Lying Out Loud

Chapter 19

It was an almost-seven-hour drive from Hamilton to Bianca’s grandfather’s cabin in Tennessee.

And it was possibly the most painful seven hours of my life.

Though I would say the feeling was mutual for everyone in the car, for one reason or another.

To start with, Wesley insisted on taking the Porsche.

“There are four of us,” Bianca argued. We were standing outside the Rushes’ house the next morning, ready to go.

Amy hadn’t said a word to me since she’d kicked me out of her room the night before.

“There are four seats,” Wesley said.

“Are you actually counting that backseat as a seat?” Bianca asked. “Because, having sat back there before, I’d beg to differ.”

“Well, we can’t take your car,” he said, picking up her duffel bag and tossing it into the trunk. Although, is it called a trunk when it’s at the front of the car? I was really confused about this, but it didn’t seem like the appropriate time to ask. “You still haven’t gotten that heater fixed. And I know Sonny’s car is out of the shop, but do you really trust that thing to get us across state lines?” He picked up my little suitcase and shoved it into the trunk, too. It was a really small trunk, and I wasn’t sure all of our stuff would fit.

“What about Amy’s car?” Bianca asked.

Wesley put the last bag into the trunk and, with what seemed like great effort, shut the hood. “Too late,” he said. “We’re already packed.”

Bianca groaned. “You’re such an ass.”

“An ass with a nice car.”

“A nice, impractical car.”

“And having a broken heater for three years is practical?”

“I’m hardly ever home to drive the thing!”

I glanced over at Amy, who — rather pointedly, if I may say so — did not look at me.

Since Bianca and I were the vertically challenged members of this foursome, we were placed in the, as previously noted, tiny-as-hell backseat. My knees were cramping within ten minutes, and we had a long way to go.

And in a car that small, there was no hiding the tension between two best friends who were not on speaking terms. Particularly when the other two passengers were of a bantering nature.

“Oh my God, Wesley,” Bianca said. “We are not listening to this shit all the way to Tennessee.”

“Billy Joel is hardly ‘shit,’ thank you.”

“I like Billy Joel, but not seven hours of Billy Joel.” Bianca turned to me. “He’s been obsessed with ‘New York State of Mind’ for months. I can’t anymore. Sonny, Amy, back me up.”

But Amy just shrugged, and I felt too weird arguing with either Bianca or Wesley, even if it was in jest. My gut was telling me to keep my mouth shut for once. At least around Amy. My foolish hope was that if I was quiet long enough, she’d cool down about last night’s little discovery. I didn’t want to fan the flames by saying something unintentionally infuriating.

“Silence?” Wesley asked. “Really? From you two?”

“Seriously,” Bianca said. “Are you guys okay?”

“I’m fine,” Amy said. But there was that little inflection, that slightly clipped tone, that told me she definitely wasn’t.

“Me, too,” I mumbled.

“Okay …,” Wesley said.

I noticed his and Bianca’s eyes meet in the rearview mirror.

This went on forever. And Bianca and Wesley just didn’t know when to give it a rest.

“No, that wasn’t our exit, Bianca. I’m positive.”

“Excuse me? Who in this car has actually been to this cabin before?”

“And who has the worse sense of direction?”

“I do not.”

“You got lost in midtown Manhattan. This year. You’ve been going to school there for how long?”

“It could happen to anyone.”

“The streets are numbered,” Wesley pointed out. “It’s a grid.”

“I might trust you more if you used the GPS on your phone to get us there.”

“I can’t. The voice is annoying.”

“Your voice is annoying,” Bianca snorted.

“Aw. I love you, too.”

She laughed. “Okay, let’s ask the rest of the car. Ladies, who do you trust to get you to the cabin safely? The person who has been there before —”

“And who gets lost in her own dorm building.”

“Shut up. That’s not even true.” Bianca cleared her throat. “The person who has actually been there, or the cocky jerk who won’t even use a GPS?”

But all they got were shrugs.

They made a few more attempts before finally giving up on convincing Amy or me to speak.

They talked a little more, but eventually even they fell silent, swallowed up by the potent blend of hostility and unease filling the cab of the Porsche.

Even as my knees ached, I stayed as still as possible, worried my movements may jostle the back of Amy’s seat. It was dumb, I knew. It wasn’t like nudging her a little to get comfortable would make her hate me any more than she already did, but the fear had crept up inside of me and wrapped itself around my chest like a boa constrictor.

The wide, flat highways eventually turned into narrow, winding back roads that twisted their way through rolling, faintly blue hills. My anxiety and aching knees aside, it was a beautiful drive.

At long, long last, Wesley made a turn onto a gravel driveway that twisted through tall trees before coming to a stop in front of a quaint little cabin.

It was small but well kept. The front porch had a swing in one corner, and a layer of snow covered the roof. Honestly, it looked like the picture you’d find on a Hallmark Christmas card.

