press down on the button before diving back into the engine of my truck. But I can hardly concentrate, because I know that Gen will be here any second. This is what she always does. She taps on the bracelet to make sure I’m awake, and when I reply, she comes over, usually bringing some kind of treats with her. Like she has to bribe me to stay up and talk with her. Which is definitely not the case.
Gen has been my best friend since… well, honestly, I can’t remember a time when she wasn’t my best friend. She always just comes over to my house in the middle of the night, often times staying the night with me when she has a problem sleeping herself. Which is all the time, because she has crazy insomnia. Not that I’m complaining. The only time I can sleep is when I’m sleeping with her. Honestly, the only reason why I got her the bracelet was because she tried to sneak into my bedroom one night when I was… ahem… indisposed. And even though I’ve had a million fantasies involving that scenario, I figured the real-life version of her catching me while I was having some alone time would probably be way more embarrassing than what stupid dreams could conjure up. So I bought her the bracelet as a way of asking me if I’m awake (ahem) before she comes over. It’s worked out so far.
Five minutes later, I hear the sound of her slippers on the concrete behind me, and I feel my heartbeat double instantaneously. I have no idea how she does it, but she somehow manages to turn me into a puddle every time she’s around me. Which is amazing, because she spends almost every second with me. Not that I would have it any other way. Every moment with her is like a gift.
“Hey,” she calls as I turn around and give her a big smile, trying to hide how tired I actually feel.
“Hey yourself, Genny,” I reply. And then I look at her hands and see she’s carrying a Tupperware container. My mouths waters as I say, “Those cinnamon cupcakes you got in that Tupperware container?”
She smiles back at me as she nods her head. “With vanilla buttercream and a cinnamon cookie to top it.” This girl. I lick my lips in excitement, but just as I think about reaching over to grab a cupcake, I realize how dirty my hands are. I lift them up for her to see, and she just shakes her head and rolls her eyes at me before saying, “Fine.” She removes one of the cupcakes, walks toward me, and holds it out for me to take a bite. I sink my teeth down into the sweet cinnamon cupcake before burying myself in the truck again.
Here’s the thing about Gen. Yes, she’s my best friend. Ride or die. Thunder buddy. BFF. But she’s so much more to me than that. So much more than she even knows. Because I have had it bad for her since we were kids. And when I say bad, I mean really fucking bad. Like I can’t even think of another girl kind of bad. But I’m too much of a cowardly asshole to ever try anything with her. Because here’s the thing… if I shoot my shot with her, and I miss… God, I don’t even want to think about it. Our friendship would probably be ruined. Forever. And when I say she means more to me than even she knows, I mean it. She’s my rock. The person who helps keep me grounded. And so what if I’m madly in love with her? Nothing, and I mean nothing, is more important than our friendship.
She doesn’t talk, but she doesn’t have to. Just her breathing my air is enough to make me crazy. Sometimes, when I think about how long I’ve wanted her, I’m amazed at my level of self-control. It hasn’t been easy. But whenever I get close to considering making a move, I remind myself what’s at stake. And lately, I remind myself what a fucking loser I am (thanks, mom), and how she deserves much better than some asshole with no plans for his future other than flipping cars and working in his dad’s restaurant.
The thing is, I was fine with these plans before that letter. More than fine with them. They were plans I made on purpose. It wasn’t like I just applied for college but didn’t get in. I didn’t want to go to college. My dad always said that if you do what you love, then you’ll never work a day in your life. And I love working on cars. I love trading people things for parts that I need and getting to know this awesome car community. This is my passion, and being in this garage is where I’m the happiest. Even when the part that I’m trying to remove is so stuck that I can barely turn the wrench to get it out.
But there’s just something about the annoyance of it that makes it fun for me. Because even though it’s difficult, when I do finally manage to get the part unstuck, I feel like a rockstar. But right now? Right now, I’m in the pissed off part of the process. I keep grunting and groaning as I twist the wrench to no avail. Sweat beads on my brow as I lean over and take another bite of one of Gen’s cupcakes, not so much for the taste (even though they’re amazing), but just to remind myself that she’s still here.
“This. Fucking. Piece. Of. Shit!” I yell through gritted teeth as I attempt to turn the wrench again. But a wave of exhaustion hits me hard, and suddenly I can barely keep my eyes open. I press my hands on either side of the truck as I shake my head and ask Gen, “What time is it?”
