The Risks We Take Page 2

  “I think we’re thinking the same thing,” he mumbles, stepping forward. “Based on the color on your cheeks, that is. You always blushed a lot. Especially that day under the slide.”

  I bite my lip.

  He leans forward. “Maybe I can make you blush some more? It’s been a long time. I’ve learned plenty of new moves to make the ladies blush.”

  My eyes widen.

  “I have to go,” I repeat, voice hoarse. Walking toward my door, I shake my head.

  Ian Wells is flirting with me.

  Ian Wells is in a band.

  Ian Wells is not my best friend anymore …

  “I am,” he calls, as I slip the key in the lock.

  I look at him in confusion. “You’re what?”

  He smirks. “In a band,” he answers. He leans against the wall. “We have to catch up, Kasey. It’s been too long.”

  Even though he sounds sincere, I don’t want to. Years passed and old flames died. I was just a kid with a crush that meant nothing.

  First kiss or not, I don’t want to know anything more about Ian Wells.

  KASEY

  The music playing in the background of the diner makes me want to shoot myself. It isn’t a horrible song, but it constantly plays on the radio. Everywhere I go, I hear it. It doesn’t help that I woke up with the kind of headache that should only be this horrible after a whole night of drinking. The way my temples pound makes everything around me echo, and the diner is the busiest it’s been in days.

  “Hey, Kasey, mind filling table three’s coffee?” Rosie asks as she passes me with a tray of dirty dishes. I duck under her raised arm, grabbing the coffee pot and heading toward the directed table.

  I smile when I see Bill, one of our most frequent regulars, sitting in the booth. As usual, he has the morning paper laying across the table, and his coffee cup in his hand. He greets me with bright, grey eyes that make his skin wrinkle at the corners.

  “Mornin’, sweetheart,” he rasps, standing up and giving me a peck on the cheek.

  Just the sight of him makes my day brighter, and the pain in my head ease. As I pour his coffee, my eyes drift toward the article on the front page. My jaw drops when I see my picture plastered in the center of the page.

  I overfill his cup, spilling some of it on the table, which soaks the off-white paper. I hastily wipe up the hot liquid with a rag I keep in my back pocket before it burns Bill.

  “I’m so sorry,” I apologize quickly, looking back at my picture.

  It’s me flipping off the paparazzi in front of my building yesterday. The ugly expression on my face makes me want to run across town and collect every paper I can find before people see it.

  I swipe my hand down my face in embarrassment.

  “I think they got you at the wrong angle,” he muses, making me laugh through my mortification.

  “I didn’t realize they were taking my picture.”

  I try skimming the article, and see Ian’s name among the words that are destroyed by the coffee stains. I read up on his band, Relentless, which is apparently pretty popular. He’s the lead singer, which is the whole reason everybody wants a picture of him. If I kept up on the news, maybe I would have known that he was coming back to West Haven. It would have saved me from looking like a total ass, that’s for sure.

  Bill pats my hand. “Don’t sweat it, sweetheart. The paper isn’t that popular anyway. I’m sure nobody will notice.”

  Rosie passes us, setting down drinks at table four.

  She says, “I wouldn’t count on that. That boy is famous around this town. Anything with his name in it will easily go viral, which is what the paper needs to keep running.”

  I groan. “I look horrible.”

  She chuckles and glances at the picture. “I’ll admit, you’ve seen better days.”

  No doubt about that.

  I take my bottom lip between my front teeth and return my eyes on the article. It says that I hated Ian’s arrival, and the picture was taken during my breakdown. That isn’t even true … not really. It’s not like I realized who he was when I got to my building, and nobody asked me about it after the encounter.

  Rosie put her hands on her hips. “No reason to be worried, kiddo. You know Ian, right? What are you scared of? That he’ll see and it and believe the media?”

  “No,” I reply quickly. “I don’t care what Ian thinks. I just don’t like being made into the bad girl. The only reason I was angry yesterday was because there were two men blocking the door to my building. They said I wasn’t allowed in.”

