Far From You

38

FOUR AND A HALF MONTHS AGO (SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD)

“We’re gonna be late,” Mina says.

I zip up my boots and pull my jeans down over them. “We’ve got twenty minutes. Chill.”

She collapses on my bed, scattering throw pillows everywhere. She’s wearing a hot pink dress that’s so short, her mom would throw a fit if she saw it—which, of course, is why Mina changed into it at my house. There are little beads on the three-quarter-length sleeves, and they keep catching the light, like she’s twinkling.

She props herself up on her elbow, her hair spilling over her shoulder, a dark mass of brown curls against the pink. “Are you sure you want to wear those jeans? You should wear the black skinny ones. Tuck them into your boots.”

“I can barely breathe in the skinny ones.”

“But you look so good in them.”

I size her up, suspicious of her sudden interest in my clothes. “Is there something about tonight you’re not telling me?” I ask. There’s nothing Mina loves more than a surprise. “Why do I need to be dressed up? You’re not planning a welcome-home party, are you? Mina, I hate that sort of thing.”

“Which is why I stopped myself,” Mina says. “It’s just burgers with Kyle and Trev. I already told you.”

I shoot her a look. “Okay, but I think you’re acting weird.”

“And I think you should change.”

“Not going to happen.”

“At least put on some lip gloss.”

“What’s with you?” I ask as I pull my sweater on. “It’s just Trev and your boyfriend.” Every time I call Kyle her boyfriend, it gets easier. I’ve been practicing it in front of the mirror.

“You’re so pretty.” Mina gets up from the bed to paw through my jewelry box. “And you spend half of your life dressing so boring because you think it’ll make people notice you less.”

“Maybe I don’t want people to notice me.”

“That’s my whole point.” Mina holds a pair of silver hoops up to her ears in front of the mirror, turning her head back and forth before discarding them. “You want to hide. It’s unfair to yourself.”

“I’m not the one who wants to hide, Mina,” I say, and she fumbles and drops the necklace she’s picked up.

“I’m going downstairs,” she says flatly. “We should leave soon.”

Trev and Kyle are already sitting in a booth when we get there. Angry Burger is busy, packed with college students home for the weekend, a big group shooting pool in the corner, Corona bottles stuffed with lime wedges clutched in their free hands. They haven’t updated the music on the jukebox in forever; it’s always twangy, old-school country, heavy on the banjo.

Mina slides into the spot next to Kyle while Trev gets up from the chipped oak booth.

I’ve been home from Oregon for a week. This is the first time I’ve seen him, and I’m surprised at how happy I am. Trev is simple. Easy. Exactly what I need tonight, after days of Mina’s doublespeak and guarded glances.

He hugs me, and it’s comforting, like Trev always is.

“Good to see you, Soph,” he says, and I can feel the rumble in his chest where it’s pressed against mine.

“How’s school?” I ask him as we sit down. I’m determined to focus on Trev instead of Kyle and the way he’s got his arm slung across the back of the booth behind Mina like he owns it. Owns her.

“Busy,” Trev says.

“Trev’s been building a boat,” Mina puts in.

“Another one?” I ask.

He’d rebuilt a trashed catboat after the accident, and sometimes I’d go to the dock to keep him company. It was the only time, still fresh from the crash, that I could be around him and not feel assaulted by the weight of his guilt. His focus, for once, had been on fixing something other than me.

It took him months, repairing the smashed hull and broken spars. When he’d finally finished, he took us out, just him and me and Mina, for her maiden voyage. I’d watched him brush his fingers over his boat like he was touching a holy thing and I’d understood him in a way I never had before. Realized that he and I were cemented together, almost as much as Mina and I.

“You should see the line of girls at the docks every weekend,” Mina says, snickering. “They loll around frying in the sun and watch him—it’s ridiculous. If he took his shirt off, I think they’d have a collective fit. Disgusting.” She flicks water at Trev, sticking her tongue out.

Trev rolls his eyes while Kyle laughs. “Right on, man.”

“Brat,” Trev says to Mina.

“You should go out there, Soph. Scare ’em off.” Mina nudges me with her foot underneath the table, and all the easy energy, the comforting familiarity of Mina and Trev’s teasing, dissipates in a second.

I can’t stop the way I go white, can’t stop Trev noticing my reaction. I wonder if he sees the way she looks at me, how every shred of her attention is on me, the bitterness in her smile, desperate and so damned scared. Can he even understand what she’s doing to me—to all of us?

And because she’s Mina, she just won’t stop.

“Kyle and I need a couple to double-date with. It’s perfect. Wouldn’t that be fun, baby?”

“Sure,” Kyle says.

I can feel Trev’s eyes on me, but I can’t rip my gaze away from her as I say, “I’ll be right back.”

Not a ripple on her face. She keeps looking at me like that until I’m half-ready to launch myself across the table at her.

“Good idea. We should freshen up.” She slings her purse over her shoulder and throws a smile at Kyle. It’s her Fine, Just Fine smile. Kyle can’t tell she’s bullshitting, but I can—and so can Trev, who frowns as he tries to figure out why I’m so upset, why she’s so triumphant.

She saunters across the restaurant toward the ladies’ room like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Like she didn’t just try to set me up with her brother, like she isn’t screwing with me (and with him) in the worst possible way.

Mina likes to play with fire.

But I’m the one who gets burned.