7 Minutes in Heaven Page 7
Yeah, of course. I’m low key but I’m not a troll.
Just checking. Do you want help getting ready? How long do you have?
Like an hour and a half. I hesitate, wondering whether I should tell her the next thing over text or in person. Makena is touchy about this stuff. She might flip out if I handle it wrong. Can you keep a secret?
He kissed you!
“Holy crap, she’s a witch,” I mutter to myself.
Before I can answer, she’s calling me. Her face pops up bright and happy on my screen.
“Yes,” I confirm solidly. “He kissed me.”
“I knew it!” she practically screams.
I laugh, closing my eyes against the piercing pain in my ear. “You’re going to break my phone yelling like that.”
“I’m going to break your face for telling me over text! This is a face-to-face conversation, Grace.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Forgiven. Now give me details.”
“It was in the driveway. He gave me a hug goodbye that went on for forever and then we were talking about lesbians—"
“Harrington and Gilbert are so friggin’ cute.”
“And then he said I’m a pain and I said I used to bite as a kid and he asked if I still do—”
“Sexy!”
“—and I said there’s only one way to find out, so . . . he kissed me,” I giggle.
“Marry him,” Makena insists staunchly.
I roll my eyes. “I can’t marry him. I’m not even sure I’m dating him.”
“You are. You totally are. The whole school knows it too. I heard some guys in the cafeteria talking about how you’re off the market now.”
“What do they care? No one has shown any interest in me since Mark.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you’re picky and people know it. And you’re kinda jaded.”
“I’m not jaded.”
“You’re a little jaded,” she insists. “Mark ruined you.”
I groan, burrowing down into the couch. “He was just so grabby.”
“I know. He sucks. Everybody knows it now. He hasn’t dated anybody since you either. I think he’s still hung up on you.”
“I think you’re right,” I mutter unhappily. “He texted me last week. Did I tell you that?”
“No! What’d he say?”
“That he misses me.”
“He misses groping you.”
“Right?”
“What’d you tell him?”
“Nothing. I didn’t answer the text. He sent three more saying how pretty I looked. I finally blocked him.”
“Good for you. Ugh, he’s the worst,” she growls. “I don’t feel bad at all for what I did.”
“Wait, what’d you do?”
“I told everyone that you broke up with him because you found gay porn on his phone,” she tells me matter-of-fact.
“Kena!” I cry, shocked. “Why’d you do that?”
“Because he’s an animal, that’s why! You want him pawing at another girl?”
“He probably will. Like, a lot. College is going to be one big Pawfest for him.”
“Yeah, well, festival is closed at Roosevelt.”
“Serves him right,” I mutter.
I think about the times I kissed him, even though I don’t want to. I want to think about Kyle and the amazing way he kisses like he could do it forever, never going forward. Mark was dead set on hitting the finish line as fast as he could. The last time we made out was in his parents’ basement. He put his hand up my shirt in the first two minutes. I let it go, at first, but then he was so rough and forceful . . . I don’t know, I got a bad vibe. I didn’t feel comfortable in that dark, hot, windowless room with him. It felt like everyone else in the world was a hundred miles away and it was just him and me and his hands grabbing at every part of me. It didn’t even feel like he was touching me. I could have been anyone. I could have been a stranger or a blow-up doll for all he cared. The second he reached for the belt on my pants, I bailed. I got out of that basement as fast as I could.
When Kyle kisses me, he’s really kissing me. It feels like he’s kissing all of me at once and I’m hot and overwhelmed and excited in ways Mark only wished I would be.
“Grace?” Makena says impatiently.
I blink into the darkness of the living room. The fire is going. The lamp on the table next to Dad’s chair is on, a steaming mug of coffee cooling next to it. Was that there before? I thought he was asleep. And when did it get so dark?
“Sorry, I . . .” I frown, glancing at the old clock over the fireplace. It’s eleven. But it can’t be. The battery must have died this afternoon. “I spaced out for a second.”
Or slipped through a black hole. Seriously, how is it dark already?
“You were dreaming about Mr. Dreamy,” she teases.
“Yeah,” I laugh nervously, feeling unsure and strangely disoriented. Like I don’t belong in this room anymore, but I can’t understand why. “I guess so.”
“I can’t believe he took you up to the top of the mountain on your first date. That is so baller. It must be those Florida moves. He’s operating at a level way above Jackson boys.”
“He is. Yeah,” I reply slowly, frowning at the mention of the mountain. It feels important somehow.
“Was it beautiful? I bet it was cold.”
“It was but he brought a—” I stop, my words stuck in my throat.
Makena tsks impatiently. “A what?”
“A blanket,” I whisper.
Kyle brought a big, thick blanket with us when he drove me to the ski lodge. He said that my dad had given him a heads up that they were running the lift tonight for night skiing and the entire mountain would be lit up. We rode the lift to the top and stood on a landing in the wind as the chairs cruised slowly by. Skiers came and went but Kyle and I just stood there together, wrapped up in that blanket with his arm around my shoulders, the snow glistening under the spotlights. They made the snow sparkle like diamonds. We could see the whole town lit up, nestled into the hillside below. Our breath fogged in front of our faces. Our noses went numb. His hands warmed mine under the soft fabric of the blanket. When he kissed me, he tasted like peppermint. Like he was planning on kissing me. Like he couldn’t wait, and neither could I.
