Imperfectly Yours Page 4

  “You have a boyfriend?”

  I laugh. Do I have a boyfriend? This thing between Dane and me, what is it? We are together but we aren’t. We speak to each other, but in secret. Is that even a relationship? Does he even love me because he’s never said it.

  “Not really,” I blurt out. I have to let him go. I have to move on or all this cutting pain in my chest will stay forever.

  “Good news for me then,” he responds. “What’s your name?”

  “Mikki.” The new Mikki, and she’s nothing like the old one.

  “Oh . . .” He wrinkles his nose and takes a sip of his drink. “Not that one I read about in the paper?”

  “What? I’m in the paper?” That’s something I’d normally obsess over, even leave the party for just to find a copy and dissect every line written about me. My head feels like it’s floating - buzzing. I don’t care. “Sweet.”

  “You’re not with that Haskell guy, are you?” His question doesn’t strike me the least bit odd.

  “Hell no!” I hear myself laughing again. This time as loud as Zanna.

  “Then what’s the deal? I read that you were the last one to see him.” He grabs a bottle of something and refills my cup. The liquid feels like it’s weighing down my hand so I drink it. All of it. It burns going down.

  “Yeah,” I giggle.

  “What did he say?” His eyes move from my face and skim down the body of my dress. He likes the way I look, and he likes me. I attempt to flick my hair like I’ve seen Paige do in Algebra class. I slip a little and he grabs my arm. “Careful babe.”

  “He said he had to go. Can I get another?” I hold up my cup.

  “Go where?” He fills it to the top again.

  “Somewhere. I have no idea.”

  “Is that all he said?” he eagerly asks.

  “Yeah.” I gulp down another cup full. “But if you ask me . . . he seemed . . . weird.” I feel my heel move and push me forward. I’m in his arms now. His touch is satisfying, though different compared to Dane’s. Forget about Dane.

  “I don’t think I understand.”

  “His dad,” I go on. “He’s the reason he left . . . he seemed kinda funny.” My legs swing out from under me. He’s holding me now. My head spins like I’m riding a carousel. My eyelids feel heavy.

  “And that’s all you remember?”

  “Uh-huh.” I close my eyes and see the two of us dancing together in the moonlight. It’s perfect and it all seems so real.

  I see Zanna. Her lips are moving but I can’t hear what she’s saying. The music in my head has gone dull. I try to open my mouth but I don’t think it’s working. No matter. I have nothing to say to her. I close my eyes again and let the silence surround me like a cocoon. I can sleep peacefully now. My mind can wander to other places that don’t involve Dane or my severed heart.

  Chapter Ten

  “He lied.”

  Shut up, Scar.

  I know she’s talking but the words reach my brain in spurts. She’s not making any sense and all I want to do is sleep. The more my eyes open the more my head pounds.

  “Mikki. Listen to me. I’m going out okay.”

  “Eh,” I mumble back. I hear her slam the front door and it echoes through my ears like a jet engine. Now that I’m awake my head hurts too much to fall back asleep. I sit up and shield my eyes from the rays of light escaping from between the blinds. What happened last night seems like a faraway memory . . . well, the parts I can remember.

  I stumble as I force myself to my feet. I’m still wearing the dress. Looking at my reflection, I can’t believe I left the house like this. I look like a total skank - a Paige Haskell wannabe. I rub my head and the feelings come rushing back. The tightness in my chest. The piercing pain in my heart. The brick in my stomach. I’m stuck in a flood, and I feel as if I might drown.

  I need water and an aspirin.

  My feet carry me to the kitchen.

  It’s a relief that Scarlett isn’t here watching me reach for the fridge handle for the tenth time. I can’t tell when I’m grabbing it. How does Zanna do this every weekend? She must have a stomach made of steel.

  My hand finally finds a glass and a pill from the medicine cabinet. I sit at the kitchen table to steady myself. Otherwise I might fall and crack my head open on the tile. The night has come and gone and I’m still at square one.

  This blows.

  I rest my hand on my forehead. My fingers fumble over a mess of papers and Scarlett’s empty coffee cup. The paper. Scar insists on reading it in print instead of online like everyone else. Why is that striking a cord?

  A face flashes in my head. He had dark hair and dark eyes. He had piercings and a studded jacket, and the way he studied my expressions made me feel like I knew him already.

  What else?

  We talked . . . about Dane. He asked about us - if there was an us.

  Ugh!

  What the hell was his name?

  I concentrate on the headline on page one. The words are starting to make a little sense. I can actually read them if I put all my brain power into it. Ouch. Ocean storms. A burglary on Main Street. But nothing about me.

  That’s what he said. The newspaper. He read about me in the newspaper. My eyes scan every page and my fingers flip through the entire thing at lightning speed. Nothing. My name isn’t anywhere and why would it be? I’m a nobody.

  He lied.

  My head pounds even more. I’m such an idiot. I need some air. My feet take me back to my bedroom where I wiggle out of my party dress. I can breath a little easier. I need more alcohol to numb my brain or I might go mad. I grab my phone and dial up Zanna.

  “Zanna,” I blurt out. “Zanna, I’m coming over.”

  “Whoa,” she responds. “Keep your voice down, you psycho. You must have a nasty hangover this morning.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “A bit,” she chuckles. “But I wasn’t as plastered as you were. I bet you don’t remember what you said to your boy?” Her chuckles turns into a laugh. My eyes widen.

  “You remember the guy I was with?”

  “Yeah,” she replies. “Hottie.”

  “Did you catch his name?” I bite the inside of my cheek waiting for her reply.

  “Uh . . . no. I’ve never seen him before actually.”

  “Of course,” I sigh. “Look, I’m coming over.”

  “I’ll make you my magic hangover cure.”

  “Not what I had in mind but I’ll take it.”

  My phone buzzes.

  “See you soon.” I hang up and glance at the text.

  No way.

  It’s from Dane. And it’s a single word.

  Bristlecone.

  Mikki's journey continues in Imperfectly Yours: Volume 2.

  Other Works by the author:

  Imperfectly Yours (Volumes 1-4) . . . available summer 2013

  The Engagement Game . . . now available

  Author Contact:

  gardnerbooks@yahoo.com