The Masks We Wear by Lee Jacquot

 

THIRTY THREE

 

It’s the warmth of the sun on my face that wakes me up. Deep yellow rays penetrate the thin hotel curtains, blinding me with its light. The world’s natural alarm and most annoying thing to see after a hangover.

I groan, rolling over and drawing the sheets over my face. Why I decided to let them talk me into some tequila World of Warcraft game, I’ll never know. Since I don’t play the damn game, I was the first one to drink. Every. Single. Time. After my sixth shot, I bowed out.

Then, there was that fucking dream.

Lily.

Like the juice of the forbidden apple, it still coats my tongue in its sweetness. It’s the type of taste you can’t get enough of, easy to get addicted to… to love. The memory of her warm body writhing beneath me, arching into me like she couldn’t get enough, and her orgasm... Fuck. It was amazing watching her completely unravel, shedding years of built-up anger in a single moment.

Right before Lily came, her toes curled so tight, three of them popped. And when I looked up, her nose was scrunched up in the cutest way—I actually had to look back down to keep from smiling.

Groaning again, I roll on my side, releasing my throbbing dick from being trapped under my thighs.

And then I hear it. A light stifled giggle.

My body tenses and everything I thought was a fucking dream slaps me in the face.

“Hey.” Her voice isn’t too far, and it’s a tone I haven’t heard from her. Light, sweet, dripping with affection.

I’m in the fucking twilight zone. I know it.

“Hey.” My voice, on the other hand, is hoarse, what I imagine a zombie would sound like rising from the dead.

“How are you feeling?”

That evokes a throaty laugh from the back of my throat. I throw the cover off and let my eyes focus.

Lily’s sitting in the armchair next to the bed, legs clad in skin-tight ripped jeans, crossed, and a slightly oversized band tee draped off one shoulder. Those blonde locks I’m coming to like, are tied into a messy, yet adorable bun on the top of her head.

And her eyes. Seeing the chestnut hue for the second day in a row feels like winning the fucking lottery. They are lighter than I remember, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out how she doesn’t love them. But when she tilts her head, she reveals dark shadows beneath them. Like she didn’t sleep... at all.

“Are you okay?” I try my best to hide the sudden alarm tightening my vocal cords.

What if she regrets everything? I know where she stands with me and how much I care, but the same can’t be said for her. She may have gotten me out of her system and is ready to move on.

Forget.

Thankfully Lily speaks, pulling me from the thoughts trying to drown me. “I did a midnight run to Wally World. And I made you something.”

What?

I rewind and replay what she just said at least seven times before letting my brows furrow. She squirms like she’s nervous. Lily Conley. Queen of Emerald Falls. Nervous.

“It was a real invasion of privacy, so I’m really hoping you don’t get pissed off. But I really wanted to do something special. To kind of close the chapter of who we were before yesterday.”

There’s a full blush across her cheeks, but it stops right before her ears. She’s being genuine. She grasps her necklace and draws it back and forth, chewing on her bottom lip.

Now she whispers. “We missed breakfast, so everyone is getting on the buses in about ten minutes. I’m going to load up. So hurry down.”

She’s up and out the door before I even have a chance to get up. The combination of the lingering liquor, the fact my dream was real, and what just happened has my head reeling, to say the least.

I stretch my arms above my head, reveling in the way my back cracks down my spine. When I stretch across to grab my phone on the side table, a note rests on top.

Pulling it toward me without getting up yet, I unfold it and read Lily’s script.

I read the letter several times over, letting the words seep into my bloodstream and carry the euphoric tingle throughout my entire body. There’s no way this is real, no way I’m not still asleep.

Finally, I sit up and notice two leather-bound books under my phone. Moving it, I grab the top one and open it to more script.

My hands are shaking, and my heart is in my throat, but I flip the page. And the moment my eyes settle on the first picture, the world crashes down around me.

It’s a scrapbook. A fucking scrapbook of my bucket list trip with my mom. Standing on the Great Wall of China. Shoveling our face with Pitas from Rome. Posing under the Waterfall in Niagara. Every single picture. Printed, cut, glued, and labeled.

The amount of time it must have taken her to fucking do this, twice, is unreal. I needed one sign. Just one. No matter how small, that I was still somehow in her heart. And she gave me two galaxy-sized signals. My heart speeds up, hammering in my chest like it wants to jump out, find her, and burrow itself behind her ribs.

I grab the second book, and it’s identical to the first. The only difference is the writing on the front.

Hot tears flow down my cheeks, that same erratic heart now swelling so big I fear it may actually bust through my sternum. But I push through, flipping every page and tracing my finger down my mother’s beautiful face.

Any wall, any fucking reservation or hesitation I might have had, crumbles into dust. Liliana was always there, deep beneath the mask, even when I started to doubt it myself. And there is no way in hell I’m giving that up again.

I shove my things in my bag, doing quick work to get dressed and brush my teeth. My leg bounces the entire elevator ride, and when the door finally slides open, I haul ass outside.

Lily is talking to Remy, her back to me. But the closer I get, her spine suddenly stiffens, as if she can feel me, and she swings around.

I don’t wait, dropping my bag and keeping my pace. She jumps at the perfect moment, my beautiful little cheerleader, and lands right in my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist. Our mouths collide in an unapologetic, hungry kiss. I steal every breath she has, squeezing her as hard as I can to make sure I’m not dreaming.

