Dear Ava by Ilsa Madden-Mills

11

I’m nervous when I pull into the parking lot of Lou’s. My heart is jumping in my chest at the prospect of seeing her, and it’s so wrong. Chance flashes through my head, his broken words to Ava and, shit, just the way he stared at her with his heart in his eyes. About time he tried to apologize, but I wasn’t surprised she refused him. Considering what happened to her and how he let her down, I’m not sure forgiveness is in the cards.

There’s a wall around me, but she’s got one up too.

She’s the eye of a hurricane, the winds of her pain whipping around her.

I pop my visor down to look in the mirror and straighten my freshly showered hair, tugging on it to soften the right side of my face. Here goes nothing. I exit and stop for a moment in front of the glass door, checking my reflection. Jeans and a tight shirt that shows off my arms—check. Cologne she says she hates but really loves—check.

This isn’t a date, asshole.

Uh-huh.

So why am I rippling with anxiousness?

My palms are clammy when I open the door to Lou’s, which is in a really shitty part of town.

A grizzly-looking man with a beard in a stained white apron sits behind the counter. He gives me a hard once-over. His lips tighten. “She’s sitting in the back.”

I nod. Okay, so he knows who I am and he doesn’t like my puss at all. Fine, fine. Not here for him, and I can’t even blame him.

My steps are too damn eager as I walk to the back of the diner and slide into the red booth across from her. I saw her in class today, but we had a pop quiz over The Wizard of Oz and there wasn’t time for talking. She ate lunch with Wyatt and Piper, clear across the cafeteria from the Shark table. I watched her, pretending I wasn’t when Dane asked me why I was distracted.

Wearing frayed cut-off shorts and a faded yellow Sex Pistols shirt, she’s heartbreakingly beautiful. Her hair swings softly around her shoulders, and I feel a pang for the blonde style she wore last year. I may have had a weakness for her hair. Stupid.

“You’re early. Eager to get started?” she murmurs, setting her laptop aside and looking over at me.

Clearing my throat, I check out the interior of the diner. Cracked linoleum on the floor, walls that need another coat of blue paint, old Formica booths, and a dingy metal napkin holder next to those generic squeezable mustard and ketchup containers. A dark hallway at the back leads to a narrow space where I imagine the restrooms are. It’s not an ideal place to be alone with her for the first time without anyone from school here, but I’ll take it.

I settle in, stretching out my legs. My foot brushes hers under the table and she subtly pulls it back while I mutter an apology. “Yeah. Guess you still beat me here. Did you work a shift?”

“Not today. I saw Tyler earlier. He lives nearby at the group home. How did you know I worked here?”

Oh, Ava. I know so much.

I wave her off.

“How is he doing at Camden Prep?”

Her head cocks. “Dude, how you’d even know he was there?”

I shrug and bite back a smile at her dude. She’s getting more comfortable with me with each little moment. Is that what I want? Right now, in this moment, fuck yeah.

“Trask emailed the board and asked for a scholarship for him. My dad is on the board. He mentioned it.” Several times. That was a strange phone call on Monday when I heard the hesitant tone in Dad’s voice as he asked me if Ava was really back. Since he is on the board, he also knew Trask wanted her back, and although he felt uneasy about it, he voted yes to call her and offer the scholarship for her senior year. Like me, he recalls the spiral Dane went into after the kegger last year.

“I take it he’s found a good place?”

One of her soft smiles graces her face, and I inhale at the effect it has on my insides. “He freaking loves it so much. Loves the administration, the teachers, the kids—everything.”

I finger the menu that’s behind the napkin holder. “That’s why you came back, right? I figure you marched into Trask’s office, bragged about your big brain, maybe tossed in some threats, then asked for him to be a student.”

She chews on her bottom lip. “Why would you think that?”

“You’ve got balls. It’s what I would have done. And I can’t think of any other reason why you’d come back.”

Her lashes flutter for a moment on her cheeks as if what I’ve said makes her feel pleased.

“Wow, Knox. You’ve spent a lot of time thinking about my motives. Glad I’ve been on your mind.”

Only for about three years.

“What can I get you?” It’s the guy from the counter. He scratches at his beard and gives Ava a tender look then throws me a scowl.

She smiles broadly up at him. “Burger and fries for me, Lou. Hold the mayo. Extra tomato. You know how I like it. Coke.”

Bushy brows furrow in my direction. “You?”