  Bill scoffs. “What were they, his bodyguards?”

  Rosie clucks. “The boy can’t be that famous.”

  I shrug. “It was just inconvenient,” I explain. “All I wanted was to go inside and go to bed, but they wouldn’t let me. The stupid reporters were snapping pictures and talking so loud it was maddening. So I flipped them off.”

  Bill smirks. “That’s my girl.”

  Rosie pats my shoulder, then walks in the back.

  The bells on the door chime, causing me to glance over my shoulder. Ian strolls in, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his torn blue jeans. The black T-shirt he wears is looser than I saw most guys wear, and had some forgotten 80’s band logo on it.

  I walk up to him. “Before you say anything, nothing in the article is true. Those reporters made everything up like the soulless assholes they are.”

  He presses his lips together as if to hold back his laughter. “You’re not a fan of the media, are you?”

  “And you are?” I challenge.

  He shakes his head. “Nah, they’re annoying as hell. I’m not angry about the article. I was too busy laughing at the beautiful photo of you.”

  My face heats up. “Gee, thanks.”

  “I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he tells me. “For the record, my boys filled me in on the incident yesterday. They like you, which isn’t common.”

  His boys? “Are you talking about the steroid-induced men at the door yesterday?”

  He grins. “That’s Eric and Danny. They work for me, but we’ve known each other forever. They’re cool, but … protective. We’ve been through a lot, especially since the band took off. It takes them a while to warm up to people, so admitting they actually like you is impressive. Don’t worry about them, though. I told them they didn’t need to stick around. That was just my buddies worrying about me.”

  I roll my eyes. “Again, thanks.”

  Rosie leans on the counter. “Listen, pretty boy. We really need Kasey today, so unless you’re going to ask her out or order something, wrap up your little get together.”

  I stare at Rosie, trying to contain my laughter. She’s always straightforward, which is what I love about her.

  Ian clears his throat. “I wouldn’t mind a coffee,” he admits, sitting on the stool at the counter.

  I walk behind the counter and grab a mug out.

  “How do you like it?”

  “There are so many ways I’d like to answer that question,” he muses, winking at me. “But for now, just as it is. No milk or sugar.”

  I wrinkle my nose. I’m not a coffee fan to begin with, but just black coffee? That is disgusting.

  “Not a coffee fan?” he guesses.

  I shake my head.

  “What about tea?”

  “Nope.”

  He raises his eyebrow. “Hot chocolate?”

  I smile at that, but don’t answer.

  “I remember when we were kids you had an obsession with chocolate. You used to smuggle candy bars in your backpack, remember? We’d sit underneath the slides and eat until recess was over.”

  I pour his coffee, meeting his eyes. “I remember. I’m still obsessed with chocolate, by the way. Some things never change.”

  He looks down at his coffee, running his finger across the rim of the cup. “You have though. You’re different than I remember you.”

  I wipe off the counter with my rag. “We haven’t seen each other since
we were like ten, Ian. Of course I’ve changed. We both have.”

  Rosie rings the bell. I grab the tray of food for table eight and head toward the back dining room. When I’m sure they are satisfied, I make my way back to the front where Ian is watching me closely.

  “I know your mom told you staring was rude,” I say casually.

  He gives me a boyish grin, showing some of his pearly whites. “I’m just amazed.”

  “Why?” I tease, “Because I’m different? Just say it, Ian. You’ve noticed that I’m not the same overweight person you knew twelve years ago. I was a chubby, food-obsessed little girl.”

  His blue eyes brighten. “I didn’t want to mention it, but you look damn good. I’m not saying you didn’t back then, but it really shows now.”

  “That’s your other head talking, boy,” Bill calls from his booth.

  I laugh. “Mind your own business, Bill!”

  He winks. “I’ve got to keep an eye out for you, girl. Somebody around here has to.”

  “Hey!” Rosie complains from the back, poking her head out so she could see him. “What am I? Chopped liver?”

