Say You'll Remember Me

  Elle’s dad gives me an analyzing glance then talks to Cynthia. “I saw the picture. Was there damage to the room?”

  Cynthia sighs and places her hands on her hips. “The hotel says the towels were dirty from Hendrix obviously cleaning up after it. Other than that, no, but they are reinspecting the room, and they’ll blame any damage in that room on us. The hotel is mad. They released a Tweet expressing how Hendrix bringing a dog was disrespectful, and that they are demanding a public apology.”

  The governor is a bear of a man—tall, the physique of someone who has worked out their entire life, someone who demands respect because he enters a room. The way he watches me makes me feel like he can read my mind, and that’s scary for both of us. But I’m not going to bend, not even for him.

  “I found a puppy,” I repeat. “I took him in. That’s it.”

  “It’s a big deal!” Cynthia yells at me.

  The governor pulls out his cell and texts. How damn silent can a room full of people be, and why the hell is a puppy a federal offense?

  “You’re right, Cynthia, it is a big deal, but it’s not a big deal for Hendrix. Bringing in stray dogs is someone else’s style which means this is someone else’s fault.”

  Cynthia’s entire body flinches with his words, and I’ll admit to letting out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding. I didn’t think I’d go to jail over a puppy, but I had been imagining a warning that would put me on edge. Like do it again and we’ll throw your ass out of the campaign, and you can finish out an additional year behind bars.

  A knock on the door of the conference room and when the door opens, I briefly close my eyes. Just damn. I shoot a glare straight at Elle who is walking in. She’s no longer in the glasses, blue jeans, and the white lace tank from last night, but in a blue dress that looks like it was made perfectly for her every curve. It flows with her, and makes her look like she’s walking on a breeze.

  Yeah, she’s gorgeous, but I prefer the real Elle and not as she is right now: makeup, hair, clothes, perfection. A walking, talking magazine cover.

  While she’s currently most men’s fantasy of a breath of fresh air, she’s about to give me heartburn. The girl isn’t afraid of a thing as she glares straight back at me.

  For the past two weeks, we’ve talked on the phone, via video chat, and have hung in person late at night in hotel rooms as we ate room service and watched movies until we could hardly stay awake. Friends. Just friends. Each and every time I talk to her, I want to talk to her more. I want to sit with her more. I just want to be with her more, and she needs to let me take the fall.

  “You wanted to see me?” Elle says to her father.

  “Yes.” His words the equivalent to a slice of a razor. “Everyone needs to leave.”

  People file out, and Elle stands near the wall next to the door, staring at the floor with that same pissed-off expression I’ve seen a few times. She knows what’s about to happen as well as I do. Elle told me she would be blamed, and I can’t let it happen. I’m the delinquent. I’m the person who makes mistakes. Elle is the girl with a big heart.

  “I did it,” I say. “I was outside walking around, I saw a guy dump a box and I was curious. The puppy was in there, and I brought it in. I didn’t know it was going to be a big deal.” And I say the words I hardly ever utter. “I’m sorry.”

  “Drix didn’t do it.” Elle lifts her head, and it’s like watching a ram kick its front legs as she glances over at her father. “I’m the one who found the puppy, and I knew you’d be mad if I picked up another stray. When I saw Drix in the hallway, I asked if he would watch him.”

  “And then take it home?” her father pushes, and I wince internally at the anger simmering underneath his suit and tie.

  “Yes,” she says. “I made phone calls, and I got the dog into a no-kill shelter, so I asked Drix to take him there and he agreed.”

  “Because how can he say no to the governor’s daughter,” her father says, and I’m shaking my head. I saved that puppy, and if Elle wasn’t there, I would have given him shelter.

  “Sir, with all due respect—”

  “It’s okay, Drix,” Elle says. “I’m the one who’s wrong in this scenario.”

  “Yes, you are.” Her father raises his voice. Not a lot, just enough, and that angry darkness from before the arrest raises its groggy head. No one should be yelling at her. “Do you have any idea what Hendrix has gone through in his life? Do you have any idea how thoughtless your actions are?”

