Life In Reverse Read online

  “Whatever.” I wave her away with my hand, quickly dropping the subject she knows I have no desire to entertain, much less discuss. “I have more important things to think about. Like my presentation for sculpture class. I need to put together the rest of my research and finish writing it.”

  “Seriously. We’re out of college and you still study way too much.” We walk up the driveway, greeted by the sound of Dad’s drill and the smell of freshly sanded wood.

  “And you never studied nearly enough,” I counter, extracting my arm from hers to check the mailbox. I flip open the top, then pull out a stack of envelopes and sort through them one at a time.

  “Whatcha looking for?” I can feel her taunting eyes on me as I thumb through the letters. “Something from that gallery in New York, perhaps? About that job?”

  “No.” I glance up and give her a light slap with an envelope. “Well,” I smile, “maybe.”

  “I’m all-knowing, remember? Oh, that reminds me. Dad said he’s going to come with us next month to Manhattan when I have my third interview for that Assistant job. He wants to help us look around for places to live,” she informs me as we walk inside. “So get ready, because New York City here we come.” She gives me her trademark Avery wink then bounds up the stairs, stopping when she reaches the landing. “I’m going to change and help Dad make another birdhouse.” The sound of her laugh lingers in the air until her door closes.

  “Hey, sweetie. How are the new neighbors?” Mom emerges from the dining room with a large portfolio under her arm, wearing another new outfit. This time it’s blue dress pants and a crisp white blouse. Her ash brown hair is twisted up in a bun.

  “They’re interesting.” I drop the mail on the side table next to the door. “Not too much else to report.”

  “Okay. Well, perhaps we can invite them for dinner at some point.” She grabs her keys off the hook beside the hall mirror, taking a quick glance at her appearance. “How do I look?”

  “Fantastic, Mom. Where are you going?”

  “Meeting a potential client. I told your Dad already so you guys go ahead and start dinner without me.” Her jacket is lying on the sofa and I pick it up and lay it over her arm.

  “Sounds good. See ya later, Mom.”

  I putter around in the kitchen after she leaves, opening the fridge to check on preparations for tonight’s dinner. We’re making chicken piccata, and it was my choice because it happens to be my favorite. Mom is an excellent cook and it’s one of the things we’ve inherited from her. Well, more so the baking, but still an “imperative life skill” as she often calls it.

  With my notebook and index cards in hand, I pour some fresh coffee into my Mickey Mouse mug and dump in a couple of sugars. My iPod is on the kitchen counter and I snag that too along with my ear buds, doing a bit of a juggle until I reach the front porch. I drop everything on the bench swing and take a few sips of coffee before setting my mug down on the ground.

  Lost in sculpture terminology, I don’t realize someone is standing in front of me until a throat clears. My gaze travels up from a pair of chucks and faded jeans to a face that I’m very surprised to see.

  “Hey.” Vance leans against the porch railing, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other holding the brownie pan. “I thought you might want this back.”

  “Did you now, Vance?”

  “Okay.” The corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. “I deserve that. I was kind of being a dick before and… I’m… sorry.” His distressed attitude coupled with his hesitance tells me he must not apologize often.

  I peer around his body before returning to his mildly interesting, and I’ll admit, somewhat attractive face. “Did someone put you up to it? Or did you come here of your own volition?”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Well….” I tap the pencil against my lips as I survey him. “You don’t seem like the apologetic type.”

  His eyes grow wide in disbelief and I take a moment to study them. I’m trying to determine what color they are—definitely blue, tinged with maybe gray when he snaps. “Seriously? You don’t even know me.”

  “Just a perception.” I shrug, then bend down and latch onto the handle of my mug before bringing it to my mouth for a sip.

  He eyes the mug and his expression shifts to one of amusement. “What’s with the Mickey Mouse theme?”

  “Oh.” I smile over the rim of Mickey’s head. “I have an unhealthy obsession with Mickey Mouse.”

  “I didn’t know there was such a thing.”

