I let him fill my personal space and invade my senses before I close my eyes. “I don’t think that’s true.”
“Then you’re in denial, Little Bird.”
“Please stop calling me that.”
“Stop pretending like you still hate it.”
Silence.
He stands up and flattens his shirt, gripping the edge of the door. “Meet me in my trailer tomorrow. We’ll talk more. I’m not giving you a chance to say no either. We both need this.”
“Closure?”
The infamous smirk appears on his face, leaving me wishing I did have a rock to throw at him. “The company.”
I’m about to tell him that I can find better company than him, but he makes sure all my limbs are out of the way before closing the door. Staring at him through the glass, he shoots me a wink before turning around and walking away.
“What am I doing?” I whisper.
Chapter Twelve
Kinley / 16
Biting down onto my thumbnail, I watch as the little white numbers in the bottom righthand corner of my laptop change. Eyes drifting to my inbox, I begin tapping my foot on the floor waiting for a new email to come through. The clock could be fast on my computer.
Noon.
12:01
12:05
12:09
A pillow smacks me in the face, and my laptop nearly topples from where it’s perched on my legs. Glaring at Gavin standing by the chair in the corner of my room, I put my laptop safely on my nightstand.
“Do you mind?”
“Your moping is annoying,” he informs me, jabbing his thumb backwards. “Let’s go get pizza. I’ll even let you pay.”
I blink.
He grins. “Come on, dickwad. I’m just messing with you. Although, feel free to pay. My milk check this week wasn’t as much as I thought it’d be. You’ll just have to live without your crack for now.”
Rolling my eyes, I glance at the screen before sighing and closing my computer. “Fine, but you’re definitely paying. And you’re buying me Twizzlers because it’s your fault I’m addicted to them in the first place.”
He cackles and backs up. “Do you remember when I hit you with one during a road trip and you bruised?”
I throw the pillow back at him, but he catches it. “That hurt! Candy shouldn’t be used as weapons.”
“It was funny,” the idiot says.
I get up and grab a hoodie before we walk downstairs. When Gavin grabs his truck keys, I slap them out of his hand. He complains when I inform him we’re walking, since the gas station is right down the street.
We walk side by side, his broad frame taking up too much of the sidewalk and forcing me to walk partially on the grass along the road. He’s taller and leaner than Dad and likes to show off the biceps he’s gotten from doing so much physical labor on the farm.
His shoulder bumps mine. “What were you obsessing over?”
Heat creeps into my cheeks. “Just a writing contest. It’s stupid. They said the winners would be contacted at noon our time. I thought…”
I try not getting my hopes up when I enter contests. Since winning the first one, I’ve come in third and fourth place in two others. People tell me how much they love my writing samples and stories online. Some even say they can picture me getting published if I expand them into full length novels.
This contest is different though. I’ve been more confident in the story I wrote for it than any other sample I’ve submitted. Maybe it’s because I based it on a silver-eyed boy and his best friend. Subconsciously, I know that it’s stupid to write about something so close to me. The story flowed though—the love between a young Ryker and Beck growing which each story about them I write. It gives me hope. Hope for what, I’m not sure. But the feeling in my stomach when I’m around Corbin inspires me to write a story like ours.
But I jinxed myself by getting cocky after I landed in the final three for the judges to consider. The prize is another publication in a well-known magazine as well as a chance to speak to a literary agent about the process of being represented.
“Anyway, I didn’t win.”
Normally he’d make a sarcastic comment that would make me want to push him in front of a car, but instead he nods. “There are other contests, Kin. I know it sucks, but you’ll win another one.”
I told the entire family about the first competition I won over dinner one night. The conversation had lulled after talking about Gavin getting another calf from an auction he and our uncle went to, so I thought it was a good segue into letting them in on my good news.
Dad said, “Congratulations.”
Mom said, “That’s cool.”
Gavin smiled at me from across the table.
The pride I’d felt for getting the story put into a magazine had dwindled by their lack of excitement. I try not to think about it, especially when Corbin tells me that my feelings are all that matter, but I care about what my family thinks. It’s a fatal flaw.
I should have known that Gavin smiling was more than just an obligatory response. He doesn’t tell me he’s proud with words. It’s in the way he smiles.
“You’re right,” I finally reply.
The gas station comes into view.
Gavin says, “Surprised you’re not with your little boyfriend. You two spend a lot of time together.”
Side-eyeing him, I notice his lips are pressed in a firm line. “Is that your way of trying to confirm we’re dating?”
He eyes me skeptically. “Are you?”
I smile. “Corbin is my best friend. He isn’t like anyone else at school. He has dreams that are a lot like mine.”
“To write?”
“Act.”
Gavin grunts. “Is he in drama club?”
Gavin and his friends used to make fun of drama club and the productions we’d sometimes be forced to watch during the school day. I get that the school wants to boost curiosity and get us to beg our families to come buy tickets and see the whole thing, but it never worked on my family. Mom and Dad both have busy jobs that make it difficult to do things after they get home.
“He’ll be in the winter play,” I confirm, not going into detail about what his role is. Thankfully the school isn’t doing Grease again, but Newsies which is one of my favorites.
Gavin doesn’t say anything, probably holding back the remark that’s resting at the tip of his tongue.
“He got an acting coach,” I blurt. When Corbin showed up at my house last week, I’d had a facemask on while sporting my ugliest pajamas ever. The shirt had a couple holes in it, the pants were baggy and unflattering, and the mask made my entire face green and hard to move.
After he finished laughing at me, he informed me that the classes he’d been going to for the past month got him noticed by one of the newer coaches. The guy was interested in meeting up with Corbin to talk about what he wanted to do with his life, so him and his mom spent an entire afternoon going over the details about what to expect if they had an agreement.
“What does that mean?” Gavin finally asks, holding his arm out in front of me as a car speeds by us at the intersection.
Pushing his arm down, I shrug. “It just means that he’s finally doing something about becoming an actor. You know, learning the trade and stuff.”