Chapter Thirteen
Finally noticing the bright light shining on me, I stirred in the comfortable bed I was in. I probably should've opened my eyes, but I was too comfortable to fully wake up. I didn't want to leave the dream I was having of being in someone's strong, warm embrace that made me feel protected. I wanted to continue this lovely dream, remembering the intoxicating scent of the man who made me forget about all the cares in the world. I wanted to hug the person tighter and kiss him senseless, yet something told me I should wake up.
"Ah!" I screamed immediately as my eyes opened. Gage's eyes flew open just as I pushed myself out of his gentle hold, causing me to fall off the bed.
"Damn it," I muttered, rubbing my back. I didn't hear anything from him at first, until he stood over me, laughing. I narrowed my eyes at him. "It's not funny. I didn't know how much you liked to cuddle, Jenson," I teased bitterly.
At that he stopped laughing, shooting me a glare instead. "I do not like to cuddle."
I rolled my eyes, pushing myself off the ground. "Sure you don't. Just remember the position we woke up to and refrain from doing it again, got it?"
He raised his eyebrow in an arrogant way, though his blue eyes flickered with amusement. "Again? Well as much as you loved being in my arms—which was your doing—I can assure you that there won't be anymore chances of that happening," he said smugly.
I glared and crossed my arms across my chest. "I didn't mean it like that. And please, you think I enjoyed that? Think again, Jenson," I snapped.
He rolled his eyes, smirking. "Whatever, I'm getting breakfast."
"Good, take your time," I said, hoping he'd be gone for a while. After he threw on a shirt and left, I let out a breath I was apparently holding. Taking deep breaths to calm myself, I went straight to the bathroom to take a shower.
As I washed my hair and scrubbed Gage's familiar scent off of me, I couldn't help but allow him to plague my thoughts. How could I be so stupid to think I was dreaming? To think that he would be the wonderful, protective man next to me? I knew I should've thought of Captain America before falling asleep.
"Crap," I muttered, noticing I forgot to grab my clothes before taking a shower. Whatever, Gage was at breakfast.
I put on my bra and panties before sifting through my suitcase, unsure of what to wear. When I finally settled on dark skinny jeans, I thought of wearing my favorite Nirvana t-shirt with them—if I could find it.
While I searched diligently for it, I heard the door open loudly as a shocked Gage entered the room. Before I could even yell at him, I noticed that his eyes had already raked over my body. The last time this happened, I was at least wearing pants—this time, I wasn't so fortunate.
"Turn around, you pervert!" I yelled at the gaping Gage, trying to cover myself. When it finally clicked in his brain that he was staring, he turned his body to face the door. "Geez, you never knock, do you?" I said harshly as I put on my jeans and the stupid shirt I was looking for.
"It's my room too, you know," he defended.
"Well I thought you were getting breakfast!" I replied. "And I'm dressed now," I added.
"I did get breakfast," he said as he turned around. "Here." He tossed a bag at me—which I skillfully caught—before grabbing his own clothes and walking into the bathroom to take a shower, I presumed. When he was out of sight, I cautiously opened the bag, only to see a large banana nut muffin. I wasn't sure whether to be shocked that he actually did something nice and brought me breakfast, or to be surprised that he gave me the only kind of muffin I'll eat. Honestly, I was both, which made me start to feel slightly guilty for being a jerk to him. Then again, he did walk in on me while I was getting dressed—not once, but twice.
Gage finished his shower rather quickly, considering we were supposed to meet our parents in the lobby at eleven and it was already close to ten thirty. He came out of the bathroom dressed from the waist below, his faded jeans lowly hugging his hips while his toned chest glistened with water drops from his shower. Wait, why was I staring at him?
I quickly turned away and busied myself with packing my suitcase. Stupid hormones; obviously they were the reason why I was checking him out. It's not like I was attracted to Gage anyway, just his body, perhaps.
Luckily he put a shirt on and started packing his own suitcase in silence. I shoved all my clothes in my own, not even caring that they weren't folded as neatly as when I originally packed them. I probably should've cared though, since I couldn't shut it enough to zipper it.
"Stupid thing!" I mumbled, trying to zip it shut while sitting on it. When I couldn't do both at once, I pitifully faced Gage, who was looking at me curiously, already finished packing.
"A little help here?" I asked with a sheepish smile.
He rolled his eyes as if he expected me to ask him for help. He took a few strides toward me and crouched down to zipper my suitcase while I was still sitting on it. He leaned closely so his face was only inches from mine, though he focused on the zipper. Once he got it zippered all the way, he looked into my eyes, still not moving away.
For some odd reason, instead of yelling at him and pushing him away from me, I was frozen as I gazed into his dark blue eyes. When I looked into his eyes, it was almost as if I was looking into the same blue eyes as the young Gage I once knew very well. I used to know every characteristic of the young boy he was, almost as if I had spent every minute of every day memorizing his features. However, his kind eyes, joyous smile, and other features he had then were lost when he became the jerk I know today.