  “Yeah. It started when I was five and it’s gotten progressively worse. Even at twenty-two, I can’t seem to shake it. I’ve tried everything but….” I stop myself when I realize I sound like a babbling idiot. Because that’s just something I don’t do. He crosses his arms over his chest and my body heats from the conviction in his stare. I brush the feeling off. “Anyway, thanks for bringing the pan but if there isn’t anything else, I really need to get back to work.”

  “What?” He blinks twice and strokes his thumb over his lower lip as if he’s having difficulty comprehending my words. “Are you dismissing me?”

  “Pretty much,” I retort, glancing down at my notes then back to him.

  “Well, shit.” He places the pan down on the bench and scratches his head. Covertly, I watch him walk down the steps, quickly moving my eyes back to the paper when he stops on the sidewalk. “By the way, the answer is my brother.”

  “The answer?” I drop the card on my lap, racking my brain for whatever question I might have asked. “The answer to what?”

  The sarcasm when he speaks is unmistakable. “Who put me up to this.” Then he walks away with too much swagger for his own good.

  I really don’t like him.

  “SHE FUCKING DISMISSED me. Can you believe that shit?” I collapse onto the couch, tossing my keys on the coffee table.

  Julian rifles through a cardboard box but pauses to meet my annoyed stare. “What do you mean, she dismissed you?”

  “I mean exactly that. She dismissed me. Told me she was busy.” And that’s a first. I’ve never been let go by a girl. If anything, it’s always the other way around. Who the fuck does she think she is anyway? “Plus, that whole Mickey Mouse thing. She’s twenty-two for fuck’s sake.” My lips curl into a sneer. “Anyway, she’s weird.”

  “I happen to think she’s cute,” Julian remarks with a gleam in his eye, and I glare at him. “Actually, they’re both cute.”

  “Whatever.”

  “She bruise your ego a bit, little brother? Not falling at your feet fast enough?” He chuckles and I lob a pillow at his smug face but he blocks it with his elbow.

  “That’s rich coming from the Pied Piper of chicks.”

  He nods his head and smirks as his eyes roll upward in thought. “Pied Piper. I like it.”

  I grab another pillow and bunch it under my chin. “So… I’m going to head over to see Mom tomorrow after I make those changes to my resume you recommended and apply to a fuckload of jobs. You gonna come with me?”

  He drops some pictures in the box, tugging on his lip a few times. “I don’t think so. I’ve only got a few days off from work and I want to make a dent in the unpacking and get my room together. I’ll go… another time.”

  I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “Julian, she wants to see you.”

  He blows out a weighted breath, frowning. “She doesn’t even know who I am, Vance.”

  “So what does that mean? That’s it. You won’t even go on the off chance that something might trigger her memory?” I flop back against the couch, tossing the pillow to the side. “Sounds to me like you’re running away.”

  “You’re talking to me about running away? There are a lot of different ways to run, Vance.”

  My spine stiffens as tension rolls through my shoulders. “Oh yeah, and what does that mean?”

  “It means….” He rises from the floor, brushing dust off his knees. “Sticking your head in books and refusing to engage
, that’s not exactly meeting life head on.”

  The anger brewing inside of me dictates that I’m done with this conversation, and I push up from the couch. “I need a cigarette.”

  “You don’t smoke.”

  I push open the screen door with more force than I intended and let it bang shut behind me. “Why not start? There’s no time like the present,” I mumble under my breath.

  It’s the only thing I have anyway.

  MY LEGS FEEL sluggish today, uncertain. Or maybe I’m the uncertain one. So much change is happening in the next few months; our move to Manhattan, a job, grad school—a whole new life. I’m excited, but also apprehensive, unsure what this next chapter will bring. Knowing that Avery will be by my side, though, gives me that extra boost. It certainly won’t be boring. That’s for sure.