  Elle only tucks her hair behind her ear, meets my gaze and says, “Do you mind giving me and my father a few minutes alone?” Her steady voice is perfection, as if she’s reading a speech.

  I tilt my head. You’re interrupting me taking the fall. Step back. Let me handle this.

  Elle arches an eyebrow that’s a darker shade of blond than the last time I saw her. It’s not a big difference, but I notice. I also notice her new contacts. Still blue, but that blue is brighter and not the deep blue I dream about at night.

  I prefer her lighter blond, deep blue eyes and glasses. I prefer hair in a messy bun and those wisps of strands curving around her beautiful face. I prefer her real smile when she laughs at a movie over the fake one she puts on for everyone else. I prefer the faint scar over her right eyebrow she got while climbing rocks with Henry when she was eleven more than the makeup that currently covers and conceals. I prefer her as she is, and I prefer for her to let me to continue to keep her out of trouble.

  “Please leave, Hendrix,” the governor says, “and please accept my apology. My daughter has a habit of not thinking her actions through. I understand that my campaign staff and I ask a lot of you, and you have done an amazing job, but please know that Elle is not an extension of me or my staff. You are under no obligation to her whatsoever.”

  No obligation. Elle opens the door, and those fake, bright blue eyes beg me to leave. I go through a million scenarios in my mind, try to figure out what words I can say to convince her father that the puppy is on me, but even with a photo, he’s made his decision.

  Judge, jury and executioner and I get it. It’s what happened to me the moment I was arrested, and like me, she’s willing to take the fall. Hating myself, respecting her, I leave, and the door doesn’t even close all the way before he begins to yell.

  Ellison

  “Hey,” Henry says over the speaker of my cell. “Are you still there?”

  I suck in a breath and stretch because while my body is still in the same spot as when I accepted Henry’s call, my mind has wandered far.

  I’m on the bed, in my hotel room, waiting for tonight’s event. Dad informed me it would be wise if I stayed here until summoned. That was his way of grounding me while on the road.

  My laptop is on, and the program for coding the app is open, but I haven’t typed anything in. My mind is everywhere else, not on the code, and I need it to be on the code or possibly the conversation with Henry.

  I’m officially in deep with my father, and he told me that he thinks they’ve been too lenient on me. He thinks I’m not making good choices. He thinks they need to start making more choices for me. He thinks I shouldn’t take the coding classes this fall. Both of my parents are terrified I’m going to turn into Henry.

  “Yes, I’m here,” I say. “What were you saying?”

  “That you sound miserable. What happened?”

  I’m silent because I’m still too raw from Dad’s rant, and I don’t really need Henry laying into me, too, because Dad’s mad.

  “Elle,” he urges, “talk to me.”

  I roll my neck, but that doesn’t ease any of the tension. “Why? So you can use it against me later because I’m having a bad day?”

  Silence on his end. “Guess I deserved that.”

  Guess so. “I’m sorry. It’s been a rough day.”

  “It’s okay. But I do want you to
talk to me, and I promise I won’t bring it up later.”

  I tap my fingers against my computer. I want to talk to him. I want the pain to go away. My throat burns, and I press the space bar as if that will magically make my world better.

  Who do you think you are? my father demanded of me many times. Who do you think you are to ask Hendrix to help with something so selfish? I expect better from you.

  Better. I’m supposed to be better. I’m always supposed to be better. Because who I am isn’t good enough. Will it ever be?

  “I miss you,” I say. “Sometimes I wonder if it would be easier if you were still around.”

  “I miss you, too, but it wouldn’t be easier with me around. It would probably be harder. I wasn’t really me when I was around your mom and dad, and I used to feel like I was suffocating. If I was around, I’d be bringing you down with me.”

  Suffocating. I lift my head and look at myself in the mirror on the hotel wall. Reflecting back is more of the girl who should be getting ready for a photo shoot than me—the girl comfortable in glasses. At least, before the coloring of my hair, I used to be able to return to the old me. Now I seem to be turning into someone else instead of just borrowing a personality for an hour.

