It’s just one word, but as soon as I lay my tray down across from Breckin, I know exactly what all that word encompasses. I laugh and decide to spill all the details before Holder shows up at our table. If he shows up at our table. Not only have we not discussed relationship labels, we also haven’t discussed lunchroom seating arrangements.
“He showed up at my house on Friday and after quite a few misunderstandings, we finally came to an understanding that we just misunderstood each other. Then we baked, I read him some smut and he went home. He came back over Saturday night and cooked for me. Then we went to my room and…”
I stop talking when Holder takes a seat beside me.
“Keep going,” Holder says. “I’d love to hear what we did next.”
I roll my eyes and turn back to Breckin. “Then we broke the record for best first kiss in the history of first kisses without even kissing.”
Breckin nods carefully, still looking at me with eyes full of scepticism. Or curiosity. “Impressive.”
“It was an excruciatingly boring weekend,” Holder says to Breckin.
I laugh, but Breckin looks at me like I’m crazy again. “Holder loves boring,” I assure him. “He means that in a nice way.”
Breckin looks back and forth between the two of us, then shakes his head and leans forward, picking up his fork. “Not much confuses me,” he says, pointing his fork at us. “But you two are an exception.”
I nod in complete agreement.
We continue on with lunch and have somewhat normal, decent interaction between the three of us. Holder and Breckin start talking about the book he let me borrow and the fact that Holder is even discussing a romance novel at all is entertaining in itself, but the fact that he’s arguing about the plot with Breckin is sickeningly adorable. Every now and then he places his hand on my leg or rubs my back or kisses the side of my head, and he’s going through these motions like they’re second nature, but to me not a single one of them goes unnoticed.
I’m trying to process the shift from last week to this week and I can’t get past the notion that we might just be too good. Whatever this is and whatever we’re doing seems too good and too right and too perfect and it makes me think of all the books I’ve read and how, when things get too good and too right and too perfect, it’s only because the ugly twist hasn’t yet infiltrated the goodness of it all and I suddenly—
“Sky,” Holder says, snapping his fingers in front of my face. I look at him and he’s eyeing me cautiously. “Where’d you go?”
I shake my head and smile, not knowing what just set off that mini internal panic attack. He slides his hand just below my ear and runs his thumb across my cheekbone. “You have to quit checking out like that. It freaks me out a little bit.”
“Sorry,” I say with a shrug. “I’m easily distracted.” I bring my hand up and pull his hand away from my neck, squeezing his fingers reassuringly. “Really, I’m fine.”
His gaze drops to my hand. He flips it over and slides my sleeve up, then twists my wrist back and forth.
“Where’d you get that?” he says, looking down at my wrist.
I look down to see what he’s referring to and realize I’m still wearing the bracelet I put on this morning. He looks back up at me and I shrug. I’m not really in the mood to explain it. It’s complicated and he’ll ask questions and lunch is almost over.
“Where’d you get it?” he says again, this time a little more demanding. His grip tightens around my wrist and he’s staring at me coldly, expecting an explanation. I pull my wrist away, not liking where this is going.
“You think I got it from a guy?” I ask, puzzled by his reaction. I hadn’t really pegged him for the jealous type, but this doesn’t really seem like jealousy. It seems like crazy.
He doesn’t answer my question. He keeps glaring at me like I’ve got some sort of huge confession that I’m refusing to reveal. I don’t know what he expects, but his attitude right now is more than likely going to end up with him getting slapped, rather than with me giving an explanation.
Breckin shifts uncomfortably in his seat and clears his throat. “Holder. Ease up, man.”
Holder’s expression doesn’t change. If anything, it grows even colder. He leans forward a few inches and lowers his voice when he speaks. “Who gave you the damn bracelet, Sky?”
His words transform into an unbearable weight in my chest and all the same warning signs that flashed in my head when I first met him are flashing again, only this time they’re in big neon letters. I know my mouth is agape and my eyes are wide, but I’m relieved that hope isn’t a tangible thing, because everyone around me would see mine crumbling.
He closes his eyes and faces forward, setting his elbows on the table. His palms press against his forehead and he inhales a long, deep breath. I’m not sure if the breath is more for a calming affect, or a distraction to keep him from yelling. He runs his hand through his hair and grips the back of his neck.
“Shit!” he says. His voice is harsh and it causes me to flinch. He stands up and walks away unexpectedly, leaving his tray on the table. My eyes follow him as he continues across the cafeteria without once looking back at me. He slaps the cafeteria doors with both palms and disappears through them. I don’t even blink or breathe again until the doors finish swinging, coming to a complete standstill.
I turn back to Breckin and I can only imagine the shock on my face right now. I blink and shake my head, replaying the last two minutes of the scene in my head. Breckin reaches across the table and takes my hand in his, but doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. We both lost all of our words the second Holder disappeared through those doors.
The bell rings and the cafeteria becomes a whirlwind of commotion, but I can’t move. Everyone is moving around and emptying trays and clearing tables, but the world of our table is a stilled one. Breckin finally lets go of my hand and grabs our trays, then comes back for Holder’s tray and clears off the table. He picks up my backpack and takes my hand again, pulling me up. He puts my backpack over his shoulder, then walks me out of the cafeteria. He doesn’t walk me to my locker or walk me to my classroom. He holds my hand and pulls me along behind him until we’re out the doors and across the parking lot and he’s opening a door and pushing me inside an unfamiliar car. He slides into his seat and cranks the car, then turns in his seat and faces me.
“I’m not even going to tell you what I think about what just happened in there. But I know it sucked and I have no idea why you aren’t crying right now, but I know your heart hurts, and maybe even your pride. So f*ck school. We’re going for ice cream.” He puts his car in reverse, then pulls out of the parking spot.
I don’t know how he does it because I was just about to burst into tears and sob and snot all over his car, but after those words come out of his mouth, I actually smile.
“I love ice cream.”
The ice cream helped, but I don’t think it helped that much because Breckin just dropped me off at my car and I’m sitting in my driver’s seat, unable to move. I’m sad and I’m scared and I’m mad and I’m feeling all the things that I’m warranted to feel after what just happened, but I’m not crying.
And I won’t cry.
When I get home I do the only thing that I know will help. I run. Only when I get back and climb in the shower I realize that, like the ice cream, the run really didn’t help that much, either.
I go through the same motions that I go through any other night of the week. I help Karen with dinner, I eat with her and Jack, I work on schoolwork, I read a book. I try to act like it doesn’t affect me at all, because I really wish it didn’t, but the second I climb into bed and turn off my light, my mind begins wandering. Only this time it doesn’t wander very far, because I’m stuck on just one thing and one thing only. Why the hell hasn’t he apologized?