“Too late to be working on cars,” she replies, and I sigh and nod my head before taking one last bite of the cupcake, slamming the hood shut, and wiping my dirty hands on my jeans. She makes a face that’s a mixture between exasperation and humor. “Why do you wear white when you’re working on cars? You know you’re gonna get dirty.”
I shrug my shoulders. “Maybe I like getting dirty,” I reply, and shit. That came out a little too flirtatiously, and I give off an awkward laugh that she doesn’t seem to notice. In fact, now that I’m paying attention, she looks a bit distracted. I lean against the truck, fold my arms across my chest, and say, “Okay, what’s the deal? Why are you here in the middle of the night?”
She smirks at me, and my pulse quickens in my veins. Everything she does… ugh. “Since when do I need a reason?” she replies, and it almost sounds like she’s flirting too. But it’s not her intention, and I know that.
“Never,” I say. “But I know you. What’s the deal?”
A tight smile forms on her lips, and I know I’ve hit the nail on the head. Something is definitely up with her. “Remember that night a few months ago, when my parents went out of town to meet Ava’s fiancé’s family in Seattle?” she asks, and I nod my head, remembering that night very clearly. I got so stupid drunk that night that I almost spilled the beans to her about how I feel. Ever since that night, I’ve resolved never to drink like that around her again. Can’t take any chances. “And we got drunk playing that Who Framed Roger Rabbit drinking game, and I applied to that program I’d been talking about for a while?” I don’t say anything, but I have a feeling I know where this is going. I can tell by how she’s acting. “I got word today that I’ve been chosen to audition for a spot in the fall semester.”
My jaw falls open, not so much in surprise, but in… I don’t know. Panic? “What?” I gasp, and I can feel my eyes go wide. She winces, and I recover quickly. “Oh my God. Genny! That’s amazing!” I run over to her and wrap her in a big bear hug before swinging her around. Her scent overtakes my senses for a second, and I allow myself a moment of weakness to breathe her in. She giggles, and my stomach does a little flip. “I am so proud of you!” I say as I set her back down on the ground. “Seriously! That’s amazing!”
And yes. It is amazing. Her eyes blink back what looks like tears. “I just… I think I’m in shock. Like, I can’t believe they chose me, you know?”
I roll my eyes at her. Good God, not this again. “Don’t start with that invisible bullshit again.” She gives me a tight-lipped smile, and I sigh and shake my head. I’ll never understand how this girl can think she’s invisible. She’s literally the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever met. She turns heads wherever she goes. I swear, if she was a star in the sky, she’d be the sun. I wish she could see herself through my eyes. “Genny, Genny, Genny. How many times do I have to tell you? You are not invisible. You just need to put yourself out there more. Do your thing. And clearly, I was right, because holy shit! You could seriously get a spot in this amazing program!”
This amazing program that’s who knows how far away from me. It feels like someone has reached into my chest, wrapped their hands around my heart, and started squeezing. Panic begins to envelope me as I realize what her getting into the program will mean. She’ll have to leave. Move out of Coeur d’Alene all the way to Boston. Far, far away from me, her loser best friend whose own mother wants nothing to do with him. But I hide my feelings, because I don’t want to take this moment away from her.
“It’s pretty crazy,” she says to me, and I smile and nod, even though my mind is screaming at me to beg her not to leave. But I would never do that. Could never do that. This is the first step toward her dreams coming true. I would rather suffer in silence than take that away from her. She blinks pretty hard, and a loud yawn escapes her mouth, which leaves the door open for me to ask her the question I’ve been dying to ask her since she stopped by.
“Wanna stay over?” I ask as I reach for a red rag, scrubbing the grease off my fingers. A nervous habit. “We can chill in the basement for a bit and watch a movie? Maybe finish off those cupcakes you brought over?”
I need to be with her. I know she won’t say no, because she never says no when I offer her to stay the night. But tonight is different. There’s a note of urgency in my voice, because I know now that my time with her is probably limited. She will definitely make it into that school. I have no doubt in my mind of that. Which means my days with her are numbered. I have to take full advantage of my time with her while I can.
“That sounds perfect,” she replies, and I smile at her as I toss the dirty rag onto to floor and put my arm over her shoulders, walking with her into the house. I’m exhausted, and I’d hoped that being with her would help me fall asleep. But now that I know she’ll most likely be moving away from me soon, I don’t want to sleep. Every second with her is precious, and I don’t want to waste a single one.