It was beautiful. It’s a night I’ll never forget for as long as I live, the memory clear as day in my mind because it just happened. He just dropped me off. Just kissed me goodbye.
But I didn’t go. I never left this couch.
“Grace, seriously,” Makena complains. “What is wrong with you? Were you guys drinking tonight?"
“No. Not a drop.”
“You must be drunk on love, then,” she laughs.
“Yeah,” I mutter, not convinced she’s right. I’m not convinced of anything at all except that tonight was amazing. It was perfect.
Even if I’m not entirely sure how, when, or even if it actually happened.
chapter ten
I’ve tried on every outfit in my closet. It’s all crap.
“I don’t know what I’m going to wear,” I complain to Makena on the phone.
“Church clothes.”
“We don’t go to church.”
“You do on Easter and Christmas.”
“I can’t wear my Christmas dress to dinner with Kyle’s parents,” I argue, secretly hoping she’ll push back and tell me that I can.
“No, you’re probably right. It’s barely December. It’s too early for red and green.”
“Dad’s putting up the lights tomorrow.”
Makena laughs over the line. “He’s insane. It’s supposed to basically be a blizzard tomorrow.”
“I know,” I sigh, collapsing on my back on my bed. “The mountain is going to be closed because of it, so the shop can’t open either. He says it’s the perfect day to do it.”
“Is he going to make you help?”
“Of course he is. If I’m not at the shop, I’m helping here at the house. Or I’m a
t practice.”
“Or making out with Kyle in the parking lot between classes,” she teases wickedly.
I flush just thinking about it. “I don’t mind that as much.”
“Obviously. You do it every day.”
“We hardly see each other anymore,” I explain defensively. “He has practice, I have practice, and I have work at the shop almost every weekend. In between classes is the only time we have together anymore.”
“I’m teasing, Grace. Not judging.”
She’s not judging, but she is making a point that’s masquerading as a joke. If Kyle and I hardly see each other, then I never see Makena. When I was dating Mark, it was during the spring. I didn’t have practice. Dad didn’t need me at the shop. I had plenty of spare time to split between her and Mark, especially when I stopped feeling so infatuated with him and saw him for what he really was—a skeeze. But Kyle is different. I think I see Kyle for who he is, and he is amazing. My parents love him. Ashley likes him. His dad shouts hello to me every time he sees me from across the street or around town. It’s just his mom that hasn’t gotten on board with us dating. I’ve seen her in passing in the three weeks that Kyle and I have been together, but we’ve never actually spoken. It feels weird and on purpose. Like she’s avoiding me.
Kyle says she’s not but I think he’s lying. He doesn’t look me in the eyes when he tries to reassure me.
“How are things with Scott?” I ask, trying to bring Makena back around. I feel like we talk about me and Kyle all the time ‘cause we’re new and exciting (at least for me). It probably wouldn’t hurt to poke around in Makena’s love life for a change.
She groans unhappily. “He just started dating Elizabeth Kaine.”
“What? When?”
“Monday.”
“That’s bull. I thought he was into you. He’s been asking Kyle about you practically every day. He took you to lunch last week!”
“I know. I thought he was into me too but apparently not.”
I close my eyes, shaking my head in frustration. “Kena, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I feel like it is. We heard he liked you through Kyle and I’m dating Kyle, so his bad information is my bad information.”
“I don’t know if it was bad information. I seriously got the vibe that he was interested, but maybe he changed his mind after we hung out alone.”
“Did anything weird happen?”
“Nope,” she replies glumly. “I thought it was good.”
“He’s a jerk.”
“No, he’s not. But thanks for saying it.”
“Of course.” I open my eyes reluctantly. I groan when I see the time. “Sorry, but I’ve gotta go. I’m not dressed yet and I’m supposed to be there in five minutes.”
“Good luck,” she replies buoyantly.
“Thanks. I think I’m gonna need it.”
By the time I make it out the door, I’ve only got a minute to spare. Thank God they live close. Mr. Rixton is in the driveway putting down a layer of salt when I tread carefully up the driveway.
He grins at me, broad and uninhibited like Kyle. He has surprisingly blond hair. He still keeps it military short even though he’s retired. He’s tall and lean, just like Kyle. His eyes are so similar, it’s almost jarring. “Hi, Grace.”
“Hi, Mr. Rixton.”
“Are you looking forward to the weekend?”
I shrug, stuffing my hands deep in my pockets where it’s warm. “Not really. With the storm coming in, all my races are cancelled and there’s not much else to do.”
“Kyle says you’re doing great this year.”
I smile. “Kyle says that but it’s not exactly true. I’m doing okay. I’m not as good as my dad was.”
“That’s a tough standard to live up to.” He stands, stretching his long back. “I heard he was almost an Olympian.”
“He was pretty close, yeah.”
“That’s tough, having a destiny that big and not seeing it happen.” Mr. Rixton glances at the house. “I worry about how Kyle will handle it if his don’t come true.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about that. Kyle is incredible.”