“Same. Water to drink.” Dammit. I hate tomatoes. What is wrong with me?

He wanders off and yells to a girl in the kitchen who’s busy over a grill.

“He doesn’t like me.”

She laughs. “Ah, poor Knox, doesn’t have any friends in the city. I’ve worked here for three years, and Lou treats me well.”

“Good.”

She leans in. “I’ll tell you a secret: Lou’s terrified of the nuns when they drop Tyler off here to eat with me. Calls them female Darth Vaders.”

I look back at the burly man and smile. “Really? You should convince one of them to say, ‘Lou, I am your father.’”

She cocks her head. “Cute, but actually that line is misquoted. It’s not ‘Luke, I am your father,’ but simply, ‘I am your father.’ So many good twists in Star Wars, but that line, even after watching it over and over, still sends tingles down my spine. It feels like a lie, like it’s just part of his sick mind games, but Darth Vader is speaking the truth and he knows it will wound Luke and cause him to question everything.”

My lips twitch. “You really are a movie nerd.”

“The best.” She toys with her pencil. “My favorite line of Darth Vader’s is ‘You don’t know the power of the dark side. I must obey my master.’ You can taste the fear in his voice. You see his internal struggle and how, maybe, sometimes, the light still calls to him, yet he can never go back.” She laughs. “Hey, stop. You’re gaping at me. Okay, fine, I geek out over the franchise, which really means I’m in hell, ranking the movies in my head, considering the debatable cuteness of aliens clearly designed for market reasons only, being tortured by the painfully obvious plot holes that drive me insane. Tyler loves them too. He’s just as much of a geek as I am.”

I just look at her. Damn. She’s so fucking… “I’m amazed by you. Rank them for me.”

“You aren’t even ready for this conversation. Have you watched them all?”

I shrug. “Not sure if I caught the last couple.”

“Who are you?” She gives me a horrified look.

I laugh. “Football takes up most of my time.”

She scoffs. “You don’t deserve to hear what I think until you’ve seen every last movie in chronological order, not in the order of release date. Lots of debate about that, but that’s the camp I’m in.”

I let out a long sigh, and just to annoy her… “We really should have gone with Star Wars. You could write us an essay with your eyes closed.”

Her color deepens. “Sadly, you had to pick the right number! So now it’s some stupid romance!”

I laugh.

She watches me, her aquamarine gaze lingering on my face until she clears her throat and looks down at the table. “Are you sad you don’t have friends at Lou’s?”

“Not at all. I’m on a date.”

Her eyes widen. “No you’re not, Cold and Evil. This is a school-related activity!”

“You’re wearing makeup.” She is. Her lashes are long and curled, her cheeks rosy—or maybe she’s blushing—and instead of that glittery red lipstick she’s been wearing, I see shiny pink lip gloss. Lipstick? Whatever they call it.

My lips twitch at her outrage and she slowly softens, her face brightening until she grins. “A girl can wear makeup and it not mean a thing except she wants to feel pretty. And if I had social media, I’d totally tag you with me just to piss off your buddies.”

Sighing, my head goes back to yesterday. “I saw your locker. I’m sorry for it.”

I hate how her face gets that faraway look on it and her shoulders hunch over. “It’s mostly gone. I came in today and it looks like the staff had scrubbed even more.”

Ah… “Chance and I went back into the school after practice yesterday. He scraped the last of it off with a scouring pad. Apparently it was in permanent marker and the janitor had a hard time.”

Her shoulders shift, fidgeting.

“It was Chance’s idea.”

“Whatever. Let’s not bring him up.”

Lou sets down our food and walks away.

She digs into her fries, popping one in her mouth, and I watch. She points at my plate. “Don’t let it get cold.”

Right, right—focus on the food, not Ava.

Okay, how am I going to covertly get these tomatoes off?

“So, you know my middle name. What’s yours?”

“Knox.” I grin. “And before you ask for my first name, I’m not telling. See if you can figure it out.”

“Let’s see. Maximilian? Eugene?”

I bark out a laugh.

“Megalodon?”

“You think I don’t know what that is?” I pop an eyebrow. “I’m not a nerd like some people I know”—I smirk—“but I’m smart enough.”

“Okay, hotshot, what is it?”

“Extinct species of shark that lived over three million or so years ago. Believed to be related to the Great White. And no, that is not my first name, but you’re funny.”

“Richard? Dick for short, definitely.”