“Oh, thank God,” I heard Bianca mutter under her breath as Wesley shut off the ignition.

Ditto, I thought.

The four of us climbed out of the car and retrieved our stuff from the front-trunk. Bianca found the hidden key beneath the doormat and unlocked the door.

The interior was pretty plain, but cozy. There was an old box TV, a fireplace, and a hallway that led back to the bedrooms.

Of which there were only two.

Which meant I was back to sharing with Amy.

“This will be your room,” Bianca said, opening the door to the smaller of the two rooms. It was plain, too, with a small closet and a queen-size bed shoved up against the far wall.

Amy and I glanced at each other, then back at the small room.

“Yeah,” Bianca said slowly. “I’m gonna let you two settle in.” And then she ducked out of there so fast she might have been mistaken for a cartoon character on the run.

I shut the door behind her before turning to Amy and offering a small smile.

“Cute house,” I said.

“Yeah.”

“It’ll be a fun trip.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Nice to get away for a few days.”

“Definitely.”

That was all I could get out of her: one-word answers.

But it wasn’t as if she was like this with everyone. As the first night and next day wore on, I caught her talking to Bianca and to her brother, laughing with them, even. But the minute I entered the room, her mouth shut.

She’d been distant since Black Friday, but nothing like this.

And with no cell phone service and nowhere else to go, it didn’t take long for the silence to start getting to me.

It was freezing in the mountains.

Although it was far colder inside the cabin than out.

Bianca and Wesley tried to fill the silence with banter and mock arguments. Or maybe not “mock” arguments. It was always hard to tell with them. I wasn’t sure how aware they were of the intense teen angst that was brewing, but I had to give them some credit for attempting to defuse the awkward.

Still, I spent most of my time outside, hiking in the snow and bitter wind. Melancholy mood aside, I couldn’t deny how pretty the mountains were. They were blue and misty, and more low and rounded than I’d realized. They’d been quite aptly dubbed the Smoky Mountains, because they really did look like billowing puffs of smoke.

On the afternoon of New Year’s Eve, I headed out of the cabin for another hike. My skin was dry and cracked from all the hours I’d spent in the freezing cold over the past few days, but it was the only way to keep from going insane.

So I put on my boots and pulled a hat down over my curls before heading out the door.

And ran right into Bianca and Wesley.

Making out on the porch.

“Jesus,” I said as they broke apart. Bianca looked appropriately sheepish. Wesley, on the other hand, just grinned. “You two have your own room. In the house. Where it’s warm.”

Bianca cleared her throat and shook the car keys in her hand. “I was just … on my way. You need anything from the grocery store, Sonny? I’m getting lots of snacks for the ball drop.”

“Thanks, but I’m good. Not really feeling that festive.”

Bianca and Wesley glanced at each other, then she started backing off the porch. “Well, give me a call if you change your mind.”

“There’s no cell reception,” Wesley reminded her.

“Then I hope you don’t change your mind. I’ll be back.”

She hopped off the porch, her feet crunching in the snow, and unlocked Wesley’s car before sliding inside.

“You let her drive the Porsche?” I asked him.

“I let her do whatever she wants,” he said.

I wasn’t sure if there was a lascivious note in that response or not.

We watched as the Porsche drove off, disappearing down the long, winding driveway. Once it had gone, I started down the wooden steps. “See you later.”

Wesley followed me. “Where are you going?”

“On a hike.”

“I’ll join you.”

It wasn’t a question.

We made our way around the side of the cabin, toward the thickest part of the woods and some of the best trails. Snow clung to the bare, skeleton trees, some higher than any I’d ever seen. Neither of us spoke for a few minutes, and I started to think that this walk might actually pass in silence. But, of course, this was Wesley. He wasn’t known for being quiet.

Or for minding his own business.

“So what’s going on with you and Amy?”

“What do you mean?”

But even I, convincing as I typically was, couldn’t play dumb on this. Especially not with Wesley, who’d known both of us since we were toddlers.

“Come on,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You’ve barely spoken since we got here. Amy might be the quiet type, but you are most definitely not.”

“That doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with me and Amy.”

“Yes, it does,” Wesley said. “She’s acting weird, too. Come on. Just tell me. I’ll nag you until you do.”

Unfortunately, I knew he wasn’t bluffing. I also knew that if I didn’t tell him on this walk, he’d get Bianca in on helping him and I’d never escape. Might as well get it over with.

I shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my coat. “It’s … it’s about a boy.”

Wesley raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? A guy is what’s coming between you two?”

“No,” I said. “Well … yes. But not in the way you think. It’s complicated. Amy doesn’t like him. I do.”

“So what’s the problem, then?”

“It’s complicated.”

“As you’ve said. But we have lots of time to hike. Which means lots of time for you to explain.”

God, he was persistent. How the hell did Bianca put up with it?