I half expected him to be waiting at my car when Breckin and I got back from ice cream, but he wasn’t. When I pulled into my driveway, I expected him to be there, ready to grovel and beg and provide me with even the smallest bit of an explanation, but he wasn’t here. I kept my phone hidden in my pocket (because Karen still doesn’t know I have it) and I checked it every chance I got, but the only text I received was from Six and I still haven’t even read it yet.
So now I’m in my bed, hugging my pillow, feeling incredibly guilty for not having the urge to egg his house and slash his tires and kick him in the balls. Because I know that’s what I wish I was feeling. I wish I was pissed and angry and unforgiving, because it would feel so much better than feeling disappointed over the realization that the Holder I had this weekend…wasn’t even Holder at all.
September 4th, 2012 6:15 a.m.
I open my eyes and don’t climb out of bed until the seventy-sixth star on my ceiling is counted. I throw the covers off and change into my running clothes. When I climb out of my bedroom window, I pause.
He’s standing on the sidewalk with his back to me. His hands are clasped on top of his head and I can see the muscles in his back contracting from labored breaths. He’s in the middle of a run and I’m not sure if he’s waiting on me or just happens to be taking a breather, so I remain stilled outside my window and wait, hoping he keeps running.
But he doesn’t.
After a couple of minutes, I finally work up the nerve to walk into the front yard. When he hears my footsteps, he turns around. I stop walking when we make eye contact and I stare back at him. I’m not glaring or frowning and I’m sure as hell not smiling. I’m just staring.
The look in his eyes is a new one and the only word I can use to describe it is regret. But he doesn’t speak, which means he doesn’t apologize, which means I don’t have time to try and figure him out right now. I just need to run.
I walk past him and step onto the sidewalk, then start running. After a few steps, I hear him begin running behind me, but I keep my eyes focused forward. He never falls into step beside me and I make it a point not to slow down because I want him to stay behind me. At some point I begin running faster and faster until I’m sprinting, but he keeps in pace with me, always just a few steps behind. When we get to the marker that I use as a guide to turn around, I make it a point not to look at him. I turn around and pass him and head back toward my house, and the entire second half of the run is the exact same as the first. Quiet.
We’re less than two blocks from reaching my house and I’m angry that he showed up at all today and even angrier that he still hasn’t apologized. I begin running faster and faster, more than likely faster than I’ve ever ran before, and he continues to match my speed step for step. This pisses me off even more, so when we turn on my street I somehow increase my speed and I’m running toward my house as fast as I possibly can and it’s still not fast enough, because he’s still there. My knees are buckling and I’m exerting myself so hard that I can’t even catch a breath, but I only have twenty more feet until I reach my window.
I only make it ten.
As soon as my shoes meet the grass, I collapse onto my hands and knees and take several deep breaths. Never once, even in my four-mile runs, have I ever felt this drained. I roll onto my back on the grass and it’s still wet with dew, but it feels good against my skin. My eyes are closed and I’m gasping so loud that I can barely hear Holder’s breaths over my own. But I do hear them and they’re close and I know he’s on the grass next to me. We both lie still, panting for breath, and it reminds me of just a few nights ago when we were in the same position on my bed recovering from what he did to me. I think he’s also reminded of this, because I barely feel his pinky when he reaches between us and wraps it around mine. Only this time when he does it, I don’t smile. I wince.
I pull my hand away and roll over, then stand up. I walk the ten feet back to my house and I climb inside my room, then close the window behind me.
Friday, September 28th, 2012 12:05 p.m.
It’s been almost four weeks now. He never showed up to run with me again and he never apologized. He doesn’t sit by me in class or in the cafeteria. He doesn’t send me insulting texts and he doesn’t show up on weekends as a different person. The only thing he does, at least I think he’s the one that does it, is remove the sticky notes from my locker. They’re always crumpled in a wad on the hallway floor at my feet.
I continue to exist, and he continues to exist, but we don’t exist together. Days continue to pass no matter who I exist with, though. And the more days that plant themselves between the present and that weekend with him just leave me with more and more questions that I’m too stubborn to ask.
I want to know what set him off that day. I want to know why he didn’t just let it go instead of storming off like he did. I want to know why he never apologized, because I’m almost positive I would have given him at least one more chance. What he did was crazy and strange and a little possessive, but if I weighed it on a scale against all the wonderful things about him, I know it wouldn’t have weighed nearly as much.
Breckin doesn’t even try to analyze it anymore so I pretend not to, either. But I do, and the thing that eats at me the most is the fact that everything that happened between us is starting to seem surreal, like it was all just a dream. I catch myself questioning whether or not that weekend even happened at all, or if it was just another invalidated memory of mine that may not even be real.
For this entire month, the one thing on the forefront of my mind more than anything (and I know this is really pathetic) is the fact that I never did get to kiss him. I wanted to kiss him so incredibly bad that knowing I won’t get to experience it leaves me feeling like there’s this huge gaping hole in my chest. The ease at which we interacted, the way he would touch me like it was what he was supposed to do, the kisses he would plant in my hair—they were all small pieces of something so much bigger. Something big enough that, even though we never kissed, deserves some sort of recognition from him. Some sort of respect. He treats whatever was about to develop between us like it was wrong, and it hurts. Because I know he felt it. I know he did. And if he felt it in the same way that I felt it, then I know he still feels it.
I’m not heartbroken and I still haven’t shed a single tear over the entire situation. I can’t be heartbroken because luckily, I had yet to give him that part of me. But I’m not too proud to admit that I am a little sad about it all, and I know it’ll take time because I really, really liked him. So, I’m fine. I’m a little sad, and a whole lot confused, but I’m fine.
“What’s this?” I ask Breckin, looking down at the table. He just placed a box in front of me. A very nicely wrapped box.
“Just a little reminder.”
I look up at him questioningly. “For what?”
He laughs and pushes the box closer to me. “It’s a reminder that tomorrow’s your birthday. Now open it.”
I sigh and roll my eyes, then push it to the side. “I was hoping you’d forget.”
He grabs the gift and pushes it back in front of me. “Open the damn present, Sky. I know you hate getting gifts, but I love giving them, so stop being a depressing bitch and open it and love it and hug me and thank me.”
I slump my shoulders and push my empty tray aside, then pull the box back in front of me. “You’re a good gift wrapper,” I say. I untie the bow and tear open one end of the box, then slide open the paper. I look down at the picture on the box and cock my eyebrow. “You got me a TV?”
Breckin laughs and shakes his head, then picks the box up. “It’s not a TV, dummy. It’s an e-reader.”
