Page 17 of Something Like Sugar (Pine Forest Something #2)

SHANA

I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from us!” Lemon falls onto my bed, floating blissfully on a cloud, a wide grin taking over her face as she scrolls through my messages from ‘the watcher.’ I roll my eyes at his facade.

Jeremy re-reads the note that came with the sugar plum flowers, which are half-crumpled in the corner window of my room. They do seem to be doing better since giving them water.

“ I’ll be watching …babes, this is creepy. How did your dad not think this was creepy?” He folds the note back up and sticks it in the plant, touching it as little as possible, as if it might be contaminated, or potential evidence.

I sigh at their antics and flop onto the bed, wrestling my phone back from Lemon.

She whines in protest, but she’s read each message a hundred-million times now.

“It’s not like they’re changing as you read them.” It doesn’t matter anyway.

“You know I’m right, don’t you? The watcher is Dustin. And if that’s the case, what was he doing with that teenage trollop the other day? I’m good enough to stalk but not stick?”

“That’s rather slut-shamey of you. Emily goes to my church,” Lemon assures me, starting a braid in my hair. “She’s twenty-two, not a teenager, so don’t go starting rumors you don’t want following you. I say this from experience, you know.”

I roll my eyes but forget she’s looking in the mirror and it earns me a snug hair pull. “Ow, okay!”

Lemon smiles. “Good, because Emily told me Dustin’s done nothing but sulk all week. He’s worried you hate him for breaking that guy’s hand. He was crying for advice over you , Shay. It’s not what you thought you walked in on.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

“That they’re not romantic?” Jeremy pokes his head out the closet.

“No.” I shove off the bed. “That Lawrence’s hand is broken and Dustin cried. Two birds with one stone and all.”

I walk to the closet as she follows behind, hoping she can’t see my face, because despite what I said, it is a relief that Dustin and Emily aren’t romantic.

It’s the biggest weight off my shoulders since I saw her on his desk and instantly wanted to burn it to the ground for supplying a surface on which she could touch the man that should be mine.

I wipe my face on my sleeve as I round the corner and find Jeremy seated on the vanity stool in the center, six of my fanciest dresses fanned around him.

Lemon’s eyes go wide, marveling at the rows of elegant gowns lined with beads and sequins.

I’ve been collecting them for a while, most of them making substantial hits to my bank account the year I got my LLC and signed up for the Business Owners Elite.

The membership alone gets you into the galas and networking events, so it’s worth the yearly price tag.

I met my web designer at the last one I attended, before Dad got worse.

I haven’t been to one since.

“What do you have these for? I haven’t seen you wear anything except that hoodie and a leotard my entire life.”

“Not true. I switch it up to a puffy coat in the winter.” I wink, making us all laugh.

Lemon nudges me. “Be serious for once, you know what we mean. These are fancy.”

“You and Devyn had pageants.” I wave my hand over the dresses dismissively. “I had networking galas and award stuff. No big deal.”

“Time the fuck out.” Lemon purses her lips.

“What do you mean award stuff ? Have you received awards we don’t know about and been going to fancy ass galas and shit and not telling us, because I swear to God, Shana, I will take back my friendship bracelet before the Shaylyn Tryst concert.

You will have a totally naked wrist and look friendless. ”

I don’t tell people about this stuff, because it’s not their job to worry about me. I need to get used to dealing with life alone. Soon, I will be.

Still, Lemon and Jeremy are the closest friends I’ve got next to Devyn and Dad.

I exhale an image of a funeral. One where I stand alone at a casket, draped in a beautiful blue gown, lined with jewels that sparkle so brightly you can’t see the shine of my tears.

I’ll be alone forever if I stay alone forever.

“Jeremy, this one’s a Claudette Charbonneau!” Lemon gawks. Her squeals pierce my ears as she picks up another. “You have an Antionette Matisse, too? She’s…not cheap.”

“I wore them the year I opened Holiday Dance Company. I was named Business Elite’s Top Startup when I filled so many classes I had to rent the empty studio beside mine before our first season even began.

” I twiddle my thumbs, their unhidden pride cradling me with confidence.

