“You did, Jo. It might not seem like it, but you did. And God, you are not ugly.”
His hand rose up out of the water and I watched it move to my face. I didn’t stop him. His fingertips touched my cheek and his thumb traced the line of my scar from under my eye down to my jaw.
“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”
It was too much. No one looked at me like this. No one told me I was beautiful. And no boy had ever moved to kiss me like Evan did. His face slowly coming toward mine, his eyes gentle, the warmth of his attention like a roaring fire over me.
He covered my mouth with his and inhaled a little while I exhaled. A little sigh that turned to a soft moan as his mouth opened and mine opened with him, letting him in. I let go. The shields guarding my heart lowered. Evan wasn’t taking, he was giving. His kiss gave me those impossible things I’d desperately wanted all my life: tenderness, consideration, reverence.
I took everything in his kiss, turned it around and gave it all back to him. Willingly. Never once wondering what it would cost me later. No price to be paid, only this moment with this boy. The beauty of time and him and his sweet kiss.
I let go.
He caught me and held me up. My arms went around his bruised and beaten body, and I held him up too. Together, we stood upright and unwavering. I was strong in Evan’s arms. And I never wanted it to end. Ever.
My mouth couldn’t get enough of his sweet, clean taste and the scratch of his stubble on my cheek. The scent of his skin in my nose that carried little particles of his life to me: the pool, the auto shop and his own goodness. We kissed forever, the earth ceased rotating to give us more time.
Evan didn’t try to push me past kissing. His hands never stopped moving but they kept to my back or tangled in my hair. They caressed my face and neck while his mouth explored mine. His gentle sweetness broke me down. It was too much.
I broke our kiss and held him tightly around the neck, buried my face against his warm skin, my body trembling against his. It wasn’t safe to let anyone in this close. I fought to find something to say, to dismiss or joke away the kiss before he could.
He kept holding me.
“This doesn’t happen to girls like me,” I whispered against his neck. “Do you know what I mean?”
God, I hoped so. I couldn’t explain it and didn’t want to try. I was beyond words. And because it was Evan, I didn’t need them.
“I know,” he murmured against my neck. “It doesn’t happen to guys like me, either. Believe me.” He held me tighter. “No one touches me.”
No one touches me.
It wasn’t self-pity. Just a simple fact. The pain and cruelty of his life was buried so deep in him, only faint echoes rose up anymore. I held him tighter.
“You’re shivering,” he said after a moment.
“I know, but I’m not cold.”
He pulled away, smiling gently. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”
He took my hand as we stepped out of the pool, letting go only so we could dry off. I pulled jeans and shirt over my damp suit, the material soaking up pool water and sticking to my skin. The heat had relented a bit: the air carried a slight chill to it for the first time in weeks.
“Next time, I’ll remember a towel,” I said.
Evan took up his shirt—a blue and black plaid flannel—from the lounger and hung it around my shoulders. It left him in only a wife-beater and I could see the gooseflesh broken out over the muscles of his arms and shoulders.
“Won’t you be cold?” I said.
He only shrugged and smiled. The smile stayed on me, and instead of feeling self-conscious, I let myself bask in it.
We looked quite the pair of wet rats walking home, Evan pushing my bike for me. My hair dripped water in our wake, leaving a trail back to the pool. The one place I could live as myself, not the actress I felt everywhere else. We walked slowly, reluctant to return to the real world that felt more like a stage.
On the sidewalk outside my house, Evan dropped the kickstand on my bike and shoved both of his in the front pockets of his jeans. “Listen, Jo, tomorrow… At school…”
“What happens tomorrow?”
“I don’t know. More of the usual horrible shit, I suppose. And I think…it would be better if you…” His words trailed away and his gaze drifted to the ground.
I crossed my arms. “If I what?”
Evan looked at me and I swear I could feel the weight of his pain rest on me. Only for an instant, then he took it back. “I just think it’ll be better if you pretend you don’t know me.”
The words punched me in the gut. My arms dropped to my sides.
Evan went on in his flat, matter-of-fact voice. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to—”
“Shut up,” I said.
He blinked.
“Don’t say that again.” I softened my voice. “Don’t say anything like that ever again. Not to me.”