Abercrombie & Bitch

Saturday, April 26, 12:29pm – beach

Dylan and I spent the next hour getting to know each other. I was a little wary of her at first, but it didn’t take me long to realize that – while she wasn’t exactly the brightest crayon in the box – she was actually really nice. And that made it hard to dislike her.

Not that I didn’t want to. Believe me; I wanted very much to hate her. I didn’t know what was going on with Rob, but it made everything that much more complicated.

At this point, I didn’t know what to feel. I mean, last night I was making out with Zach in a closet, and then three hours later with Rob on his bed. My mind was doing back flips, trying to sort everything out. The knot in my stomach grew tighter and tighter the longer I talked to Dylan.

Thankfully, I was saved about a half hour ago. Zach had sent me a text telling me to meet him at the beach. Dylan had grilled me about Zach for twenty minutes before she finally let me go, on the condition that I hang out with her sometime. I agreed with a guilty conscience, knowing full well that something would probably happen to change her mind about that.

I stood on the beach and scanned the parking lot, with my arms wrapped tightly around my torso. I wasn’t all that excited to talk to Zach right now, but I knew that it was unavoidable. I’d just have to tell him the truth, I guess. Precisely how I was going to do that, I didn’t know. I guess I’d just have to make it up as I went along.

Before I knew it, the door to Zach’s Mercedes slammed and jolted me out of my daydream. He approached me slowly, and I took in his appearance for the first time in a while. His sandy blonde hair was slightly messed up and his button-up shirt and shorts were kinda wrinkled, but all-in-all, he still looked like an Abercrombie model.

And me? I was just some bitch who helped her boss cheat on his girlfriend while she herself cheated on her fake boyfriend.

Abercrombie and Bitch. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?

“Hey, Miri!” he greeted cheerfully, swinging a large picnic basket from his left hand and carrying a volleyball in his right. I didn’t know what he was planning on doing with that, but I certainly hope he didn’t expect me to play with it.

“Hey,” I muttered, kicking a small rock at my feet. “Listen, I just wanted to talk… about last night-”

He cut me off by placing a finger on my lips. I gave him a confused look. “Look. That’s not why I asked you to hang out today.” He shuffled his feet. “I heard what happened with your mom.”

My eyes narrowed at him automatically. “Excuse me?”

“Lindsey called me and told me everything.” He frowned. “I’m really sorry, Miranda. It was my own stupid fault-”

I shook my head. “No, it wasn’t, Zach. It was bound to happen sooner or later. I was hoping I’d wait until at least we’d graduated,” I said, managing to halfway smile, “but no big deal.”

Zach just looked incredulous. “Why aren’t you making a big deal out of this? You just – you – You just left!”

I bit my lip and nodded. “I’m staying with Rob for now. Or maybe Donelle’s. I don’t know. Just… I’m not going back there.” I shook my head. “I’m going to figure out some way to get my sisters safe, and then get the hell out of there.”

He was quiet for a few moments. Then, he said, “Come on. I want to show you something.”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me down the boardwalk, toward a group of cliffs and such along the beach. I raised an eyebrow at his back but followed him anyway, trying not to stumble over the small boulders that lined the pathway. I hadn’t been down to this beach in years. My mother hated it, and since my dad was the only one who ever took us there, I didn’t think I’d want to relive any memories.

But as I followed Zach, none of the bad memories came to mind. The only things I could think of were the fun memories. Like the last time I’d been here, when Meg was only a few months old. Olivia was only about nine, and yet she still managed to build her own bonfire using her glasses and a pile of driftwood someone had left there.

Or the time we went when I was twelve. Olivia was three, the twins were ten, and Andre was sixteen, and just getting her driver’s license. Either Lindsey or Harper – I couldn’t remember which, because back then they still looked alike – found a tiny crab on the beach and managed to get it stuck to their nose. We spent an hour trying to get it off.