“Mr. Hanes. Miss Conley.” Mr. Jones clears his throat.

Lily smiles against my mouth, unlatching her legs and sliding down my waist. I hold on to her hips, helping lower her down until her Converse hits the pavement. There’s a fresh burn of tears teetering on the edge of my eyes.

The ends of her lip curl and she brushes the wayward hair from my face. “So, you liked it?”

“Fucking loved it. Thank you… so fucking much, Lily.”

“Language, Mr. Hanes. Now, let’s go.”

I kiss Lily again before turning to grab my bag and load the bus. We sit in the seats next to Remy, who holds her hands out impatiently. “I have to see this. Gimme, gimme.”

“Yeah, of course.”

Lily scooches next to the window, resting her head on the glass, watching as I pluck out one of the books. Remy takes it, opens it, and gasps. “It’s so beautiful, Lily, oh my goodness. Oh, Spencer, what’s that?”

She’s pointing to a tapestry from a workshop we went to in India. It’s a kaleidoscope of colors, handcrafted by some of the most incredible women. I explain it to her, then she flips the page and asks about another. Soon, I’m lost in the conversation, describing the details I tried to on the phone but couldn’t.

When I look back at Lily, she’s asleep, her chest rising and falling in a steady tempo, soft hums coming from her button nose. And it’s right then, I know.

This is the thirty-sixth time I know I love her.

WHEN WE ARRIVE at the school, I reluctantly part ways with her and promise to meet her tonight after my celebration dinner with my dad.

The dinner is nice but depressing as hell without my mother. He didn’t want to get her since it was her first weekend there, deciding to let her settle in and calm down. My dad spends the whole time talking, excited about the future, while I push around my food, taking small bites here and there. I try my best to smile when needed and maintain at least a semi-content mood. But after spending three months as a family, to have it disappear in twenty- four hours… it didn’t really mesh well with my chicken marsala.

Still, I try my best to wear a smile, nodding my head when needed, mutter thanks after compliments and answer questions in full sentences.

When we get home, I shed the dress clothes at my door, tugging on something comfortable, and drift to the window. Lily’s light is off, and I wonder vaguely if she crashed earlier, still tired from being awake all night.

I open my window, and the smell of damp earth and ozone blows inside. It’s hard to see in the dark, but heavy clouds hang overhead, painting the black sky with fluffs of gray and hues of purple. I contemplate just letting her rest and texting her tomorrow when I hear it.

It’s low at first, muffled through the brick exterior. But then it comes again, even louder.

Was that a scream?

Just then, fissures open up the sky, drowning our backyards in a blanket of white as lighting rips through it. The rain pours through, pummeling to the ground as if its plan is to drive right through to the core.

I grab my phone and call Lily, a sudden overwhelming sensation of dread works its way up my spine into the darkest part of my thoughts.

No answer.

Calling again, I shove on boots and grab my windbreaker, pulling on the hood.

No answer.

Another crack of lightning pierces through the sky, stretching its electric fingers in every direction.

Fuck.

I leap from the window, ignoring the harsh winds slapping across my face on the way down.

Sirens.

Fuck!

I’m through the back gate, around the side, and in the front door within seconds. I don’t really know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this.

Lily is against the wall, holding her stomach and sporting a fresh raw bruise on the right side of her chin. Her mother, the head custodian at Falls High, is on the ground, screaming in Spanish, struggling under the knee of a... she looks like an older version of Lily. Her long blonde hair has streaks of white that whip back and forth as she struggles to keep her down.

Her big brown eyes flash to me, then to Lily and back again. She yells through the screams of Mrs. Conley. “Spencer, I need you to take Lily. Now!”

I jolt upright, not thinking twice, and scoop Lily in my arms, cradling her to my wet chest, and push out the back door.

The rain thrashes against me as I run to the closest place I know will make her feel safe. I somehow manage to climb up the wobbly stairs and into the treehouse.

Shuffling on my knees, I take her to one of the beanbags, but as I set her down, she clings to me, shivering violently. “Lily, I have to get you some clothes.”

She shakes her head against my chest, bunching my jacket’s soaked fabric in her tiny hands. I relent, rocking her back and forth, waiting until her breaths are even.

The storm rages on outside, the sirens sailing through the air for what feels like forever until finally, they stop. That’s when Lily releases me, leaning back into the beanbag, one hand still wrapped around my jacket. Her face is puffy, eyes rimmed in a deep red, and mascara streaks down her face. My heart aches for her, anger and confusion swirling around my chest as I work out what the fuck I just witnessed.

I damn sure don’t ask, though; instead, I unzip my jacket. “I’m not going to leave you, but at least let me get you in a blanket. Do you still have some in the crate?”

There was a chest we used to keep under the sealed window for our sleepovers out here. It also had some battery-powered lanterns and dishtowels for any spills. The chest is still there, but the new paint job makes me wonder if it houses the same items.

She nods.

Thank fuck. I move quickly, opening up and pulling out all the contents. The lights are set up in seconds, and when I turn around, Lily is already coming out her clothes.

I suck in air, heat creeping up my cheeks. Part of me wants to look away, but the other part...

Then I see it.

The necklace that’s always hidden.

It’s the heart charm that belongs to a bracelet I bought her three years ago. I left it up here the day she told me not to move to Emerald Falls.

She fucking kept it.