“I have an uncle with that name.”

“Fort? Yep, that’s it. You’re a big stone building that holds all the gold and no one can get inside.”

I take a bite of my burger, gag a bit at the tomatoes, chew it down, and wipe my mouth. “Nope. Forget me. Tell me something about you.”

Because Ava…shit, I want to know everything.

She thinks, her brow wrinkling a little.

“Tell me about your first kiss,” I blurt and then immediately wish I hadn’t. Despite my joke earlier about this being a date, it isn’t.

She studies me, eyes lingering over my lips. “You first.”

I take a sip of water. “Fourth grade. Her name was Cissy Meadows and she was the fastest runner on the playground, even the guys. She challenged me to a race at recess and I beat her. She was so pissed.” I laugh at the memory. “She started bawling her eyes out and I felt so bad for her, I laid one on her lips. No tongue. Really just wanted her to stop crying.”

“Did she?”

I grin. “She followed me around for the rest of the year begging me to do it again.”

She narrows her eyes. “And you did.”

“Yeah, lots of times. First girlfriend I guess. By sixth grade, she moved away. Don’t know what ever happened to her. Nice girl.”

“Ah, the early, charmed love life of Fort Knox Grayson.”

I toss a fry at her. “When was yours?”

She mulls it over, and somehow I feel like I’ve done something wrong. It’s just a kiss question, which from me is ironic as hell considering I don’t even enjoy kissing on the lips anymore.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s cool.” Looking down at her plate, she says, “I was maybe twelve, right before Tyler was born. I was in my room—we had an apartment then, with Tyler’s dad. It was a great room, though it was smaller than my dorm here, and I had posters of Taylor Swift and Katy Perry on the walls. I fancied myself a future pop star.” She inserts an eye roll. “Mama had gotten me this karaoke machine from the Goodwill and I was singing when Cooper came to tell me to shut it off.”

My hands clench. “Tyler’s dad?”

She nods. “Mama was trashed and had gone to bed earlier. I knew I shouldn’t have been up and making noise.” Her face pinches. “He was a tall man, burly and mean, but he thought he was handsome. He told me to go to bed and I hopped to it. He pulled the covers up, leaned down, and kissed me on the mouth…” Her voice trails off.

“You don’t have to—”

“No, I want to tell you. It helps, you know, in an odd way. Makes it real.” She sighs. “His breath smelled like cigarettes and liquor. He stuck his tongue in my mouth and his hands…they…I felt them trying to get under the covers.”

Revulsion creates goose bumps on my arms. I picture her, small and young and afraid.

She blinks rapidly. “I kneed him in the nuts and screamed my ass off. The walls were thin in that dump, and maybe he was scared Mama would get up or the neighbors would call the police, or maybe he just chickened out. Either way, he left the room. Honestly, living how we did, I was lucky nothing horrible ever happened to me, which is why the keg party is so frustrating. I protected myself all those years only to be helpless hanging out with a bunch of rich kids.” She plucks at her napkin. “All in all, it could have been worse with the things Mama did for extra cash. Since the moment she left us, all I’ve wanted is to dig myself out of where I came from and find my own way. Be independent, go to college, get a real job, take care of Tyler. Big dreams for a twelve-year-old.” She grimaces. “Dang, I kind of killed the conversation there. Sorry.”

The muscles in my shoulders have tensed, and I roll my head back and forth. Twelve. Fucking twelve years old.

“What happened to him?”

“Cooper? He and Mama left a few days after Tyler was born. Dumped us at the group home. Mama was Catholic, although she never took me to Mass. I owe the nuns for any religion I have. Those two leaving was the best thing that ever happened to us.” She waves her hands. “Topic change! I want to know about this rumor that you only have sex from behind.” She waggles her eyebrows and my body heats, tightening. “Well?”

“Who wants to look at my face?” I say the words lightly, but underneath…

“You’re beautiful,” she murmurs. “Hello, Tawny with the red claws—she was all over you yesterday.”

“I don’t want Tawny.” That ship sailed last year.

She shoots me a furtive look while she chews on a fry. “Oh? Who are you banging on the regular this school year, then?”

“No one.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Truly?”

I pick at my burger. Fucking tomatoes. “Yep.”

“But why? You’re…you, and everyone wants to be a bleacher girl—or so I’ve heard.”

I push my food away. “Saving myself.”

“For marriage? Waiting till you’re a middle-aged has-been who peaked in high school?” She chuckles.