“Oh,” I say. I have no idea what an e-reader is, but I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to have one. I would just accept it like I accepted Six’s cell phone, but this thing is too big for me to hide in my pocket.
“You’re kidding, right?” He leans toward me. “You don’t know what an e-reader is?”
I shrug. “It still looks like a tiny TV to me.”
He laughs even louder and opens the box, pulling the e-reader out. He turns it on and hands it back to me. “It’s an electronic device that holds more books than you’ll ever be able to read.” He pushes a button and the screen lights up, then he runs his finger across the front, pressing it in places until the whole screen is lit up with dozens of small pictures of books. I touch one of the pictures and the screen changes, then the book cover fills the entire screen. He slides his finger across it and the page virtually turns and I’m staring at chapter one.
I immediately start scrolling my finger across the screen and watch as each page turns effortlessly, one right after the other. It’s absolutely the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. I hit more buttons and click on more books and scroll through more chapters and I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen a more magnificent, practical invention.
“Wow,” I whisper. I keep staring at the e-reader, hoping he’s not playing some cruel joke on me, because if he tries to pry this out of my hands I’ll run.
“You like it?” he asks proudly. “I loaded about two hundred free books on there so you should be good for a while.”
I look up at him and he’s grinning from ear to ear. I set the e-reader down on the table, then lunge forward over the table and squeeze his neck. It’s the best present I’ve ever received and I’m smiling and squeezing him so tight, I completely don’t care that I’m supposed to be horrible at receiving gifts. Breckin returns my hug and kisses me on the cheek. When I let go of his neck and open my eyes, I involuntarily glance at the table that I’ve been trying to avoid glancing at for almost four weeks now.
Holder is turned around in his seat, watching us. He’s smiling. It’s not a crazy or seductive or creepy smile. It’s an endearing smile, and as soon as I see it and the waves of sadness crash against my core, I look away from him and back to Breckin.
I take my seat and pick the e-reader back up. “You know, Breckin. You really are pretty damn great.”
He smiles and winks at me. “It’s the Mormon in me. We’re a pretty awesome people.”
Friday, September 28th, 2012 11:50 p.m.
It’s the last day I’ll ever be seventeen. Karen is working out of town at her flea market again this weekend. She tried to cancel her trip because she felt bad for leaving during my birthday, but I wouldn’t let her. Instead, we celebrated my birthday last night. Her gifts were good, but it’s nothing like the e-reader. I’ve never been more excited to spend a weekend alone.
I didn’t bake near as many things as the last time Karen was out of town. Not because I don’t feel like eating it, but because I’m pretty sure my addiction to reading has just reached a whole new level. It’s almost midnight and my eyes won’t stay open, but I’ve read nearly two entire books and I absolutely need to get to the end of this one. I doze off, then awake with a jerk, only to attempt to read another paragraph. Breckin has really great taste in books, and I’m sort of upset that it took him a whole month to tell me about this one. I’m not a sucker for happily ever afters, but if these two characters don’t get theirs I might climb inside this e-reader and lock them both inside that damn garage forever.
My eyelids slowly close and I keep trying to will them to stay open but the words are beginning to swim together on the screen and nothing is even making sense. I finally power off the e-reader and turn out my light and think about how my last day of being seventeen should have been so much better than it actually was.
My eyes flick open, but I don’t move. It’s still dark and I’m still in the same position I was in earlier, so I know I just fell asleep. I silence my breaths and listen for the same sound that pulled me out of my sleep—the sound of my window sliding open.
I can hear the curtains scraping against the rod and someone climbing inside. I know I should scream, or run for my door, or look around for some sort of object that can be used as a weapon. Instead, I remain frozen because whoever it is isn’t trying to be at all quiet about the fact that they’re climbing into my room, so I can only assume it’s Holder. But still, my heart is racing and every muscle in my body stiffens when the bed shifts as he lowers himself onto it. The closer he gets, the more certain I am that it’s him because no one else can cause my body to react the way it’s reacting right now. I squeeze my eyes shut and bring my hands to my face when I feel the covers lift up behind me. I’m absolutely terrified. I’m terrified, because I don’t know which Holder is crawling into my bed right now.
His arm slides under my pillow and his other arm wraps tightly around my body when he finds my hands. He pulls me against his chest and laces his fingers into mine, then buries his head in my neck. I’m very conscious about the fact that I’m not wearing anything but a tank top and underwear, but I’m confident he’s not here for that part of me. I’m still not positive why he’s here because he’s not even talking, but he knows I’m awake. I know he knows I’m awake because the second his arms went around me, I gasped. He holds me as tight as he can and every now and then, he plants his lips into my hair and kisses me.
I’m angry with him for being here, but even angrier with myself for wanting him here. No matter how much I want to scream at him and make him leave, I find myself wishing he could squeeze me just a little bit tighter. I want him to lock his arms around me and throw away the key, because this is where he belongs and I’m scared he’ll just let me go again.
I hate that there are so many sides to him that I don’t understand, and I don’t know if I even want to keep trying to understand them. There are parts of him I love, parts of him I hate, parts that terrify me and parts that amaze me. But there’s a part of him that does nothing but disappoint me…and that’s the absolute hardest part of him to accept.
We lie here in complete silence for what could be half an hour, but I’m not sure. All I know is that he hasn’t released his grip at all, nor has he made any attempt at explaining himself. But what’s new? There isn’t anything I’ll ever get from him unless I ask the questions first. And right now, I just don’t feel like asking any.
He releases my fingers from his and brings his hand to the top of my head. He presses his lips into my hair and he folds the arm up that’s underneath my pillow and he’s cradling me, burying his face into my hair. His arms begin to shake and he’s holding me with such intensity and desperation that it becomes heartbreaking. My chest heaves and my cheeks burn and the only thing stopping the tears from flowing is the fact that my eyes are closed so tight, they can’t escape.
I can’t take the silence anymore, and if I don’t get off my chest what I absolutely need to say, I might scream. I know my voice will be layered with heartbreak and sadness and I’ll barely be able to speak while attempting to contain my tears, but I take a deep breath anyway and say the most honest thing I can say.
“I’m so mad at you.”
As if it’s possible, he somehow squeezes me even tighter. He moves his mouth to my ear and kisses it. “I know, Sky,” he whispers. His hand slips underneath my shirt and he presses an open palm against my stomach, pulling me tighter against him. “I know.”
It’s amazing what the sound of a voice you’ve been longing to hear can do to your heart. He spoke five words just now, but in the time it took him to speak those five words, my heart was shredded and minced, then placed back inside my chest with the expectation that it should somehow know how to beat again.