I don't know how long we didn't move or say anything, but our silent trance was broken once we heard knocking at the door. Gage blinked and shook his head before swiftly leaving to answer it. Meanwhile, I still remained sitting on my suitcase, utterly confused at what just happened.
"Why are you sitting on your suitcase?" Harlow asked suspiciously, though she was clearly amused.
"I, uh, couldn't shut it," I said, getting up. "Are you feeling better?"
Harlow nodded. "Yeah, I guess it was just food poisoning," she replied, while out of nowhere Mason came into my view as he tackled me onto the bed in a hug.
"I missed you, babe!" he exclaimed, rolling around on the bed as he hugged me tightly.
"I missed you too, but you're kind of choking me," I laughed.
He stopped rolling around, instead grinning down at me. "Sorry, cupcake."
I rolled my eyes playfully. "You're still on me, therefore I still can't breathe."
"Are you calling me fat, cutie pie?" he asked, feigning hurt.
"Maybe," I teased.
"You love me the way I am though, right baby?" he replied. I had to laugh at him. What's with the excessive use of pet names, anyway? Mentally shrugging, I decided I'd just go along with it. Mason was always like this, though usually it was toned down slightly.
"Of course I love you, Cookie," I joked.
"Cookie? You couldn't think of anything better?" he replied, smiling.
I shook my head. "Nope."
After a huff from Gage, he interrupted us. "We should go down to the lobby now." And with that comment, he grabbed his duffle bag and left the room, not even waiting for us to follow.
"What's up with him?" I wondered out loud. Mason and Harlow shrugged, though I didn't miss a small glance they gave each other. I'd have to ask Harlow about that later.
*****
Gage
There was something wrong with me. Maybe I was dying, or going crazy. There had to be something wrong with me since I couldn't stop thinking about Dakota. Big problem? Hell yeah!
Ever since I took her home after the homecoming dance, I haven't been able to think about anything—or anyone—else. It's so pathetic. And our moment in the hotel room, when we stared into each other's eyes for a long minute? Let's just say it brought back feelings that I forgot I had.
But I had to stay away from her. I had to avoid her when I could and argue with her so she wouldn't notice that I was starting to think differently of her. After all, it's not like she feels the same way. She was the one who rejected me years ago when I told her how I felt, and she'd reject me again in a heartbeat. Even though I was serious about loving her back then, I didn't think I could feel anything stronger than that feeling—until now.
Damn, I sound like such a dork. See, this is why I need to ignore my feelings for her and focus on insulting her instead. It was easier to ignore my feelings than to feel rejected.
"Alright, listen up class," Mrs. Wilson commanded. I sighed and sat back in my seat, wondering what project she could possibly come up with now. I guessed it was something for the gallery she was organizing, which she had already spoken to me about.
Yes, I was a talented artist. It's not something I brag about because I'm better known as a jock player of the school. Plus, I don't feel the need to advertise something that I genuinely like doing in my spare time. Painting and drawing are things I want to spend my entire life doing, so I'm not going to let school interfere. However, Mrs. Wilson knew how talented I was already. She told me that I should submit some extra pieces of mine, where they'd be sold and could benefit the art program.
"As I've briefly mentioned before, the fall gallery is approaching. Therefore, your new priority in this class will be that," Mrs. Wilson continued. "Now, I want you to submit at least one individual project and one project with your usual partner. You can choose whatever medium and subject you want, just make sure it's school appropriate."
"How will we finish in time?" some kid—Brent? Brad?—asked.
"I was getting to that, Brian," Mrs. Wilson said coldly. "In order for you to finish, you will have to dedicate some of your time to work on it at home. If you don't have supplies for your project at home, you can work on it in here after school," she finished.
After we started working on our individual projects for a while, the bell finally rang to dismiss the class, prompting the students to practically race out of the classroom. Dakota stopped to talk to Mrs. Wilson, so I lingered at my table as I packed my things up. As I approached them, I heard the end of their conversation before Mrs. Wilson stopped me.
"—so I can't stay after," Dakota finished.
"Well here's your partner now. Tell me, Gage, don't you have a studio in your home?" the teacher asked me.
I suddenly regretted mentioning that to her when she asked how I became a talented artist. "Yes," I answered.
"Then it's settled! Dakota, you can work on your project with your partner at his house. I'm sure he has the supplies you'll need," she finalized. I saw Dakota's shoulders slump in defeat, which made angry. I'm sure she wasn't as disappointed as me.
"Sound good?" Mrs. Wilson asked with an eyebrow raised.