I ducked under a low-hanging tree branch, both to avoid his eyes and to save myself from getting smacked in the face. “He’s new in Hamilton, and he’s kind of a tool. I thought I hated him, but then I got to know him and he’s not so bad…. He’s kind of great, actually.”

“Doesn’t sound too complicated so far.”

“Well, here’s where it starts, then, because he likes Amy.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Wesley thought about this for a long moment as we wove between the trees, our feet sinking deep into the snow. “Does this guy — this kind of a tool, kind of great guy — know that you like him?”

I shook my head.

“So how do you know that he doesn’t like you?”

“Please excuse me while I have horrifying middle school flashbacks triggered entirely by this conversation.”

He laughed. “Fine. Better question. Why do you like him?”

“He’s …” I smiled a little as a snowflake drifted down and landed on the tip of my nose. “He’s a lot like me. He gets me in a way a guy never has before. And I think I get him, too.”

Wesley grinned. “Wow,” he said. “That’s shockingly sentimental coming from you. I’ve never heard you say something so heartfelt about anyone besides Amy.”

I might have blushed if my face wasn’t moments from becoming an ice cube.

“You should tell him how you feel,” he said. It was so nonchalant. So casual. Like what he was suggesting was the simplest thing in the world.

I had no idea he was so dumb.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s complicated.”

“We’ve already established this.”

I bit my lip.

“From what you’ve said, it sounds like he might feel the same way about you.”

“I’ve barely said anything,” I pointed out. “And, no. He likes Amy. She’s sweet and gorgeous and I’m …”

“You’re what?”

He wasn’t letting me off the hook.

“And I’m … not Amy.”

Wesley stopped and put his gloved hand on my arm, turning me to face him. I had to tilt my head up to meet his eyes.

“Okay,” he said. “Listen to me. First, stop comparing yourself to Amy.”

“There’s no comparison —”

“Stop.” He glared at me, daring me to speak again. I didn’t, and he continued. “You’ve got to stop sizing yourself up. I know it seems like it matters now — I used to think so, too — but it doesn’t. Trust me.”

I rolled my eyes. That was easy for him to say. He was a Rush. He was gorgeous and well liked. And it wasn’t like I thought I was hideous or anything. I just knew that someone who found Amy attractive probably wouldn’t be as interested in me.

“Second,” Wesley said, drawing my attention back. “Are you really going to let this get between you and my sister?”

Guilt twisted my stomach, and I swallowed. “I don’t want it to.”

“Then don’t,” he said. “This guy might be as great as you say, but you two have something special. You’ve been inseparable from the minute you met. Like peanut butter and jelly.”

“Ew.”

“Right. I forget you don’t like peanut butter and jelly … but Amy never forgets. Did you know that when our parents took you two to the beach as kids, Amy would make your sandwiches herself? Dad would always forget and make peanut butter and jelly for everyone. So Amy would make you a different sandwich and pack it herself.”

I looked down at my feet. I didn’t know that, but it didn’t surprise me.

“I don’t know exactly what’s going on with you two,” he admitted. “I don’t know how this guy figures into it. But I do know that both of you will regret it if you don’t fix things.”

“She won’t talk to me,” I said. “How can I fix things if she won’t talk to me?”

“Be patient with her,” he said. “You know Amy. She’s not like you and me. Sometimes it takes her a while to put words to what she’s feeling. She’ll come to you when she’s ready.”

“Yeah,” I said, sighing. “You’re right.”

“I know. I usually am.”

I snorted. “Whatever you say.”

“Come on. Let’s head back to the house. Bianca will kill me if I die of frostbite at her grandfather’s cabin.”

“But you’d already be dead, so …”

“That wouldn’t stop her.”

We got turned around a few times on the way back — in our conversation, both Wesley and I had forgotten to pay attention to where we were going. Just when morbid thoughts of the Donner Party were starting to pop into my head, we spotted the cabin and made our way toward it.

We rounded the corner of the cabin just as his Porsche began making its way up the driveway.

“Hey, Sonny. Seriously, just tell the guy how you feel,” Wesley said, even though that conversation had long since been dropped.

“But —”

“And don’t assume you know how he feels,” he said firmly. “You can’t read his mind. Give him a chance. He might surprise you.” He smiled, watching Bianca as she climbed from the car.

“Hey,” she yelled, waving him over. “Are you gonna come help me with these groceries or not?”

His smile turned to a grin as he hurried to her, our conversation clearly completely vanishing from his mind. “What’s in it for me?” he asked as she rolled her eyes and shoved a bag into his hands.

I hung back, watching them for a long moment. Wesley’s words had left me a little a stunned. Ryder had said almost the exact same thing when he encouraged me to contact my dad.

And he’d sort of implied it about me.

Maybe Wesley was right. Maybe Ryder would surprise me if I just gave him a chance.

And as for Amy, I just needed to be patient. She’d come to me eventually, and we’d work things out when she did.