I slip my fingers through the hand that’s resting tightly against me and I squeeze it, not even knowing what it means, but every part of me wants to touch him and hold him and make sure he’s really here. I need to know he’s here and that this isn’t just another vivid dream.
His mouth meets my shoulder and he parts his lips, kissing me softly. The feel of his tongue against my skin immediately sends a surge of heat through me and I can feel the flush rise from my stomach, straight up to my cheeks.
“I know, baby,” he whispers again, slowly exploring my collarbone and neck with his lips. I keep my eyes shut because the distress in his voice and the tenderness in his touch is making my head spin. I reach up behind me and run my hand through his hair, pressing him deeper into my neck. His warm breath against my skin becomes increasingly more frantic, along with his kisses. Both of our breathing picks up pace as he covers every inch of my neck twice over.
He lifts up on his arm and urges me flat onto my back, then brings his hand to my face and brushes the hair away from my eyes. Seeing him this close to me brings back every single feeling I’ve ever felt for this boy…the good and the bad. I don’t understand how he can put me through what he’s put me through when the sorrow in his eyes is so prominent. I don’t know if it’s the fact that I can’t read him at all or if I read him too well, but looking up at him right now I know he feels what I’m feeling…which makes his actions that much more confusing.
“I know you’re mad at me,” he says, looking down at me. His eyes and his words are full of remorse, but the apology still doesn’t come. “I need you to be mad at me, Sky. But I think I need you to still want me here with you even more.”
My chest grows heavy with his words and it takes an extreme amount of effort to continue pulling breath into my lungs. I nod my head slightly, because I can completely agree to that. I’m pissed at him, but I want him here with me so much more than I don’t. He drops his forehead to mine and we grab hold of each other’s faces, looking desperately into each other’s eyes. I’m not sure if he’s about to kiss me. I’m not even sure if he’s about to get up and leave. The only thing I’m certain about right now is that after this moment, I will never be the same. I know by the way his existence is like a magnetic pull on my heart, that if he ever hurts me again, I’ll be far from just fine. I’ll be broken.
Our chests are rising and falling as one as the silence and tension grows thicker. The firm grip he has on my face can be felt in every part of me, almost as if he’s gripping me from the inside out. The intensity of the moment causes tears to sting at my eyes, and I’m completely taken aback by my unexpected emotions.
“I am mad at you, Holder,” I say with an unsteady, but sure voice. “But no matter how mad I’ve been, I never for one second stopped wanting you here with me.”
He somehow smiles and frowns in the same moment. “Jesus, Sky.” His face contorts into an incredible amount of reprieve. “I’ve missed you so f*cking bad.” He immediately drops his mouth and his tongue collides feverishly with mine. He fills me with the sweet taste of his mint leaves and soda, and he’s everything I’ve been imagining he would be and more. Our lips are finally intertwining for the first time, or the twentieth time, or the millionth time. It doesn’t really matter because whichever time this is—it’s absolutely perfect. It’s incredible and flawless and almost worth everything we’ve been through in order to get to this moment.
Our lips move passionately together as we struggle to pull ourselves closer, wanting to find that perfect connection with our bodies that we’ve just found with our mouths. He works his mouth against mine delicately, yet fiercely, and I match him movement for movement. I release several moans and even more breaths and he drinks each one of them in with his mouth.
We kiss and we kiss in every position possible, and remain as restrained as we possibly can. We kiss until I can no longer feel my lips, and until I’m so exhausted and spent that I’m not even sure if we’re still kissing when he presses his head to mine again.
And that’s exactly how we fall asleep—forehead-to-forehead, wrapped silently together. Because nothing else is spoken between us. Not even an apology.
Saturday, September 29th, 2012 8:40 a.m.
I turn over to inspect the bed, half thinking what happened last night was a dream. Holder isn’t here, but in his place is a small gift-wrapped box. I push myself up against my headboard and pick up the gift. I stare at it for a long time before I finally lift the lid and look inside. It’s something that looks like a credit card, so I pick it up and read it.
He bought me a phone card with texting minutes. Lots of them.
I smile, because I know the significance of this card. It all lies within the message that Six sent him. He plans on stealing her girl, and he also plans on using a lot of her minutes. The gift makes me smile and I immediately reach to the nightstand and grab my phone. I have one missed text and it’s from Holder.
You hungry?
The text is short and simple but it’s his way of letting me know he’s still here. Somewhere. Is he making me breakfast? I go to the bathroom before heading to the kitchen and brush my teeth. I change out of my tank top and pull on a simple sundress, then gather my hair up in a ponytail. I look at my reflection in the mirror and I see a girl who desperately wants to forgive a boy, but not without a hell of a lot of groveling first.
When I open the door to my bedroom, I’m met with the smell of bacon and the sound of grease sizzling from the kitchen. I walk down the hallway and around the corner, then pause. I stare at him for a while. His back is to me and he’s working his way around the stove, humming to himself. He’s shoeless, wearing jeans topped with a plain white sleeveless t-shirt. He already feels at home again, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.
“I left early this morning,” he says, talking with his back still to me, “because I was afraid your mom would walk in and think I was trying to get you pregnant. Then when I went for my run, I passed by your house again and realized her car wasn’t even home and remembered you said she does those trade days the first weekend of every month. So I decided to pick up some groceries because I wanted to cook you breakfast. I also almost bought groceries for lunch and dinner, but maybe we should take it one meal at a time today.” He turns around and faces me, slowly eyeing me up and down. “Happy Birthday. I really like that dress. I bought real milk, you want some?”
I walk to the bar and keep my eyes trained on him, trying to process the plethora of words that just came out of his mouth. I scoot out a chair and take a seat. He pours me a glass of milk, even though I never said I wanted one, then slides it to me with a huge grin on his face. Before I can take a sip of the milk, he closes the gap between us and takes my chin in his hand.
“I need to kiss you. Your mouth was so damn perfect last night, I’m scared I dreamt that whole thing.” He brings his mouth to mine and as soon as his tongue caresses mine, I can already tell this is going to be an issue.
His lips and his tongue and his hands are so incredibly perfect, I’ll never be able to stay mad at him as long as he’s able to use them against me like this. I grab his shirt and force my mouth against his even harder. He groans and fists his hands into my hair, then abruptly lets go and backs away. “Nope,” he says, smiling. “Didn’t dream it.”
He walks back to the stove and turns off the burners, then transfers the bacon to a plate lined with eggs and toast. He walks it to the bar and begins filling the plate in front of me with food. He takes a seat and begins eating. He’s smiling at me the whole time, and it suddenly hits me.
