Chapter Seventeen

Summer has begun to slip by so fast. Days now measured in secret skate sessions with Finn and Frankie and Taylor, of which there have been many.

And it's weird, because since Marienne's awkward talk with Boyd he's put space between us again. I can't be hundred percent sure he hasn't seen me sneaking out late at night, but if he has he's not said anything. He hasn't called my name in a while and in a way, I'm glad for it.

Going to meet the guys at Burt's or at the motel has become second nature. I'm getting better at nailing tricks and flips and at sneaking out without a sound. But tonight, even I know I can't lie my way out to a party Frankie has invited me to.

Marienne knows the story I've spun her. Which involves Frankie and a small party but not Taylor, and certainly not Finn. By all accounts, she seems happy, even excited for me. I think it's because she's feeling guilty of behalf of my dad for his almost non-existent presence this summer.

"You picked out what to wear for tonight?" Marienne asks as she comes by my door. I shake my head. Taking a step inside, she pulls my duffle bag full of chlorine-stained tees up onto the bed.

As she helps to pick something suitable for the humidity, I think of Finn and his elaborate shirts and jackets, and what he might have picked out for the party, and the nervous-excitement bubbling up inside about seeing him so soon salsa dances to the surface.

"A dress?" Marienne lifts a floral sundress that I bought along on account that it was already in the duffle from the last summer spent at my mom's out from the bag.

"I dunno..."

She offers an encouraging smile. "But it's really pretty and just perfect for an outdoor party." Her voice softly rises and soon I'm trying it on behind the cover of the closet slate doors.

"Ta da," I announce, hating the feel of the flimsy fabric against my skin and how it covers only half my legs. Marienne doesn't seem as bothered by this. She clasps her hands together like a mother to a new bride would.

"Beautiful."

"Doubtful."

She tilts her head at me. "Now come on Sydney, you know I never sugar coat my words. Not even with family."

I swallow back the word family. Marienne offers a smile. "Sorry if I'm overstepping but I never had a daughter to do this kind of thing with. It's a complete novelty for me." She pauses to chew the inside of her lip and shrug, "I love it."

"You're saying Boyd never let you dress him up like this?" I say, laughing at both my reflection in the mirror and the thought of him twirling in a floral sundress.

"I wish. I come from a long line of bloom boys and men. The only girl..."

I nod.

"You want me to curl your hair?" Marienne offers, as if as an afterthought though I know she wants to.

"Sure, that would be great."

We don't say much as I sit on the floor, her on the edge of the bed, curling strand after strand of my sun-fried hair but I can tell she's enjoying it.

"I used to curl my hair just like this," Marienne says finally, her voice quiet behind me. "The summer before graduation, I'd go out most nights and I'd sit just like you are now, to curl my hair for the long night ahead before sneaking out."

I carefully nod so I don't pull on the hot tongs as she loops and releases a perfect, bouncy curl over my shoulder. But my whole body wants to jolt forwards at such a confession.

She sucks in a breath. "He loved my hair like that. I miss those days"

I brace myself for the whole sad sorry about Marienne and Boyd's dad's messy divorce, and possibly tears but his name doesn't pass her lips, another I'm all too familiar with does.

"But I should've known that dating a Kerrhart had an expiry date. At least for a Bloom," Marienne stops curling and holds the tongs away. I catch her reflection in the mirror and how she's staring ahead, lost in a memory I'm not sure I should be hearing about.

"It was a few weeks before graduation. We broke up the day after. Never spoke again."

"You and..." I can't even say the name Kerrhart without feeling my own guilt rise up, ready to strangle me.

Marienne's gaze finds mine in the mirror. "Dylan Kerrhart, son of Burt Kerrhart... yeah. I know..."

"Oh."

"But no one else ever knew. Especially not my dad or the rest of my family, but your mom suspected. I just never had the guts to tell her. And... I don't know why I'm suddenly telling you now but it feels good." She blows out a deep sigh and leans back to wipe at her cheeks. "I really liked the guy too."

"Why'd you break up?" I ask, knowing we're already in tell-all territory.

Marienne laughs but it's not the good, happy kind. "History, what else. The Blooms vs everything and everyone that isn't. Staying together in the long term was never an option."

"Does-"

"Boyd?" Her eyes catch mine again, already in anticipation. "No."

I turn my head, messing up some of the curls. "I won't say a word. I promise."

"One day I'll tell him. Just not this one."

I swallow back the urge to tell her all about my involvement with another Kerrhart. For a second, I find his name rise up on a wave of courage, straight from my chest but there's clunky footsteps on the stairs, then across the hall before Boyd appears shirtless in the doorway before I can say them.

"Woah!" He says, with a toothy grin.

Marienne rolls her eyes and hastily curls the a new section of my hair, before stepping away with the promise that she won't leave me with half a head of curls, that she'll come back once she's topped up her glass.

It's obvious to me that she's worried that Boyd might've heard, and how he'd react if he ever knew about his mom's involvement with a Kerrheart but he's completely oblivious.

"So, what'd you do with the old Sydney?" Boyd asks with the wiggle of an eyebrow. He stares down at my sundress, then up at half of the curls. His fingers reach out to touch them.

With a small nod, he let's the curl fall loose again. Teasing out a grin, he says, "Seriously, what's brought this on?"

"I..." I can't speak. My words are lost in analysing the tiny gap between us and his grin and the way his breath tickles my bare shoulder.

"Don't worry, you can tell me when you stop by the pool house tonight," Boyd brushes his thumb against my wrist and across my palm. "I'll leave the door open."

"Come on, outta the way," Marienne interrupts, totally oblivious to how close we are. Boyd calmly takes a step back, dragging his cast. "I can't let Syd leave half ready like this."

"Sure thing, mom."

Marienne takes her place again on the edge of the bed with a freshly topped up glass of ice cubes and gin.

"Have fun Syd," Boyd says, only half sincere as he reaches for the door handle.

"Don't wait up," I joke, though I really hope he doesn't. I roll my eyes at my reflection, hoping Marienne will catch on if my 'jokey' tone doesn't clue her in. I just don't want her to see how my hands are shaking. How it feels like all my insides are.

How awfully conflicted I feel about being back on Boyd's radar. How a few curls, a smudge of lipgloss and a flash of leg can turn his attention around.

How easy it is to let him steer me off course all over again.