He smiles. “He is. But he’s also seventeen.”
I nod like I understand, but I’m not sure I see what he’s getting at. Maybe it’s because I’m seventeen too.
“You should get inside where it’s warm,” he tells me. “Tell them I’ll be inside in a minute?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks, Grace. Just go on in. They’re expecting you.”
I watch my step over an unsalted portion of the walkway. It feels weird to go in without knocking. I’ve never been inside their house before. I feel like a trespasser.
The first thing I notice when I walk through the modern, black door is how hot it is inside. It’s almost stifling. We keep our house at about seventy degrees, but the Rixtons have theirs at seventy-five, easy. Maybe hotter. I immediately start unbuttoning my coat as I look around the entryway. The layout is pretty similar to our house. The living room is on the left. There’s a fireplace blazing like an open furnace under a thick stone mantle. It’s covered in trophies and photos of Kyle. A stairway almost identical to ours is in front of me. A hallway leading to what’s probably the laundry room is to its right, and on the far side of that is an opening to the dining room. There’s a small, round table with a shining, dark surface but no dishes. No place settings. I wonder if they eat in their kitchen like we do.
“I don’t want to fight about this anymore,” Mrs. Rixton says sharply. Her voice is coming from around the corner of the dining room. Probably the kitchen.
Kyle answers in a deep grumble that’s hard to understand. “I’m not fighting.”
“You’re arguing with me. You’re doing that a lot lately.”
“It’s not her fault. Don’t blame her for this.”
“I’m not blaming her. I’m blaming you. You’re acting out again. Just like with Karina.”
“Jesus, Mom! It has nothing to do with Karina.”
“Everything forever is going to have to do with Karina now. I wish you could understand that. It’s why I got us out of Florida in the first place and now you’re going to screw it up again because you can’t go one year without a girlfriend.” A pan clatters loudly like it was dropped into the sink. “I can’t keep cleaning up your messes.”
“Grace isn’t going to be a mess. She’s not just any other girl, Mom.”
“Please,” she laughs. “She’s just like the last one. Maybe worse.”
“She’s gonna be here any minute. Can we not talk about this right now? Can you just be cool for one night?”
“It’s not my job to be cool, Kyle,” she tells him, her tone softening. “It’s my job to be your mom and tell you when you’re doing stupid stuff.”
“I’m not being stupid with Grace.”
“Not yet. And I’d like to see it stay that way. You don’t need a girlfriend, sweetie. You can date around and not get serious with anyone. You’re a kid. That’s okay to do.”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he says tiredly.
“I know. But we have to.”
“No. We don’t.”
“Kyle, I—”
The door swings open behind me. It stirs up that sweet, citrus smell that’s always on Kyle, and I wonder if it’s his soap after all. Now that I’m noticing it, I think it’s the smell of their house. Candles or air fresheners always spraying it into the air. Onto his clothes.
I suddenly realize with horror that I’m standing in the foyer eavesdropping, my coat only half-off and my face dressed in worry. Mr. Rixton pauses in the doorway when he sees me. Cold air swirls mercifully around my ankles, up over my arms. It’s a welcome relief from the overbearing heat inside the house. But then he closes the door and it’s gone. I’m standing here like a criminal in a strange house with people I barely know at a dinner I’m not so sure I’m actually welcome at.
“Grace is here!” Mr. Rixton calls loudly.
His big, booming voice startles me. I jump, instinctively pulling my coat back on my shoulders.
He smiles down at me, mild and kind. “Can I take that for you, Grace?”
I nod slowly, shrugging out of my jacket again. I feel off kilter. Like I don’t know if I’m coming or going. It feels like I should leave but I hand him my coat anyway, crossing my arms over my stomach as he hangs it up.
Kyle comes through the dining room. He’s in the same clothes he wore to school today. I feel overdressed in my dark jeans, the cashmere sweater I stole from my mom, and more makeup than I’d normally wear on a Friday at five.
Kyle’s face is worried at first, but when he sees me he smiles. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks,” I chuckle nervously. I gesture to Mr. Rixton. “Your dad let me in.”
It’s a stupid detail to lie about but I don’t want to talk about what I overheard.
“Is dinner ready?” Mr. Rixton asks Kyle as he kicks off his boots.
“Almost. Mom is getting the roast out of the oven right now.”
“It smells good. I’m starving.”
“Me too,” I admit meekly, wishing I was stronger. Kyle could do it. He could hear what he heard and keep on kicking, no problem. His confidence can’t be shaken. I admire that about him. Especially now as I stand here nearly shaking with nerves in a house that’s a hundred degrees too hot, about to have dinner with his mom who just got in a throw down fight with him about a dead girl. Who was she? His ex-girlfriend? It sounded like it, but he’s never mentioned her. He’s definitely never said anything about a girlfriend who friggin’ died.
This night that I was already dreading has somehow gotten way worse. I think I’d rather be home eating Mac ‘n Cheese with Ashley and watching a murder mystery marathon.
Mr. Rixton grunts as he stands, nodding to his son. “Kyle, why don’t you and Grace hang out in the living room while I go see if I can help your mom get dinner on the table?”