I know. I know what’s wrong with him. I know why he’s happy and angry and temperamental and all over the place and it finally makes so much sense.
“Are we allowed to play Dinner Quest, even though it’s breakfast time?” he asks.
I take a sip of my milk and nod. “If I get the first question.”
He lays his fork down on his plate and smiles. “I was thinking about just letting you have all the questions.”
“I only need the answer to one.”
He sighs and leans back against his seat, then looks down at his hands. I can tell by the way he’s avoiding my gaze that he already knows I know. His reaction is one of guilt. I lean forward in my chair and glare at him.
“How long have you been using drugs, Holder?”
He shoots his eyes up to meet mine and his expression is stoic. He stares at me for a moment and I keep my stance, wanting him to know I’m not letting up until he tells me the truth. He purses his lips together in a tight line, then looks down at his hands again. For a second I’m thinking he might be preparing to bolt out the front door in order to avoid talking about it, but then I see something on his face I wasn’t expecting to see at all. A dimple.
He’s grimacing, attempting to hold on to his expression, but the corners of his mouth give way and his smile breaks out into laughter.
He’s laughing and he’s laughing really hard and it’s really pissing me off.
“Drugs?” he says between fits of laughter. “You think I’m on drugs?” He continues laughing until he realizes that I don’t think it’s the least bit funny at all. He eventually stops and sucks in a deep breath, then reaches across the table and takes my hand in his. “I’m not on drugs, Sky. I promise. I don’t know why you would think that, but I swear.”
“Then what the hell is wrong with you?”
His expression drops with that question, and he releases my hand from his. “Can you be a little less vague?” He falls back into his chair and folds his arms over his chest.
I shrug. “Sure. What happened to us and why are you acting like it never happened?”
His elbow is resting on the table and he looks down at his arm. He slowly traces each letter of his tattoo with his fingers, deep in thought. I know silence isn’t considered a sound, but right now the silence between us is the loudest sound in the world. He pulls his arm off the table and looks up at me.
“I didn’t want to let you down, Sky. I’ve let everyone down in my life that’s ever loved me, and after that day at lunch I knew I let you down, too. So…I left you before you could start loving me. Otherwise, any effort to try not to disappoint you would be hopeless.”
His words are full of apology and sadness and regret, but he still can’t just say them. He overreacted and jealousy got the best of him, but if he would have just said those two words we would have been spared an entire month of emotional agony. I’m shaking my head, because I just don’t get it. I don’t understand why he couldn’t just say I’m sorry.
“Why couldn’t you just say it, Holder? Why couldn’t you just apologize?”
He leans forward across the table and takes my hand, looking me hard in the eyes. “I’m not apologizing to you…because I don’t want you to forgive me.”
The sadness in his eyes must mirror mine and I don’t want him seeing it. I don’t want him seeing me sad, so I squeeze my eyes shut. He lets go of my hand and I hear him walk around the table until his arms are around me and he’s picking me up. He sets me down on the bar so that we’re at eye level and he brushes the hair from my face and makes me open my eyes again. His eyebrows are pulled together and the pain on his face is raw and real and heartbreaking.
“Babe, I screwed up. I’ve screwed up more than once with you, I know that. But believe me, what happened at lunch that day wasn’t jealousy or anger or anything that should ever scare you. I wish I could tell you what happened, but I can’t. Someday I will, but I can’t right now and I need you to accept that. Please. And I’m not apologizing to you, because I don’t want you to forget what happened and you should never forgive me for it. Ever. Never make excuses for me, Sky.”
He leans in and kisses me briefly, then pulls back and continues. “I told myself to just stay away from you and let you be mad at me, because I do have so many issues that I’m not ready to share with you yet. And I tried so hard to stay away, but I can’t. I’m not strong enough to keep denying whatever this is we could have. And yesterday in the lunchroom when you were hugging Breckin and laughing with him? It felt so good to see you happy, Sky. But I wanted so bad to be the one who was making you laugh like that. It was tearing me up inside that you were thinking that I didn’t care about us, or that spending that weekend with you wasn’t the best weekend I’ve ever had in my life. Because I do care and it was the best. It was the best f*cking weekend in the history of all weekends.”
My heart is beating wildly, almost as fast as the words are pouring out of him. He releases his firm hold on my face and strokes his hands over my hair, dropping them to the nape of my neck. He keeps them there and calms himself with a deep breath, then continues.
“It’s killing me, baby,” he says, his voice much more calm and quiet. “It’s killing me because I don’t want you to go another day without knowing how I feel about you. And I’m not ready to tell you I’m in love with you, because I’m not. Not yet. But whatever this is I’m feeling—it’s so much more than just like. It’s so much more. And for the past few weeks I’ve been trying to figure it out. I’ve been trying to figure out why there isn’t some other word to describe it. I want to tell you exactly how I feel but there isn’t a single goddamned word in the entire dictionary that can describe this point between liking you and loving you, but I need that word. I need it because I need you to hear me say it.”
He pulls my face to his and he kisses me. They’re short kisses, mostly pecks, but he kisses me over and over, pulling back between each kiss, waiting for me to respond.
“Say something,” he pleads.
I’m looking into his terrified eyes and for the first time since we met…I think I actually understand him. All of him. He doesn’t react the way he does because there are five different sides to his personality. He reacts the way he does because there’s only one side to Dean Holder.
Passionate.
He’s passionate about life, about love, about his words, about Les. And I’ll be damned if I wasn’t just added to his list. The intensity he conveys isn’t unnerving…it’s beautiful. I’ve gone so long trying to find ways to feel numb any chance I get, but seeing the enthusiasm behind his eyes right now…it makes me want to feel every single thing about life. The good, the bad, the beautiful, the ugly, the pleasure, the pain. I want that. I want to start feeling life the same way he does. And my first step to doing so starts with this hopeless boy in front of me who’s pouring his heart out, searching for that perfect word, wanting desperately to help me add feeling back into living.
Back into living.
The word comes to me like it’s always been there, tucked away between like and love in the dictionary, right where it belongs. “Living,” I say.
The desperation in his eyes eases slightly, and he lets out a short, confused laugh. “What?” He shakes his head, trying to understand my response.
“Live. If you mix the letters up in the words like and love, you get live. You can use that word.”
He laughs again, but this time it’s a laugh of relief. He wraps his arms around me and he kisses me with nothing but a hell of a lot of relief. “I live you, Sky,” he says against my lips. “I live you so much.”
Saturday, September 29th, 2012 9:20 a.m.