  “Fine, it’s a joint custody,” Bill compromises.

  Rosie nods once in agreement.

  I focus on putting some of the clean dishes away, ignoring the way Ian is looking at me. He’s confused, and I know why.

  “What about your mom?”

  I cringe when everyone falls silent.

  “Her mother is a sore subject,” Rosie explains sourly, walking out of the kitchen and putting her arm around my shoulder.

  “What happened? You two were so close.”

  I press my lips together. “Like you said,” I murmur, “things change. People change. Not everybody does for the better, and I think we should just leave it at that.”

  Rosie rubs my arm in comfort.

  Bill comes up to me and puts a twenty-dollar bill on the counter. “Everything will be all right, darlin’. It always is when you have us.”

  I smile and give him a peck on the cheek, waving him off as he walks out the door.

  “I’m sorry,” Ian apologizes softly. “I shouldn’t have pried.”

  “No,” Rosie agrees, “you shouldn’t have.”

  “He didn’t mean any harm,” I murmur.

  She puts her hands on her hips like she’s going to scold me. I always know when I was about to be chided based on the spark that lights up her brown eyes.

  “If he stayed in touch, he would know.”

  I wince, because she isn’t wrong.

  My eyes travel to Ian. “Listen, I need to get back to work. Do you want anything else? Or will the coffee be all?”

  He stares at me with dull eyes. “Why don’t we catch up then? I have some free time tonight.”

  I bite my thumbnail. “I can’t.”

  “You can’t, or you won’t?”

  I hesitate.

  He leans forward. “Let me take you out, Kay.”

  “Please stop calling me that.”

  He looks perplexed. “You really have changed, huh?”

  All I can do is shrug.

  Rosie gives him the bill. “Why don’t you leave the poor girl alone?”

  “It’s okay,” I tell her quietly, even though part of me thinks it’s not.

  “No,” she disagrees, focusing her eyes on me, “it’s not. He of all people should know what lack of privacy feels like. Small towns like ours just makes it harder.”

  Ian says, “I’m sorry if I offended you. I just—”

  “You should be!” Rosie exclaims.

  “Stop!” I blast, looking at her. “I can take care of myself, Rose. I know there have been times that I didn’t prove that to you, but I assure you’ve I’ve grown since then. How would he know about Mom or anything around this town? He’s lucky he even managed to leave. If I were him, I would never look back, and never ask questions.”

  She presses her lips together then, and walks in the back. The last thing I want is to hurt her feelings, because she took me under her wing when I was a teenager. She was the step-in-mom that I needed for a while, but I knew how to take care of myself now.

  Ian pulls a five-dollar bill out of his pocket. “I’m really sorry, Kasey. She’s right, I should have kept in contact. I didn’t realize things would change so much.”

  I scoff to myself. He doesn’t think twelve years is plenty of time to change? Did he think I’d still be the overweight little girl who shoved candy in her mouth every five minutes? Or that everybody else would be the same age as when he left?

  I do my best to refrain from rolling my eyes at how ridiculous that is.

  I make change for him. “Rose is just very protective of me. When I was teenager some stuff happened that I didn’t cope with very well. I became a very … angry person. I got into some trouble, and since then she’s kept a pretty good eye on me.”

  I pass him the change, but he shakes his head. “Keep it. You deserve it.”

  I put it in the tip jar.

  “So how about catching up?”

  My lips twitch into a frown. “I really can’t, Ian.”

  He nods once, standing up. “I’ll admit, I don’t think I’ve ever been rejected before.”

  I give him an empty smile. “I’m sure you’ll find a girl to say yes to you.”

  “I’ve got plenty of girls to say yes to me.”

  Of course you do.

  “Then ask one of them out.”

  “I’m not interested in them,” he informs me.

  My eyebrows raise. “Why is that?”

  He leans his arms on the counter. “None of them are you, Kasey. None of them were my friends, they’re just infatuated with my lifestyle ... the fame.”

  That’s sad.

  “Plus,” he adds, “nobody can forget their first kiss.”

