“Aw, honey.” Her sweet motherly tone made me cry harder. She eased back and lifted my chin. “Tell me what happened.”
I snagged a tissue off the desk next to the fridge. “I found Train with Nina, like their bodies were almost flush together. She had her hands all over him. I know he’s trying to help me clear my name, but he didn’t have to be so close to her.”
She started putting the ice cream and other frozen foods into the freezer. “Did you talk to him?”
“I didn’t get a chance to.” Even if Coach hadn’t come in and Train and I had talked, I wouldn’t have listened. He could’ve told me he loved me, and I wouldn’t have heard him. Well, maybe I would’ve heard that, but I might not have believed him.
“Do you love him?”
I wiped the snot from my nose. “I don’t know. Maybe.” My stomach felt as though someone had taken a filet knife and carved out the lining. “It gutted me to see them together.”
“Was he touching her? Did you see them kissing?”
I shook my head. “He had his arms at his sides.”
“Honey, maybe it’s not what you think. You even said that he’s trying to help clear your name. And if Nina wants him back, it sounds to me like she’ll do anything. Women have their ways of luring men back into their seductive web.”
She had seemed to be doing a bang-up job, although Train had been tense, as though he’d wanted to punch her. Still, he didn’t have to talk to her in his underwear or be so close for her to get the point.That girl will never get the message that Train doesn’t want her.
I sniffled. “I hate feeling like my insides are being ripped to shreds. Why does love hurt? It’s not supposed to.”
She smoothed a hand over my hair. “Love will be worth all the pain with the right boy.”
“Train isn’t the right boy.”Yes, he is. He’s handsome, sexy, he likes all my flaws, he can dance, he saved my life, he’s a good kisser, and when he looks at me, I feel like I’m the only one he wants, or at least I hope I am.
She gave me a weak smile. “Don’t give up on him, Montana. Your emotions are tender right now. Let things die down.”
Maybe she was right. “I should get ready for work. Thank you, Mom.”
She kissed me on the forehead. “I love you.”
“Ditto,” I said as I went up to my room.
After I dried my tears, freshened up, and changed into a red sundress and black sandals, I went down to the kitchen, where Mom was finishing unpacking groceries. “I’m off to work. Do I look okay?” My eyes were puffy.
“Beautiful,” she said. “Work will take your mind off things. Now, be careful. Oh, and Montana, I know when you get upset, you tend to do things that get you in trouble.” Her tone held a warning. “Promise me you won’t tag or do something stupid.”
I hadn’t even considered tagging, although she was right. “I promised you I wouldn’t.” But maybe it was time to break some rules. Then we would move again, and all the high school drama, including Train, would be a speck on a map.
Ten minutes later, I parked my car downtown and headed up the street to the art gallery. Dusk crawled through the streets of Charleston, and people strolled along as if they didn’t have a care in the world. I wished I didn’t have anything to care about, but sadly, I couldn’t get my mind off of Train and my mom’s question. Did I love Train? He did make my stomach flutter. One look into his sea-green eyes, and I was a pile of mush. Not only that, but he made me want to punch him and kiss him at the same time. I didn’t know if love was any of those things.
I was a block from the gallery when my phone rang. I fumbled for it in my bag. When I got my hands on my cell, the ringing ended. A moment later, a message on the screen showed I had missed a call from Train. I waited a second to see if he would leave a message. When one didn’t register, I shoved the phone back in my bag. I didn’t have time to talk anyway, and I wasn’t in the mood, either.
Carol, my manager, greeted me with a nod over her reading glasses when I breezed in. A sip-and-paint session wasn’t on the schedule. So I set to work, helping customers with any questions they had about the various paintings and pictures that peppered the walls around the gallery. My two-hour shift actually flew by. I was thankful for the distraction from school, Nina, and Train, although, if I were being honest, I wanted to call Train. I wanted to ask him all sorts of questions.Why weren’t you in school? Why didn’t you answer your phone?
When my shift finally ended, Carol came out of her office. “Montana, I’ll see you tomorrow night for the sip-and-draw event.”
If I’m not dead from heartbreak.“Sure,” I said before heading into the humid night.
On the way to my car, I passed by an alley and heard two people arguing. Normally, I didn’t venture into alleys, but the guy’s voice sounded scarily familiar, as did that of the girl he was arguing with.
As I padded down the dead-end path, a muted light from the building on my right illuminated the area, and the faint smell of garbage tickled my nose. The deeper I got, the more my eyes opened, not only at the sound of their voices, but at the fact that the guy was tagging the building on my left.
I stopped midway to admire his work until I realized he was painting my flipping signature—Spunk. Only the artwork was ten times better than the one at school. I tore my gaze away to find Nina standing close by.
“Are you following me?” Nina asked.
I glanced past her to the guy with dark spiked hair. “Ferris?”