I have no idea how he does it, but I’ve completely forgiven him, have become infatuated with him and now I can’t stop kissing him, all in the span of fifteen minutes. He definitely has a way with words. I’m starting to not mind that it takes him so long to think of them. He pulls away from my mouth and smiles, grabbing my waist with his hands.
“So what do you want to do for your birthday?” he asks, pulling me down off the bar. He gives me another quick peck on the mouth and walks to the living room where his wallet and keys are on the end table.
“We don’t have to do anything. I don’t expect you to entertain me just because it’s my birthday.”
He slips his keys into the pocket of his pants and looks up at me. His mouth hints at a wicked smile and he won’t stop staring at me.
“What?” I ask. “You look guilty.”
He laughs and shrugs. “I was just thinking of all the ways I could entertain you if we stayed here today. Which is exactly why we need to leave.”
Which is exactly why I want to stay here.
“We could go see my Mom,” I suggest.
“Your mom?” He looks at me warily.
“Yeah. She runs an herbal booth at the flea market. It’s the place she goes the first weekend of every month. I never go because she’s there fourteen hours a day and I get bored. But it’s one of the biggest flea markets in the world and I’ve always wanted to go walk around. It’s only an hour and a half drive. They have funnel cake,” I add, trying to make it sound enticing.
Holder walks back to me and wraps his arms around me. “If you want to go to the flea market, then we’re going to the flea market. I’m gonna run home and change and I have something I need to do. Pick you up in an hour?”
I nod. I know it’s just a flea market, but I’m excited. I don’t know how Karen will feel with me showing up unannounced with Holder. I haven’t really told her anything about him, so I feel bad sort of springing him on her like this. It’s her own fault, though. If she didn’t ban technology I could call her and give her a heads up.
Holder gives me another quick peck and walks to the front door.
“Hey,” I say, just as he’s about to walk out. He spins around and looks at me. “It’s my birthday and the last two kisses you’ve given me have been pretty damn pathetic. If you expect me to spend the day with you, I suggest you start kissing me like a boyfriend kisses his…”
The word slips from my mouth and I immediately cut the rest of the sentence off. We still haven’t discussed labels yet and the fact that we just made up within the past half hour makes my lackadaisical use of the word boyfriend feel like something Matty-boy would have said to me. “I mean…” I stutter, then I just give up and clamp my mouth shut. I can’t recover from that.
He’s turned around facing me, still standing by the front door. He’s not smiling. He’s looking at me with that look again, holding my gaze with his, not speaking. He tilts his head toward me and raises both of his eyebrows curiously. “Did you just refer to me as your boyfriend?”
He’s not smiling about the fact that I just referred to him as my boyfriend and that realization makes me wince. God, this seems so childish.
“No,” I say stubbornly, folding my arms across my chest. “Only cheesy fourteen-year-olds do that.”
He takes a few steps toward me, never changing his expression. He stops two feet in front of me and mirrors my stance. “That’s too bad. Because when I thought you referred to me as your boyfriend just now, it made me want to kiss the living hell out of you.” He narrows his eyes and there’s a playful look about him that immediately relieves the knot in my stomach. He turns around and heads back to the door. “I’ll see you in an hour.” He opens the door and turns around before he leaves, slowly easing his way outside, teasing me with his playful grin and lickable dimples.
I sigh and roll my eyes. “Holder, wait.”
He pauses and proudly leans against the doorframe.
“You better come kiss your girlfriend goodbye,” I say, feeling every bit as cheesy as I sound. His face washes with victory and he walks back into the living room. He slips his hand to the small of my back and pulls me against him. It’s our first freestanding kiss and I love the way he’s securing me protectively with his arm around my lower back. He traces his fingers along my cheek and runs them through my hair, bringing his lips closer to mine. He’s not staring at my lips, though. He’s looking straight into my eyes and his are full of something I can’t place. It’s not lust this time; it’s more like a look of appreciation.
He continues to stare at me without closing the gap between our lips. He’s not teasing me or trying to get me to kiss him first. He’s just looking at me with appreciation and affection, and it turns my heart to butter. My hands are on his shoulders, so I slowly run them up his neck and through his hair, enjoying whatever this silent moment is that’s occurring between us. His chest rises and falls against the rhythm of mine and his eyes begin searching my face, scrolling over every feature. The way he’s looking at me is causing my entire body to grow weak, and I’m thankful his arm is still locked around my waist.
He lowers his forehead to mine and lets out a long sigh, looking at me with a look that’s quickly turned into something resembling pain. It prompts me to slide my hands down to his cheeks and softly stroke them with my fingers, wanting to take away whatever it is that’s behind those eyes right now.
“Sky,” he says, focusing on me intently. He says it like he’s about to follow it up with something profound, but instead, my name is the only thing he says. He slowly brings his mouth to mine and our lips meet. He inhales a deep breath as he presses his closed lips against mine, breathing me into him. He pulls away and looks back down into my eyes for several more seconds, stroking my cheek. I’ve never been savored like this before, and it’s absolutely beautiful.
He dips his head again and rests his lips against mine, my top lip between both of his. He kisses me as soft as possible, treating my mouth as though it’s breakable. I part my lips and allow him to deepen his kiss, which he does, but even then it’s still soft. It’s appreciative and gentle and he keeps one hand on the back of my head and one on my hip as he slowly tastes and teases every part of my mouth. This kiss is just like he is—studied and never in a hurry.
Just when my mind has succumbed to every part of being wrapped up in him, his lips come to a standstill and he slowly pulls back. My eyes flutter open and I let out a breath that may have been mixed with the words, “Oh my.”
Seeing my breathless reaction causes him to break out with a smug grin. “That was our first official kiss as a couple.”
I wait for the panic to set in, but it doesn’t. “A couple,” I repeat, quietly.
“Damn straight.” He still has his hand on my lower back and I’m pressed against him, looking up at his eyes as they focus down on me. “And don’t worry,” he adds. “I’ll be informing Grayson myself. I ever see him trying to touch you like he does and he’ll be reintroduced to my fist.”
His hand moves from my lower back and up to my cheek. “I’m really leaving now. I’ll see you in an hour. I live you.” He gives me a quick peck on the lips and backs away, then turns toward the door.
“Holder?” I say as soon as I suck enough breath back into my lungs to speak. “What do you mean by reintroduced? Have you and Grayson been in a fight before?”
Holder’s expression turns into a tight-lipped blank one and he nods, but barely. “I told you before, babe. He’s not a good person.” The door closes behind him and he leaves me with even more questions. But what’s new?