"Perfect," I said through gritted teeth. The teacher nodded, dismissing us. I didn't need to take another hint. I stomped out of the classroom, barely realizing that Dakota was close behind.
I heard Dakota sigh before she spoke up. "When do you want to work on the project?" she asked. She sounded as if it was the last thing she wanted to do. It probably was, even if I didn't mind the projects as much as her. I just minded that I had to collaborate with her for one of them.
"Today. I want to get it over with," I answered.
"Fine. I'm staying after for an hour, so I'll get Harlow to drop me off at your house," she replied. She walked off toward the direction of the building with the dance studio without another word.
Great, this should be loads of fun.
*****
Dakota
I don't know what I did for the world to hate me so much. Seriously, another project with Gage? It wasn't even something that I could pass up either since our submissions for the gallery were a big part of our grade. The last thing I needed was to fail a class, especially a simple art class (even though it wasn't so simple for me).
Anyway, I was able to temporarily forget about the stupid art project as I practiced dancing. Ms. Reiter, my previous dance teacher, told me that a good friend of hers was coming to visit. It just so happened that her friend works at a great school for dancing and other arts, and Ms. Reiter said she would gladly watch my routine for a chance to get a good word put in for me.
That was the reason I couldn't stay after school in Mrs. Wilson's room to work on the project. Ms. Reiter talked the principal into letting me stay after every day this week and next week since her friend was visiting next Friday, which was when I would perform for her. For once I felt lucky to be the favorite student of a teacher. Then again, Ms. Reiter was a really cool teacher to begin with.
When my hour at the studio was over, I changed and waited outside for Harlow to pick me up. I told her about the news Ms. Reiter gave me and my new project with Gage.
"I didn't even know Gage was good at painting and drawing until a couple months ago," I mentioned as Harlow drove me to his house.
"Yeah, he's always been a skilled artist. He wants to open a studio for people who can't afford their own supplies one day," she said casually.
"Really?" I asked.
"Yup."
Huh, that surprised me. I never thought Gage would want to do something so selfless. Granted, I didn't know the person who he was today, but I never would've thought he'd want to do something that caring for others. He certainly was never like that when I was around.
After Harlow dropped me off, I thanked her and told her I'd walk home when I was done at Gage's house. We said our goodbyes and I rang the doorbell of the somewhat familiar house. I remembered coming over here as a child, when my biggest worry was choosing which color crayon to use. Those were the days.
"Dakota! It's so nice to see you, dear!" Mrs. Jenson exclaimed, motioning for me to come inside her home. She gave me a quick hug. "How are you?"
"I'm good, how about you?"
"I'm fantastic," she answered delightfully. Sometimes I wish I could be as cheerful as her, though I could imagine my cheeks would start hurting from constantly smiling. Her son certainly didn't take after her.
"How's your dancing going?" she wondered.
I grinned, surprised she knew I was still dancing. "It's great. Actually, I was told today that someone from a great school will be watching me perform. Hopefully she'll put in a good word for me."
"Well I'm sure she will. You were always such a wonderful dancer," she replied. "Now, I'm sure you'd like to get started on your project with Gage?" Not really, I thought. "He's upstairs on the left, in Hannah's old room." I nodded and made my way upstairs, thinking about Hannah on the way.
Hannah was Gage's older sister. I always liked her, though I didn't know her too well since she was older than me by seven years. She was married now and had two small children. The last time I saw them was almost two years ago, when one of her children was just a baby.
As I neared the studio and slowly opened the door, I noticed the painting Gage was currently working on. His back was turned to me as he listened to the blasting music playing while he painted an odd scene. It looked like a dark alley, though at the end of the alley was a beautiful field of flowers rather than a typical dark end or busy street. The alley and field contrasted each other, making each stand out in a unique way.
Not wanting to make him mess up by scaring him, I simply walked over to his phone and hit the pause button. He turned around looking both confused and startled.
"I decided against scaring you this time, but I won't be so generous the next time you blast horrible music," I told him. The truth was that I actually liked the music he was playing; I just didn't want to admit that we had something in common.
He rolled his eyes and set down his paintbrush as I took the opportunity to look around what used to be his sister's room. It changed drastically, in a good way. All four walls were painted white over the previous pink color, and scenic murals were added as well. Finished canvases lined the bottom of each wall, stacked in random piles against each other. His easel and stool were near the wall close to the door, while the other end of the room had two comfortable chairs on both sides of an end table. There was also a desk underneath the window across from the door, which had scattered sketches and colored drawings on it. Overall, the room was plain judging from the lack of furniture, yet at the same time it was so far from plain due to the beautiful paintings and drawings around the room.
I noticed him watching me carefully, so I asked, "What did Hannah say about this change?"
He shrugged. "She didn't mind. My mom turned one of the extra offices into an extra guest room for her kids, and she uses the guest room closer to that room."