  Every other store I pass in the mall reminds me of how much I dislike shopping, until the scent of warm bread fresh out of the oven fills my nose and distracts me. I turn around to find two girls eating those giant salted pretzels from The Pretzel Shack. Immediately, I’m thrown back to the day I got my driver’s license. The first thing I wanted to do was pick up my best friend Troy Buchanan and drive to the mall to get one of those pretzels. I smile a little at that. Freedom is a funny thing.

  I walk past a few more shops trying to find this new restaurant that Troy bragged about, stopping to drool over the different types of clay at The Perfect Sculpture. I’m not sure where this new ‘Serve Yourself’ place is located. I’m also not big on the whole buffet thing. But I am big on seeing Troy, and this is what he wanted to do.

  My phone pings and I pull it from the zippered pocket of my purse, grinning when I see a text from him.

  Troy: Hey, Love, be there in 10. Grab some grub and a seat. Oh, Avery is with me.

  I swipe my thumb over the screen and type back.

  Me: Hurry up. I’m hungry.

  Troy: xo

  Tucking my phone back in my purse, I round the corner. Sure enough, there’s a sign pointing to the restaurant followed by an orange awning with the words ‘Serve Yourself’ in bright green letters. The place is nothing like I expected. Rows of neon picnic tables fill one side, while on the other, various types of food and desserts are shielded behind a half sheet of glass. It reminds me of our dorm cafeteria at Oregon State University, only much cooler.

  Slabs of chocolate fudge cake make me reconsider my original thoughts about this place. Nothing like chocolate to lift the spirits. I immediately pick up a tray then fly over and nab the biggest piece with the most frosting. The pasta doesn’t look half bad either and I scoop some on my plate before grabbing a drink. Out of nowhere, a long finger makes a mad swipe for the top of my cake and I yank it to the far end of the tray.

  “Whoa, Ems. Now that is a serious piece of cake,” Troy remarks. He’s almost as enthusiastic about chocolate as I am. Almost.

  “Hands off. Get your own.” I smirk and cup my hand around the cake, guarding it with my life.

  He bats his long, blond eyelashes and gives me his best lopsided smile. “Not even for me?”

  “No.” My tone is firm but playful. “Not even for you.” He kisses my cheek and I laugh. Sensing a moment of weakness on my part, he reaches for the cake again. “Stop trying to distract me. The answer is still no,” I repeat, and he sighs. “So… how was your date with Nick last night?”

  He rakes a hand through his straw-colored hair. “That’s something we need to discuss over food. The jury’s still out. He’s hung like there’s no tomorrow, but something just wasn’t right.”

  “Oh My God,” I shriek. “That is wayyyy too much information.”

  He winks and traipses off toward the hot dishes, throwing me a glance over his shoulder. “See you at the table, and plan on telling me what’s wrong. You can either tell me now or at work later. Your choice.”

  Crap.

  Troy and I have been friends since the first day of second grade when he practically accosted me for my Mickey Mouse pencil. He was adorable with his missing teeth and his big grin that I had no choice but to give it to him—and the rest is history. He lives for making other people smile. Something I can’t help doing right now as he balances a tray with one hand and tosses an apple in the air with the other, not a care in the world.

  I felt like that, too—before.

  I shake my head to try to empty out my thoughts as I wander between the aisles of tables. Avery and Troy wave their arms in the air, gesturing for me to come over when I spot something out of the corner of my eye. Someone sitting alone at the far end of the restaurant.

  Vance.

  My feet propel me in his direction, almost as if there’s an invisible hand on my back guiding me. Troy and Avery yell my name but I ignore them until I find myself standing next to Vance. Heavily engrossed in a book, he shovels spaghetti into his mouth like a caveman, hand gripping the fork while spaghetti hangs from his lips. I clear my throat to announce my presence and it takes him several seconds to realize I’m there. He gives me a sideways glance, flipping the book over on the table to wipe sauce from his mouth with the back of his hand. I peer over his shoulder at the novel but he slides his free arm across the cover.

  “What are you reading?”

  “What do you care?” He spits the words out before returning to his plate of spaghetti. It’s actually a very good question. I have no idea.

  “Just curious.”