I decide to forego my own shower and call Six, instead. I’ve got a lot to catch her up on. I run to my room and crawl out the window, then slide hers up and pull myself inside. I pick up the phone by her bed and take out my cell phone to find the text that she sent with her international number. When I start dialing, my cell phone receives an incoming message from Holder.
I’m really dreading spending all day with you. This doesn’t sound like fun at all. Also, your sundress is really unflattering and way too summery, but you should definitely keep it on.
I grin. Dammit, I really do live this hopeless boy.
I dial the number to reach Six and lay back on her bed. She answers groggily on the third ring.
“Hey,” I say. “You sleeping?”
I can hear her yawn. “Obviously not. But you really need to start taking time differences into consideration.”
I laugh. “Six? It’s afternoon there. Even if I did take time differences into consideration, it wouldn’t matter with you.”
“I had a rough morning,” she says, defensively. “I miss your face. What’s up?”
“Not much.”
“You lie. You sound annoyingly happy. I’m guessing you and Holder finally worked out whatever the hell happened at school that day?”
“Yep. And you are the first to know that I, Linden Sky Davis, am now a taken woman.”
She groans. “Why anyone would subject themselves to that sort of misery is beyond me. But I’m happy for you.”
“Tha…” I was about to say thanks, but my words are cut off by a very loud “Oh my, God!” from Six’s end.
“What?”
“I forgot. It’s your freaking birthday and I forgot! Happy birthday Sky and holy crap I’m the worst best friend ever.”
“It’s okay,” I laugh. “I’m sort of glad you forgot. You know how I hate presents and surprises and everything else that comes with birthdays.”
“Oh, wait. I just remembered how incredibly awesome I am. Check behind your dresser today.”
I roll my eyes. “Figures.”
“And tell your new boyfriend to get him some damn minutes.”
“Will do. I gotta go, your mom’s gonna shit when she sees this phone bill.”
“Yeah, well…she should be more in tune with the earth like your mom.”
I laugh. “Love you, Six. Be safe, okay?”
“Love you, too. And Sky?”
“Yeah?”
“You sound happy. I’m happy you’re happy.”
I smile and the line disconnects. I head back to my room and, as much as I hate presents, I’m still human and naturally curious. I immediately walk to my dresser and look behind it. On the floor is a wrapped box, so I bend down and pick it up. I walk to my bed and sit, then slide the lid off of it. It’s a box full of Snickers.
Dammit, I love her.
Saturday, September 29th, 2012 10:25 a.m.
I’m standing at my window impatiently waiting when Holder finally pulls up into the driveway. I walk out my front door and lock it behind me, then turn toward the car and freeze. He’s not alone. The passenger door opens and a guy steps out. When he turns around, I’m positive my facial expression is stuck between an OMG and a WTF. I’m learning.
Breckin is holding the passenger door open with a huge grin on his face. “Hope you don’t mind a third wheel today. My second best friend in the whole wide world invited me to come.”
I reach the passenger door, confused as hell. Breckin waits until I climb inside, then he opens the back door and climbs into the back seat. I lean forward and tilt my head toward Holder who’s laughing like he just revealed the punch line to a really funny joke. A joke I’m not a part of.
“Would one of you like to explain what the hell is going on?” I say.
Holder grabs my hand and pulls it to his mouth, giving my knuckles a kiss. “I’ll let Breckin explain. He talks faster, anyway.”
I spin around in my seat as Holder begins backing out of the driveway. I arch an eyebrow at Breckin.
He shoots me a clear look of guilt. “I’ve sort of had a double alliance going on for about two weeks now,” he says sheepishly.
I shake my head, attempting to wrap this confession around my mind. I glance back and forth between them. “Two weeks? You guys have been talking for two weeks? Without me? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was sworn to secrecy,” Breckin says.
“But…”
“Turn around and put your seatbelt on,” Holder says to me.
I glare at him. “In a minute. I’m trying to figure out why you made up with Breckin two weeks ago, but it took you until today to make up with me.”
He glances at me, then looks back at the road in front of him. “Breckin deserved an apology. I acted like an a*shole that day.”
“And I didn’t deserve one?”
He looks at me dead on this time. “No,” he says firmly, turning his gaze back to the road. “You don’t deserve words, Sky. You deserve actions.”
I stare at him, wondering how long he stayed up at night forming that perfect sentence. He glances back at me and lets go of my hand, then tickles the top of my thigh. “Quit being so serious. Your boyfriend and your very best friend in the whole wide world are taking you to a flea market.”
I laugh and slap his hand away. “How can I feel happy when my alliance has been infiltrated? You two have a hell of a lot of kissing up to do today.”
Breckin rests his chin on the top of my headrest and looks down at me. “I think I’ve been the one that suffered the most out of this ordeal. Your boyfriend has ruined my last two Friday nights in a row, moping and whining about how much he wants you but how he doesn’t want to let you down and blah, blah, blah. It’s been rough not complaining to you about him at lunch every day.”
Holder darts his head back toward Breckin. “Well, now you two can complain about me all you want. Life is back to how it should be.” He slides his fingers through mine and squeezes my hand. My skin tingles and I’m not sure if it’s from his touch or his words.
“I still think I deserve an ass kissing today,” I say to both of them. “I want you to buy me whatever I want at the flea market. I don’t care how much it costs or how big and heavy it is.”
“Damn straight,” Breckin says.
I groan. “Oh, God, Holder’s already rubbing off on you.”
Breckin laughs and reaches over the seat to grab my hands, then pulls me toward him. “He must be, because I really want to cuddle you in the backseat right now,” Breckin says.
“I’m not rubbing off on you that much if you think I’d only be cuddling her in a backseat,” Holder says. He slaps me on the ass right before I fall into the back with Breckin.
“You can’t be serious,” Holder says, holding the saltshaker I just placed in his hands. We’ve been walking around the flea market for over an hour now and I’m sticking to my plan. They’re buying me whatever the hell I want. I have a betrayal to overcome and it’s going to take a lot of random purchases before I feel better.
I look at the figurine in his hands and nod. “You’re right. I should get the matching set.” I pick up the peppershaker and hand it to him. They aren’t anything I would ever want. I’m not sure how they could be anything anyone would ever want. Who makes ceramic salt and peppershakers fashioned out of small and large intestines?
“I bet they belonged to a doctor,” Breckin says, admiring them with me. I reach into Holder’s pocket and pull out his wallet, then turn to the man behind the table. “How much?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says, unenthusiastically. “A dollar each?”
“How about a dollar for both?” I ask. He takes the dollar out of my hands and nods us away.
“Way to bargain,” Holder says, shaking his head. “These better be on your kitchen table next time I come over.”