Zach squeezed my hand gently as we approached this cove. I remembered it instantly; Zach’s mom used to take us here all the time during the summer when we were younger. Along with Zach’s older brothers, who would complain that if Zach got to bring his girlfriend, why couldn’t they? And a big argument always ensued, usually involving the accusation of cooties.

I couldn’t help but grin as he set down the volleyball and the picnic basket, turned to me, and threw his hands up in the air as if to say, ‘ta-da!’

“Remember this place?” he asked, holding eye contact, “We used to come here all the time. I had to clean it up a little,” he added, with a pink tint covering his cheeks, “But it’s almost as good as new.”

I smiled wider as I looked around. When I looked back at Zach, he was still blushing. “Why are you doing all of this?” I asked softly, shuffling my feet and looking at the sand beneath them, “I mean… We’re… We’re not really dating, Zach. Why would you bother?”

He didn’t answer right away. I heard a few footsteps coming closer to me, and before I knew it, he placed his finger under my chin and urged it upward, so I was staring into those eyes of his that were exactly the same color as the ocean. My heart lurched. “Because I want to, for one,” he replied, equally as quiet as I had, “And for the other… I’m not doing this as a boyfriend, Miranda. I’m doing this as your friend.”

As my friend. I kind of liked the sound of that.

-[-]-

Saturday, April 26, 6:56pm – cove

Zach remained surprisingly true to his word. We talked and hung out, like old friends. And I guess, in a way, we were. If it weren’t for the whole one-of-us-being-‘in-love’-with-the-other thing, it might even have passed for normal.

The thing is, though, Zach never brought up what happened the night before. I was beginning to think that maybe I’d just imagined the whole thing. Maybe I had imagined it, but I think the possibility of that was even scarier than if I hadn’t been. Because that would mean that Zach Sinclair really was in love with me, and that I may very well be falling for him in return. If I had imagined the whole thing, though… I just look like a loser.

It was a surprisingly warm night for April, almost like the weather was giving us a small taste of what was to come over the summer. I lay on the sand with my hands behind my head, staring up at the sky. It was at that one point in the sunset that the entire sky looked like it was pink, and the clouds and everything else were almost every color I could think of, and some I couldn’t. Zach was sitting on a nearby rock, sketching.

I’d completely forgotten about the art project. I’d finished mine earlier, when the sun was still completely up and Zach was making a sand castle like he used to, only now he was eighteen and enjoyed far more than he should have. The picture wasn’t really that good, I’ll admit, but it was better than a lot of what my classmates would come up with. I knew for a fact that people like Riley and Mika weren’t taking art because of their fantastic drawing skills, that’s for sure.

“So,” Zach mumbled, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as his pencil darted across the paper. He’d always been a good artist, though Mika, Mrs. Applegate, and I were the only ones who knew that. “Talent show auditions are tomorrow. What are we doing?”

I sighed and propped myself up on my elbow, facing him. “What can we do?” I grumbled, watching the waves roll onto the shore. “It’s not like either of us has any talent.”

“Except for getting revenge on exes,” Zach chuckled. I rolled my eyes. “Didn’t you sing in the talent show a few years ago? What about that?”

I snorted and flopped back down on the sand. “Zach, I have a recording of that. My singing can be compared to that of a dying cat.” I glanced over at him. “If I remember correctly, so can yours.”

He rolled his eyes. “Please, Muffin Bear. I’m an awesome singer.”

“Prove it,” I mocked, sliding my eyes shut and knowing he wouldn’t do it.

He was quiet. Ha.

“I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house, that don’t bother me.” he sang quietly, so quietly that I almost couldn’t hear it. “I can take a few tears now and then and just let ‘em out… I’m not afraid to cry, every once in a while, even though goin’ on with you gone still upsets me… There are days every now and again I pretend I’m okay, but that’s not what gets me…”

I sat up and stared at him. Since when could Zach sing? His voice sounded deep and country-like – even though I’m sure he’s never been farther west than Nashville. I remember telling him once how much I liked country music. But the last time I’d heard him, he’d sounded terrible. Granted, his voice hadn’t changed yet… but does puberty really cause that much of a change?