  “Hey, Elle, I’m getting paged. I’ll call you later.”

  “Okay. Be safe.”

  “You, too.”

  And he’s gone, doing whatever it is that his job in the army requires of him. My cell chimes, and I sigh. Henry is going to get in trouble for not saying how high when they say jump, but I pause when I spot Drix’s name instead of Henry’s.

  Drix: You okay?

  No.

  Me: I’m good.

  Drix: I heard your Dad yelling through the door.

  Roiling in my stomach. Fantastic. People heard.

  Me: Everything is okay. Promise.

  Drix: You shouldn’t have let him think you were responsible. I’m good at taking falls. You should have let me taken care of it.

  Me: Dad was right. I should have never asked you to take on the puppy. It was thoughtless of me.

  Drix has so much more to lose than I do, and he’s currently paying a media price.

  I expect Drix to rapid-fire text back, but he doesn’t, and there’s a shifting of disappointment in my stomach. Any conversation with Drix is welcomed, even if it is me apologizing.

  A knock and I pop my head up. Drix and I have been so much smarter than standing in the hallway knocking, as that could lead to someone seeing us, so it must be Mom, Dad or someone from the campaign. I move slowly for the door, look out the peephole and nobody’s there. Yet, there’s a knock again.

  I pivot with the sound, then stand in front of the adjoining door. Another knock and my eyebrows rise. Could it be?

  Me: Is that you?

  Drix: Open the door and find out.

  My heart beats hard, and my fingers shake as I twist the knob. The door opens, and Drix is standing on the other side. His right arm resting above his head on the door frame, his blondish-brown hair in those messed up spikes as if he just adorably rolled out of bed. He’s in a black T-shirt stretched beautifully along sculpted muscle, and those jeans ride dangerously low.

  “Hey.” I’ll admit to being breathless.

  “Hey,” he says in that deep, smooth tone of his. “Can I come in?”

  Definitely. I scoot back, and he enters my room. My room. In the past two weeks, I’ve gone to his room, and now he’s in my room and he’s seeing my mess and now he’s looking at my computer...but I want him here. I like being with Drix, I like talking with Drix, I just like Drix.

  He surveys the room, probably taking in my choices of dresses for tonight’s fund-raiser hanging on the portable closet in the corner. I’m aware normal people don’t bring so many clothes for such a short time, and I’m also aware how crazy this must all look to him.

  “What did your dad say?”

  “Honestly? That I’m a bad influence on you.”

  He laughs, I don’t, and Drix sobers up. “You’re kidding.”

  I shrug like Dad yelling at me doesn’t sting. “I’ve been told I should stay away from you entirely as Dad doesn’t trust me. He said I haven’t been making very good choices lately, that you’ve been doing a good job and that he doesn’t want me influencing you.”

  Drix does another scan of the room, I’m sure searching for a place to sit. Shoes are in one chair. The desk is overtaken by hair products and makeup. Obviously, I’m a slob.

  “You can sit on the bed,” I say. Since the day we brought Thor into our lives, we haven’t sat on a bed together. Mostly out of my choosing because just sitting next to him on the floor where our arms occasionally touch is enough to cause me to be dizzy.

  He sits on the edge of the mattress. I grab my laptop, snap it shut and hold it close to my chest. Drix eyes me and the laptop, but says nothing about it as I place it in my bag.

  “What are your bad choices?” Drix asks.

  I tuck my hair behind my ear. “Spilling drinks on guys who won’t leave me alone, ditching Andrew on the midway, playing Whack-A-Mole.”

  “Be careful of that slippery slope. Once you go midway games, you’re a goner.”

  The ends of my mouth edge up, and Drix watches the movement so closely that I blush. I playfully push his shoulder as I pass him to go sit on the other side of the king-size bed. Drix doesn’t rock at all with my shove, yet touching the muscles of his biceps sends an electrical current through my bloodstream.