I nodded, about to look through the stacked canvases, until he suggested to get started on the project. We were able to agree on what to do for our project and got started right away. Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as I thought.
*****
"...she doesn't look well," someone said. My eyes were still closed since I was unsure of whether this was a dream or not.
"I can see that, Mom," another voice said.
"She looks like she hasn't slept for days. Let's just leave her for a little longer." Once I heard that, I knew I was awake. My eyes fluttered open, landing on Gage's mother first before looking at him.
"You're awake! I'm sorry if we woke you. You should get some more rest though. You look like you haven't slept for days, dear," Mrs. Jenson said, clearly concerned for me.
Yeah, because I haven't, I thought. How could I sleep when I was so stressed about performing for Ms. Reiter's friend later today? For the past two weeks, it's all I could think about. Not once have I performed in front of a scout. It was different from sending in an audition tape that you could record as many times as you'd want, which made it more stressful.
"No, I'm fine," I lied. Honestly, my head was feeling unusually hot and the back of my throat was sore.
Mrs. Jenson reached over and felt my forehead with the back of her hand. "Oh dear, you're burning up!"
"I feel fine," I said while standing up, only to feel lightheaded and lose my balance. For once I didn't mind Gage catching me by my waist because it meant I wouldn't fall on the floor.
"You are clearly not fine. Rest here while I go get some medicine," she calmly ordered as I sat back down. I assumed I fell asleep while we were taking a break in their living room.
Gage sat on the table in front of me, his eyebrows furrowed in what appeared to be concern. "Why do you look like a dead corpse?" he asked me.
"A corpse is already dead, so that's a double negative," I said. When he narrowed his eyes at me, waiting for my answer, I sighed. "I've just been stressed, that's all."
"Why?"
I looked at him, wondering why in the world he even cared. "Because I have to perform later for a scout."
"You can't dance today. You should be resting," he said forcefully.
I glared at him. "I can dance, and I will. This is a really great opportunity for me."
"You won't be saying that when you make a fool of yourself in front of them," he glared.
"You know what?" I said, standing up. Thankfully I wasn't lightheaded this time. "I don't need to hear this. It's not like you care whether I make a fool of myself or not. Tell your mom I said thanks anyway." Before he could respond, I stormed out of his house and made my way back to the school. Luckily I had my mother's car today, so I didn't have to waste my energy walking to the school.
After Ms. Reiter introduced me to her friend, we talked about the school she worked at for a while. Then she said she was ready to see me perform, so I began doing what I love.
However, this time was different. I tried letting my body do the moves that I've diligently practiced, but instead I couldn't help but focus on my burning head and sore throat. I tried to mentally tell myself that I was fine and to continue dancing, except it didn't work.
I ended up messing up, not just once, but a few times. It was my first time dancing for a scout and I messed up. I tried to tell myself it was because I was suddenly ill, yet part of me thought that wasn't the only reason. Maybe I just wasn't ready.
Ms. Reiter's friend didn't look too impressed, though she encouraged me to keep practicing. Ms. Reiter seemed almost as disappointed as I was. I thanked them for the opportunity and left without changing back into my regular clothes. I waited until I was in my car before I let my tears fall. I knew I messed up big time, ruining any chance of getting a good word put in that school for me. I wouldn't blame them for rejecting me later on anyway. I was completely ashamed of my performance.
I drove straight to Harlow's house after my tears dried up. I needed my best friend's company right now. Her and Mason both knew about my performance, so they'd immediately know something went wrong as soon as I was going to see them. But I didn't care. I just wanted to be with them and forget about how I totally screwed up a chance of a lifetime.
As soon as I stepped into their house, I slowly made my way to Harlow's room, where she probably was since I didn't hear any noise coming from the living room. The second I opened her bedroom door, she took one look at me and the tears started pouring out again. She hugged me and let me cry, like the great friend she is.
"What's wrong?" Mason asked, appearing out of nowhere.
"I screwed up," I cried.
Mason's eyes softened sympathetically. "I'm sorry, Kody. There will be more chances to show them how great of a dancer you are," he reassured me.
I turned to face him once Harlow released me from her hug, noticing Gage was hovering near the door. He looked sorry for me, until I remembered what he said earlier. "Aren't you going to say you were right? After all, I did make a fool out of myself," I said to him, still crying.
His eyes roamed over my face—which was probably puffy and red—and he opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.
"I'm going to leave," I said, glancing back at Harlow and Mason.
"What? No, please stay, Kody. We can watch your favorite movies and—"
I cut Harlow off. "No, I need to go. I'm sick anyway, and I don't want to get you sick."
"Okay, well I'll call you later," she replied. I didn't respond as I shoved past Gage on my way out, trying to stop my tears from falling. I had a feeling they wouldn't be stopping anytime soon.