Yes. Yes, it does.

“What hurts the most, was being so close, and having so much to say, and watching you walk away… And never knowin’, what could’ve been, and not seeing that lovin’ you… is what I was tryin’ to do…”

He trailed off. He’d been staring at his sketch the entire time, but his pencil had stopped moving. As soon as he was done singing the pencil rapidly moved across the paper, unaffected.

I didn’t know what to say after that. I was a little dizzy from the sudden realization that Zach could sing. Finally, I cleared my throat. “O-Okay. You can sing. When the hell did you learn how to sing?!”

He chuckled. “A good magician never reveals his secrets.”

“Hey. That’s my line.”

“Too bad. It’s mine now.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Well, that’s great. But we still have no act that we can perform on stage. Unless, you know, you want me to attempt to sing.” I winced at the thought.

Zach laughed again and finally set the sketchpad down. “That, Muffin Bear, is where you’re wrong.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking abou-”

Suddenly, Zach took my hands in his. Music started to play from the little speakers where his iPod was docked. The music was Spanish sounding, and it only took me a few seconds to remember where it was from.

“Follow my lead,” he whispered, and then I was spinning. Literally.

“Follow me into my world
Let your worries fade with every step you take
Baby whatcha' waiting for?”

My parents had made me take a salsa dancing class when I was nine, and so did his. I was incredibly rusty in my skills, but Zach was almost flawless. I started swaying my hips to the music like I remembered. He grinned.

He thrust his arms outward and pulled me back in, while I twisted under his grip. I couldn’t believe I remembered how to do this; I hadn’t danced like this since that one time during freshman year when Riley had dared me to at Winter Formal with David Parker, who was a sophomore I’d been dating at the time and one of the best dancers Redford had ever seen. Needless to say, Zach wasn’t that good, but I certainly could tell he’d practiced.

The song ended just as we ran out of moves, and Zach dipped me. I’d never been dipped before, so when he did that, I freaked out. Like, freak out as if I’d seen a spider in my bedroom. I squealed and wriggled out of his grip, landing flat on my butt on the ground and dragging Zach down with me. He landed on top of me with an “oomph.”

I groaned. “Ow… Okay, I think we need some practice.”

He nodded, panting. “Yeah. The…show’s not until next…week, and we don’t have to be… perfect for auditions, so I think… we’ll be fine.”

I agreed. But Zach still didn’t move. “Jeez, Sinclair, get off. You’re heavy.”

He grinned and sat up, straddling my waist. “You know you like it, Miri.”

Yes, very much. “No, I don’t.” Why was he…flirting with me? I propped myself up on my elbow again. My face was only a few inches from his. His gaze flickered to my lips. “I thought we were ‘just friends’ tonight,” I whispered, my own gaze subconsciously landing on his own lips.

I realized then, with a jolt, that I actually wanted him to kiss me. I didn’t know why; it’s not like he’d done anything outrageously romantic. The picnic was awesome and the dancing… I couldn’t even describe it. Except for the previous remark, Zach hadn’t said anything remotely flirtatious the entire day. We were just… friends.

I missed the old Zach. And the person I was spending time with that day was the old Zach – he wasn’t popular, he wasn’t a jerk, and he actually cared about some little freshman dork that he’d been friends with since he was four.

I leaned closer to him.

He pulled away. “You’re right. No couple stuff.” He pushed himself up off of the ground and brushed himself off before offering me his hand.

I took it, dazed. “U-uh, right.”

He gave me a small smile and walked back toward his rock, picking up his pencil and beginning to sketch again. I strolled down to the edge of the water and let the tiny waved wash over my feet.

“No couple stuff…”