“Gross, no,” I say. “Who’d want to stare at guts while they eat?”
We browse a few more pavilions until we reach the pavilion Karen and Jack are set up in. When we reach their booth, Karen does a double take, eyeing Breckin and Holder.
“Hey,” I say, holding out my hands. “Surprise!”
Jack jumps up and walks around the booth, giving me a quick hug. Karen follows him and is eyeing me guardedly the entire time.
“Relax,” I say, after seeing her eye both Holder and Breckin with concern. “Neither one of them are getting me pregnant this weekend.”
She laughs and finally wraps her arms around me. “Happy Birthday.” She pulls back and her motherly instincts kick in about fifteen seconds too late. “Wait. Why are you here? Is everything okay? Are you okay? Is the house okay?”
“It’s fine. I’m fine. I was just bored so I asked Holder to come shopping with me.”
Holder is behind me introducing himself to Jack. Breckin slips past me and gives Karen a hug. “I’m Breckin,” he says. “I’m in an alliance to overtake the public school system and all its minions with your daughter.”
“Was,” I clarify, glaring at Breckin. “He was in an alliance with me.”
“I like you already,” Karen says, smiling at Breckin. She looks past me at Holder and shakes his hand. “Holder,” she says politely. “How are you?”
“Good,” he says, his response guarded. I look at him and he appears extremely uncomfortable. I don’t know if it’s the salt and peppershakers he’s holding, or the fact that seeing Karen this time has a different effect, now that he’s dating her daughter. I try to deflect the mood by turning around and asking Karen if she has a sack we can use for our things. She reaches under the table and holds it out to Holder. He places the shakers inside and she looks down into the sack and back up at me questionably.
“Don’t ask,” I say. I take the sack from her and open it up so Breckin can place the other purchase inside. It’s a small, wood-framed picture of the word “melt,” written in black ink on white paper. It was twenty-five cents and made absolutely no sense, so of course I had to have it.
A couple of customers walk to the table so both Jack and Karen walk around the booth and begin helping them. I turn around and Holder is eyeing both of them with a hard look in his eyes. I haven’t seen him with an expression like this since that day in the cafeteria. It unnerves me a little, so I walk up to him and slide my arm around his back, desperately wanting that look to go away.
“Hey,” I say, pulling his focus down to me. “You okay?”
He nods and kisses me on the forehead. “I’m good,” he says. He wraps his arm around my waist and smiles down at me reassuringly. “You promised me funnel cake,” he says, brushing my cheek with his hand.
I nod, relieved to see he’s okay. I don’t really want Holder having one of his intense moments right now in front of Karen. I don’t know that she’ll quite understand his passionate approach to life like I’m starting to.
“Funnel cake?” Breckin says. “Did you say funnel cake?”
I turn back around and Karen’s customer is gone. She’s standing frozen behind the table, eyeing the arm that’s wrapped around my waist. She looks pale.
What’s the deal with everyone and their weird looks today?
“You okay?” I ask her. It’s not like she’s never seen me with a boyfriend before. Matt practically lived at our house the entire month I dated him.
She looks up at me, then glances at Holder briefly. “I just didn’t realize you two were dating.”
“Yeah. About that,” I say. “I would have told you, but we sort of just started dating about four hours ago.”
“Oh,” she says. “Well…you look cute together. Can I talk to you?” She nudges her head behind her, indicating she wants privacy. I slip my arm out of Holder’s and follow her to a safe speaking distance. She spins around and shakes her head.
“I don’t know how I feel about this,” she says, talking in a low whisper.
“About what? I’m eighteen and I have a boyfriend. Big deal.”
She sighs. “I know, it’s just…what happens tonight? When I’m not there? How do I know he won’t hang around all night?”
I shrug. “You don’t. You just have to trust me,” I say, instantly feeling guilty for the lie. If she knew he already spent last night with me, I think it’s safe to say Holder would no longer be my breathing boyfriend.
“It’s just weird, Sky. We’ve never really discussed guy rules for when I’m not home.” She looks extremely nervous, so I do what I can to ease her mind.
“Mom? Trust me. We literally just agreed to start dating a few hours ago. There’s no way anything will happen between us that you fear might happen. He’ll be gone by midnight, I promise.”
She nods unconvincingly. “It’s just…I don’t know. Seeing the two of you just now with your arms around each other? The way both of you were interacting? It’s not the way new couples look at each other, Sky. It just threw me off because I thought maybe you’ve been seeing him for a while but you’ve been keeping it from me. I want you to be able to talk to me about anything.”
I grab her hand and squeeze it. “I know, Mom. And believe me, if we wouldn’t have came here together today I would have told you all about him tomorrow. I’d probably have talked your ear off. I’m not keeping anything hidden from you, okay?”
She smiles and gives me a quick squeeze. “I still expect you to talk my ear off about him tomorrow.”
Saturday, September 29th, 2012 10:15 p.m.
“Sky, wake up.”
I lift my head off of Breckin’s arm and wipe drool off the side of my cheek. He looks down at his wet shirt and grimaces.
“Sorry,” I laugh. “You shouldn’t be so comfortable.”
We’ve arrived back at his house after spending eight hours walking and perusing junk. Holder and Breckin finally gave in and we all got a little competitive, seeing who could find the most random object. I think I still won with the gut shakers, but Breckin came in a close second with a velvet painting of a puppy riding on the back of a unicorn.
“Don’t forget your painting,” I say when he steps out of the car. He leans in and grabs the painting from the floorboard, then kisses my cheek.
“See you Monday,” he says to me. He looks up at Holder. “Don’t think you’re getting my seat first period now just because she’s your girlfriend.”
Holder laughs. “I’m not the one bringing her coffee every morning. I doubt she’d let me overthrow you.”
Breckin shuts the door and Holder waits until he’s inside his house before he leaves. “What do you think you’re doing back there?” he says, smiling at me in the rearview mirror. “Get up here.”
I shake my head and remain put. “I sort of like having a chauffer.”
He puts the car in park and unbuckles his seatbelt, then turns around in his seat. “Come here,” he says, reaching for my arms. He grabs my wrists and pulls me forward until our faces are just inches apart. He lifts his hands to my face and smashes my cheeks together like I’m a little kid. He gives me a loud peck on my squished together lips. “I had fun today,” he says. “You’re kind of weird.”
I cock my eyebrow, not sure if he just complimented me or not. “Thanks?”
“I like weird. Now get your ass in the front seat with me before I climb in the backseat and not cuddle you.” He pulls my arm forward and I climb into the front seat, then put my seatbelt on.
“What are we doing now? Your house?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Nope. One more stop.”
“My house?”