  He drops the fork onto his plate with a clatter and side eyes me again. “Curiosity kills. Didn’t you know that? Besides,” he adds, those blue-gray eyes drilling holes through my skull, “how do you even have time to talk to me? One would assume you’re too fucking busy. So if you don’t mind,” he continues after a pause, “I’d actually like to get back to my book.”

  I glare at him with the same intensity he’s giving me. “You know, I don’t know you that well and already I don’t really like you.”

  He exhales a laugh, uncaring and bitter. “Well, I guess we’re even. Because I don’t like you much either. And don’t worry about the knowing me part… because you won’t.” He rattles the words off with such venom I have to wonder where the anger is coming from. But I’m certainly not sticking around and subjecting myself to it.

  “Arrgg.” I huff out my frustration and stalk over to Troy and Avery.

  “Wasn’t that a great little lunchtime show,” Avery muses with too much enjoyment as I drop my tray on the table.

  “He is so annoying.” I hook a leg over the bench seat and twist the cap off my Snapple Iced Tea, chugging down my aggravation.

  “Yes,” Avery replies with a smug grin, talking around a mouthful of apple. “I can see just how annoying he is.”

  “Okay.” Troy steals a look at Vance then leans into the table. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on? Because that dude is hot, and annoying turns me on.”

  “Oh my God.” I playfully smack his shoulder then twirl spaghetti onto my fork. “Trust me on this, Troy. That one is hostile. I’d stay as far away as possible.”

  “Just like you’re doing?” Avery counters, and I give her a dirty look as I bring the pasta to my mouth.

  “Wait. I’m totally confused. Are you into this guy, Ems? And how do you even know him?” Before I have a chance to answer, Troy stabs at my cake adding, “Because you’ve gone through quite a dry spell and if you are, I fully support it.” The humor in his words is muted by the concern in his eyes. I know he worries about me. But the truth is, I’m okay. The last thing I need in my life right now is a guy. I’ve got work, my sculpting, Troy, and Avery. That’s enough for me.

  “No.” I drag my cake to the far end of the tray. “I’m not. He and his brother moved in down the street so they’re our neighbors now. I was just,” I shrug, “Well, I don’t know what I was doing.”

  “That’s okay, love.” Troy puts a hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to know.”

  “Well this is a surprise, neighbor.” I look up as Julian plops down next to Avery.
He has a huge smile on his face and an enthusiastic spark in his hazel eyes. “What’s up?”

  “And who might you be?” Troy brushes his hair away from his forehead and studies Julian.

  Julian sticks his hand out in the middle of the table. “I’m Julian. And you are?”

  “Entranced.”

  Avery and I snort a laugh and Julian’s straight nose crinkles in the center. “I don’t get the joke.”

  Troy shakes his offered hand then pulls it away as he finally puts the pieces together. “Ohhhh, you’re the new neighbor.”

  “Talking about me already, huh?” Julian winks and a huge grin splits his face. He really is quite charming.

  “I’m Troy,” he presses his palms together and makes a swinging motion with his arms. “I bat for the other team. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Yeah. Good to meet you too,” Julian responds.

  “How come your brother is sitting all by himself?” Avery blurts out, fluttering her eyelashes at Julian. I want to roll my eyes and laugh at the same time. She’s so obvious.

  The smile disintegrates from his lips almost as quickly as it appeared and he lets out a long sigh. “Vance is, well, kind of a loner.” He glances over at his brother. “Hey, Vance,” he yells out, gesturing to our table. I turn my head in time to catch Vance smirking and flipping his brother the bird. Julian shakes it off and returns his attention to us. “He’s got a lot going on.”

  I want to ask him what. But I don’t. It’s obvious that Vance wants to be left alone, and the fact that I’m even analyzing this to begin with is enough to make me push the spaghetti away and go right for the chocolate cake.

  “Hey.” Troy tries to insert his fork into the fortress I’ve built around my cake. “I thought you were sharing with me.”

  I glare at him, a playful narrowing of my eyes. “I don’t think so. I need it more than you do.”