“No.”

“Ah, I get it. Some lucky girl under the bleachers at the first game of senior year. Sweet. Good plan. Typical top Shark behavior. Anticipation…then wham bam, thank you ma’am! Drawing it out.”

A slow blush crawls up from my neck to my cheeks. I still don’t jive with her seeing me. “You gonna come spy on me? Don’t even try. This girl doesn’t do bleachers.”

“Ohhhhhhh, this is good.” She leans in over the table, pushing her plate aside. Turquoise eyes glisten with mirth. “Are you…are you a bit of a romantic, Fort Knox?”

I laugh. “What defines a romantic?”

“Secretly loves rom-coms, listens to moody songs about unrequited feelings, writes pretty love letters and leaves them in girls’ lockers.”

My chest constricts sharply—it feels like I can’t breathe.

She impatiently taps her fingers on the table, and I wait a full minute before answering her.

“Now, Tulip, does that sound like me? I’m just a muscled-up football player who might be a bit dim with too much money, an elitist attitude, and a long line of girls who can’t keep their hands off of me. I mean, can you imagine me writing love letters? I’d just text her.” I pause, taking a sip of my drink. “By the way, someone plastered my number in the girls’ bathroom this week. Knox Grayson’s real cell number. You’re welcome, is what it said. Little hearts all around it.You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“How terrible. Man, you can’t trust anyone these days. Who on earth would do that to you?”

“Ah, Tulip. Don’t pretend. I’m going to have to get you back for that.”

She blushes, not even denying it. “Did anyone call?”

“Hmmm. Twenty texts last night. A few this afternoon. Guess I’ll need a new phone.”

Her face explodes in a huge grin as she slaps her hand on the table. “I’m not sorry. Not even a little.”

“Minx.”

“Guess you aren’t too pissed at me?”

I arch a brow. I was angry when the texts first started coming in, but it only took a little inquiry in reply to one of them to figure out where it came from, and by then it was obvious who the culprit was. Shit, I can’t even be mad at her.

Her eyes flash at me, holding mine. “Back to this girl you’re waiting on—does she go to Camden?”

“Mmmm.”

She pouts. “That’s a noncommittal answer, Fort Knox. Come on, tell me. Your secrets are safe with me.”

“You can’t be trusted with a phone number!”

She laughs.

Lou places down the tab in the middle of the table, and Ava and I both dive for it at the same time. “This is mine,” I say as we both pull on it.

She tugs. “You are not paying. This was my idea!”

I give it a pull. “I totally manipulated you into eating with me. You didn’t even want to hang out with me, but I wore you down.”

“You did—asshole—but I’m paying!”

“No girl pays for me, and I have money—”

“So do I! I work!”

“I know you do! Why are we yelling?” I gasp out.

“I don’t know!” She picks up a fry and tosses it in my face, and when I bat it away, she pounces forward, takes the bill, and waves it at Lou, who’s watching us with his head cocked. “I’m paying, Lou! Don’t let this rich preppy jerk give you money, you feel me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he rumbles then turns to go back to the front. “Don’t take the boy’s money. Let me get on that right away.”

I shrug, holding my hands up. “I give up. You win. I’ll get it next time.”

She doesn’t say anything to that, just rises and gathers her things. I follow her to the front where she pays our tab, gives Lou and the girl behind the grill a hurried hug, and joins me at the door.

We walk out into the night air. Our arms brush, and for once I don’t pull away.

“You wanna ride with me?” I hear myself offering, then regret it. Shit.

She turns to look at me, and I get tense, my palms sweating again, that anxious feeling sticking to me. I think about her sitting in my car with me, the close proximity, the way her hair smells, like vanilla, and how close her arm would be to mine—

“I better not,” she murmurs. “It would be out of your way to come back over here instead of hitting the interstate to get back to Sugarwood.”

“I don’t mind.”

Why can’t I shut up?

Shit, is this me? Shuffling my feet on the gravel, looking at a girl, and wishing…

“I’ll meet you there,” she finally says, her hands clenching the straps of her backpack.

Does it bother her to imagine being alone in a car with me?

I exhale. “Okay. See you there.”

“Try to keep up with me and Louise,” she calls as she sashays away.

“Louise?” My eyes devour her ass. Shapely. Pert. Perfect. I tear my gaze away.

“My car! Named her after Lou!” She gets in and drives away, and I pull out and follow her.