  When I drop my hand, Drix snatches it. My entire world stills as he holds my fingers in his, and I’m absolutely hypnotized by those dark brown eyes. “I’m sorry you got in trouble, and I hate you took a fall for me.”

  “I asked you to keep Thor. It’s my fault.”

  “I would have kept him anyway. If it weren’t for you paying for his bills, he’d be in a shelter now. He’d probably be dead with the help he’s needed.”

  Thor is underweight for his age and requires a special diet. I’m paying for anything associated with Thor, and Drix’s family is giving him a home. That is until he’s well enough to be adopted.

  “I should have fought harder for you,” he says. I open my mouth to tell him it’s okay, but Drix squeezes my hand. “I should have fought harder.”

  The seriousness in his eyes, the deepness of his voice is like he’s making a solemn pledge, and this type of promise is like nothing I’ve experienced before. I take a deep breath and tell him the truth. “Dad wouldn’t have believed you.”

  “Not many people do.”

  I blink at his response and he lets go of my hand.

  “What does that mean?” I ask.

  “Nothing. What was your dad talking about with the coding?”

  I drop on the bed and flop back. Oh my God, the entire worlds now knows I’m a huge freaking failure. “Did you hear everything?”

  “Bits and pieces. Don’t worry, no one else did. I stayed outside the door, and the glare I gave kept people moving.”

  I giggle; I don’t know why, but I do. Maybe it’s the tragic irony of how I sometimes catch the way people stare at Drix. Like he really is big, bad and scary. The terrifying wolf walking around in human clothing getting ready to eat babies, but those people are all wrong. Drix is beautiful inside and out. “Thank you.”

  “Tell me about the coding.”

  “I told you, I like computers.”

  Drix only stares at me as if I should keep talking, and while I intended that to be the end of my explanation, I honestly consider telling him more because even though we come from completely different places, something tells me he’ll understand.

  “Fine,” he says. “I’ll go first. I’m applying for late admission at the youth performing arts school at Henderson High School.”

  Joy blossoms within me because Drix never ceases to amaz
e me. “That is awesome.”

  “Yeah.” He runs a hand over his hair, and the motion creates more of those lazy spikes I love so much. “Your turn.”

  Whish. All that joy rushes out of me like someone had blown out a single flame.

  “I overheard a lot about programming,” Drix continues, “and how now you’re not allowed to do it anymore because of Thor. I want to know how important this is to you because I’m still willing to make this right.”

  I place both of my hands over my face. “There is no right. We both saved Thor. We both made the decision. We both dragged a puppy into a historic hotel. I was the wuss who was scared to be seen with it, and you’re paying the price.”

  “It’s a puppy. They’ll get over it. It’s not like you robbed a convenience store.”

  My hands slide off, and I turn my head toward him. “That’s not funny.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  It’s not, but there’s a tingling in my chest with how he smiles at me, but then this weight descends as I think about programming and my father and how he’s disappointed in me. “I’ve lied to them.”

  Drix eases on to his side and lies opposite of me. “Your parents?”

  “Yes. I’ve lied, I keep lying, and I can’t seem to stop, and they’re very angry at me.”

  “For Whack-A-Mole?

  Yep. “For everything at the fair, for taking in Thor, for applying for an internship with a computer programming company that would last four years during college and not telling them.” For my secret friendship with Drix, but that one feels obvious.

  “Maybe you should knock off a convenience store.”

  “It’s definitely not funny this time.”

  “I’m not joking on this round. Your parents need a reality check. I don’t think they understand what real-world problems are.”

  “Lying isn’t a problem to you?”

  “Sometimes people lie to survive. Sometimes they lie because that’s the only choice they have or the only choice worth taking. Have you considered that’s what you’re doing?”

  I rub my eyes because I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know anything anymore. My eyes burn and my eyesight is blurry and I don’t want to cry. Not in front of Drix. Not in front of somebody who knows what, as he just said, are real problems.