  My old childhood house is falling apart from the outside in, which only increases my anticipation to move my little sister out. I’ve been planning the move for weeks, fought with my mother about it for weeks, and made the extra bedroom into a five-year-old’s paradise. I bought everything Taylor will need to be comfortable, including new toys to soften the blow.

  Although, I doubt she will put up a fight today.

  She loves Mom, but only by default.

  Taylor practically tackles me as soon as I walk into the house. She’s wearing the same exact outfit she had on yesterday, and by the smell of it, she’s worn it longer than that. We hold hands as I walk us into the kitchen.

  Mom has a cigarette in one hand and her cell phone in the other. The place is a disaster. It looks like the refrigerator exploded, and all of the contents inside splattered all over the place. The sink is full of dirty dishes, and there are at least four boxes of leftover pizza with ants crawling in it on the counter.

  I don’t dare inhale through my nose, because God only knows what bacteria is spreading through the air.

  “Oh good, you’re here,” Mom says, standing up. She grabs her jacket and purse. “She needs to stay with you for a while. I’m going out of town.”

  Did she forget I was taking her anyway?

  “Again?” I ask instead.

  She shrugs, finishing off her wine. “Michael needs me to pick him up, and we’re going on a little vacation. Nobody else is willing to watch Taylor. You obviously have plenty of time on your hands.”

  “Go get your things,” I tell Taylor through clenched teeth. She may only be five, but she knows when things are going to get ugly.

  As soon as she’s upstairs, I turn to Mom. “I am working double shifts at the diner to make ends meet, and raising your child. So don’t you dare tell me that I have time on my hands! I can barely go an hour without you asking me for something.”

  I gesture around me. “And what the hell happened in here? Taylor can get sick from all the shit you have lying around. When was the last time you did the fucking laundry? She smells like smoke and Febreze.”

  Mom rolls her eyes. “You don’t have any right
questioning me after all I’ve done for you.”

  My hands are shaking from the anger she’s making me hold back. If Taylor wasn’t in the house I would scream, but I don’t want her hearing that side of me. That side of me sounds too much like my mother, and I’d rather die first than ever let myself become like her.

  Mom knows that I wouldn’t be around if it weren’t for Taylor. If Taylor was living with Dad she would probably be better off, which is sad since we have a poor excuse of a father, too.

  “I’ve been taking care of myself since Dad left,” I point out gingerly. “Taylor wouldn’t have half of the shit she does if it weren’t for me. You haven’t done shit for anybody but yourself and your sleazy boyfriend!”

  She slaps me across the face so hard my head whips to the side. The impact stings, but not as much as knowing that my own mother had no hesitation to hit me. It takes everything I have not to hit her back.

  “Do you do that to Taylor?” I hiss.

  She narrows her eyes at me. “She doesn’t have the nerve to talk back to me like her bitch of a sister does. If she deserved it—”

  “Nobody deserves to be abused,” I inform her coldly. “And if you ever hit me again I’m calling the fucking police. Do you understand me?”

  She glares. “You’re just like your father,” she replies, putting out her cigarette. “All talk and no show. Why don’t you get out of my face?”

  I want to remind her that Dad did more than just talk. He got out. He left. I know if I say that, it’ll only make matters worse, since he was the one who jumpstarted this whole thing.

  Taylor shows up then with her backpack. She looks between Mom and me with wide eyes. She knows that Mom is angry, and she probably senses I’m angrier. Instead of letting it get to me, I take Taylor’s hand.

  “Do you have everything? Your homework?”

  She nods, hiding behind me.

  I look at Mom. “You will always be a poor excuse of a mother,” I state before walking out with Taylor by my side.

  The car ride is quick, since I only live across town. The windows are rolled down because of the horrible smell coming from Taylor. I know it isn’t her fault. Mom doesn’t care about anybody but herself anymore, not even with her own child. At first, I thought she was going through some mid-life crisis early, where she thought she could convert all her worries to herself, like she never had kids to begin with.