“The black one is special. I wore it to accept the award for Most Profitable Small Business in the arts division a few years back.”

Jeremy beams until I see stars in place of his pupils.

“Um, Ring, Ring. Hello? I didn’t even know about business awards.

I call dibs on being plus one at the next one.

Pretend I’m your boyfriend. I’m insanely good at acting straight.

” He loosens his belt to sag his jeans before sitting on the vanity and leaning back on one elbow, legs spread wide with a bored expression across his face.

“See? So straight you could snort me.” He winks, as Lemon and I double over in laughter.

“Sorry, Jer,” I say, wiping laugh-tears from my eyes, “I don’t actually go to those anymore, but I’m highly impressed with your heterosexual impersonation, nonetheless.”

“Is it one of those, you only go if you win it that year, sort of galas?” Lemon asks, picking lint from the hem of the black gown.

“Nah, I mean, I usually do win it every year…for our region at least, but with Dad, the commitment—”

Lemon slams a finger to my lips. “You have been winning these things every year and skipping them? Not telling anyone?” She’s furious, but I don’t see why.

It’s better this way. There is so much going on all the time, and everyone is always dropping off casseroles or calling from church with donations, asking me if I’m ‘hanging in there’ with sorrowful eyes.

Don’t they see I’m sparing them the drama?

I don’t know what to say, so I just don’t, and she sits back beside me and squeezes my hand.

Jeremy nods at the dresses. “Not to change the subject while we’re dissecting years’ worth of mental self-Stockholming, but…are you thinking what I’m thinking?” He winks at Lemon just as her lips twist in a smirk.

“Oh no,” I say, decoding their silent message. “I am not wearing one of those on my date.”

Lemon and Jeremy groan, throwing inaudible thesis statements at me and chasing me around the closet with different dresses they want me to try until I can’t hear or think a single thing.

“Oh, come on, Shana! These dresses must be worth thousands. One gala a year can’t be the only time you wear them!” Jeremy shoves a deep green dress over my head while Lemon has me cornered, hanger still attached, and I turn to face him.

“Of course that’s the only time I wear them, are you kidding me?

I’m a walking billboard for attention in those.

” I peel the green gown from my head and point out the all-black one that cuts off just above the knee.

Rows of jewels zip up the front in swirling patterns, curling around the bust to accentuate the deep, plunging neckline.

“I get a lot of looks when I wear stuff like this.”

“Of course you get a lot of looks. My God, Shana you have no idea, do you?” Jeremy scrambles to his feet and turns to Lemon. “She has no idea, does she?”

“No, Jer, she does not.”

“I have no idea what? ” I all but scream.

“Baby-cakes, you are an absolute ten .”

“An eleven,” Lemon corrects.

They crowd in on either side of me and force us toward the vanity until we’re all staring back at the same face in the mirror: me.

“Do you want Dustin? Because after my full inspection of your messages, I agree, he is most definitely your watcher. And he wants you, Shana. For whatever reason, he’s just scared.”

I know the reason, I can’t tell them.

“So, what am I supposed to do? Keep going on dates until he breaks every hand on Flinger until his is the only one left to text me?”

Lemon stops playing with my hair and meets my gaze in the mirror. “Yes.”

“What? No, I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s brilliant. The oldest trick in the book. We make him jealous.” She slips her phone from her dress pocket and taps her fingers in a frenzy. “I have an actor friend who owes me a favor, and I think,” her smile widens, “I have a plan.”

“A set up?” Jeremy asks seriously.

Warmth floods me. My friends are in on this like it’s their own destiny at hand, and I love them for it, but… jealousy? “Isn’t that kind of childish?”

“Honey, he broke your date’s hand.”

Buzz.

Dev: Heard something happened at Cowboy’s Paradise last night, but nobody will give me details. Let me know you’re okay. Love you, Shay!

Guilt spikes in my gut.

I wish I could ask Devyn what she thinks, but that’s never felt fair to Dustin. She doesn’t even know we’ve kissed. How will she react when I explain I’ve loved no other man since I was thirteen and he taught me about tampons?

I’ve been lying the whole time.

Then there’s Thomas and Dustin’s second run in with the courts. He didn’t want his sister to know about it. She was going through so much already when she was whisked away to the city, the year before we graduated.

She was broken back then. As was he.

His father only fought for custody of one kid, and it wasn’t him. Then he ripped them away from each other.

I always assumed Dustin didn’t want to come between Dev and me. But I think back to what he said in the studio, about how his dad could be.

Dustin has been protecting himself, too.

Lemon scrolls Flinger, silent for longer than I imagined she could even be, a determined glare on her face as she types a message to someone just minutes before I get a ping on my own phone.

“That should be him!” She paws for it, but I swat her away, opening the notification to the prettiest man I’ve ever seen in my whole life on the screen before me. Haans.

“That’s his whole name? Just Haans? No last name?

No number?” I scratch my head, not even sure how that happens.

There must be a billion Haans’ in the world.

“How long ago did he make a Flinger account that he’s got his own first name as a screen name?

Is he like fifty?” I narrow my eyes. “Do you have a sugar daddy, Lem?”

“Several.” She snatches my phone while Jeremy rolls his eyes. “But Haans is not one of them. He’s an actor I met on this photo shoot in—”

“Wait, you were an actor? I thought you were a bartender before you became a nursing assistant.”

“Lemon is a chameleon.” Jeremy shrugs before he goes back to my closet for shoes to match the black gown.

The. Black. Gown. I doubletake.

“I’m not wearing that to meet Haans, am I?”

“Yep.” Lemon smiles, pleased with that fact. “Now, Haans is a pro at this sort of charade. He does side-work for reality television. Just be natural.”

I nod. It seems simple enough. I go on a fake date with Haans, and…wait.

“What’s the rest of the plan? We get Dustin jealous and worked up until he Hulks out? That could be problematic. Haans probably wants to keep both his hands.” I look back at his profile picture. “I think I’ve seen him on that Blind Lover show.”

“I know, right?” Lemon gushes. “Anyway, it’s quite simple.

We’ve confirmed Dustin is stalking you. So, he’ll show up to watch you on your date, that much we can count on.

Jeremy and I will be hiding in the parking lot, so we know when he shows up.

And what your broody little watcher doesn’t know, is that through this fancy little dash cam I stole from my father’s driver, you will be watching him. ”

“And then…”

“Then we play.” She smiles a devilish grin as she links her pinky with mine. “Trust me, Shay. It will work. Dustin doesn’t seem the type who likes sharing his toys. He just needs to be mad enough to admit it.”

“Ew!” I yank my pinky away and swat her shoulder. “Too much. I’m still an innocent, remember?” We meet eyes and she gives me a look that settles it.

“What’s it gonna be? Hoodie or Hottie?”

“I’ll do it,” I decide.

“I can’t wait to torture him.” Lemon beams. Maybe that should be examined psychiatrically, but I let her hold my hand instead. “By the time the night is through, Dustin Campbell— the watcher —will have all eyes and thoughts on you, Shay.”

Snug in my black dress, with my friends already off to stake out the parking lot, I finally have a moment to myself.

Dad’s been sleeping lately, but as I look at my reflection and take in the dress my friends have pasted to my body as bait, I wish he were present.

It all feels very Much Ado About Nothing, tricking Dustin into admitting his feelings over another man vying for my affections.

And even though Dad isn’t awake to recite it, I hear Shakespeare loud and clear, “Of this matter, is Cupid’s crafty arrow made. ”

I curtsy to the mirror, proud of identifying the play without Dad’s help. Maybe I’m a bit like him after all. Maybe I won’t lose him, not wholly. Not when moments of his spirit are fractured through my days.

My eyes flick to my laptop screen, six-oh-three. I adjust my breasts, stunningly below-average, A-and-a-halfs, and wrinkle my nose at the girl before me.

The one who’s going for it, for once.

“Time to tame this wild heart into my loving hands , even if he has been a dick . Get it? Benedict?”

I laugh into the silence as my eyes meet my own, because that’s how it will be soon.

Just Shana Holiday, the last of her kind.

I’ll miss you, Dad.