SHE WALKED IN on us. I told her to stay in the bathroom; I didn’t want her to meet the asshole. He was in the middle of telling me what a worthless piece of shit I am, and he wanted to know whose car was blocking the drive. I don’t know if she heard any of the conversation. I hope she didn’t. I told him it belonged to some girl from school. I don’t want him to know anything about her. I try to keep my worlds separate. The Ethan Jamison that attends West Point High who’s loud, outgoing, and probably a little arrogant is a completely different guy from Ethan Jamison, son of Frank and Moira Jamison, eternal screw-up and all around disappointment. Sometimes I feel like a fucking schizophrenic. It’s tiring as hell, but with Blair it’s different. I feel like I don’t need to put on the act. It’s as if she has no expectations of me—it’s liberating, really. If she doesn’t expect anything then I sure as hell can’t let her down.
Her arms tighten around me and break me from my thoughts. I want to stay wrapped up in her forever; she’s warm and soft and fits perfectly against me. I know the second we move apart she’s going to want more answers, and truthfully, I want to give her them, but I’m scared she’ll see me as some weak pathetic wreck. I’m not cool with that, I hate feeling weak. I spend my whole goddamn life trying to act anything but. The last thing on this planet I want is her pity. I don’t think I could take it.
“God, Ethan I’m so sorry.” She steps back to look at me and her eyes are glazed over like she’s about to cry. Fuck, I hope she doesn’t cry, not over me. “Do they hurt still?” She motions to my bruised ribs.
“They're not too bad, I can deal,” I answer, trying to make my voice sound lighter.
“You shouldn’t have to deal! What’s happening isn’t right. You need to tell someone. He can—”
I cut her off before she can finish her sentence.
“Tell who? Huh, my mom knows and does shit about it, I can’t tell the police. For fuck’s sake Blair, he is the goddamn police! Who am I supposed to tell?”
She lets out a sob but it doesn’t deter me and I carry on. “I’m eighteen, a legal adult, and as soon as I graduate I’m outta here. I just need to suck it up for a few more months until college.”
“But…but,” she hiccups and her eyes are pleading with me to tell someone.
“Blair, I can’t tell anyone and neither can you. Okay? Do you understand me? I don’t want to tell anyone, and I don’t want you to tell anyone either. You have to promise me. It’ll be over soon. Promise you won’t say anything. Please.”
She takes a step forward and takes both my hands, linking our fingers.
“I promise,” she says in a whisper that’s almost inaudible. She’s looking down at her feet and I need to see her face.
“Blair, look at me.”
She lifts her head slowly and her cheeks are blotchy and wet from the tears she couldn’t hold back.
“Hey, don’t cry,” I say, trying to soothe her. “I’m okay, everything will be okay. Honestly.”
“Okay…look, what if I talk to my mom, see if you can stay with us? I don’t need to tell her the truth, she’s cool she—”
Her sad voice feels like a knife to my skin, it hurts worse than a blow to the gut and I interrupt her. “I can’t leave my mom. Not like that, he’d go fucking nuts. He’s all for me going to college, if I up and left now, I don’t know what he’d do. I just need to wait a few more months.”
We stand in silence for what feels like forever, the air around us thick with sadness, anger and frustration. Something has changed between us. It feels tangible. There’s a comfort level, a trust that I’ve never experienced with anyone. Ever. I’m hit with the realization that this girl may just have the power to hurt me more than that asshole ever could. The knowledge leaves me feeling raw and exposed. Blair Thomas could destroy me, but somehow I know she won’t.
I collect Blair’s purse out of my car and let her freshen up while I run to the laundry and grab a clean shirt. When I return to the pool house she’s sitting on the futon talking to her mom on the phone. I can hear her mom’s high-pitched angry voice from all the way across the room. Blair’s nose is wrinkled and she’s holding the cell away from her ear as her mom spouts off something about being irresponsible. I offer her a weak smile; I feel bad that she’s in trouble. I should have looked through her cell and texted her mom last night to let her know she was safe. I’m an idiot.
She finishes the call and throws her cell into her purse on the floor, falling back into the seat with a groan.
“Well, that went down well,” she sighs.
“How bad was it? She sounded pretty pissed. I could hear her from all the way over here.”
“Let’s just say I’m probably grounded until I’m thirty; that was the first—and more than likely the last—party I’ll ever go to.”
A laugh escapes me and I can’t help but grin. “Good job. You made the most of it then, huh? I’m pretty sure you’ll be a legend at school on Monday. You out drunk most the guys on the volleyball team.”
“Oh, god,” she groans, pulling her glasses off and pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and finger. “I can’t believe I sang in front of all of them. I’ll be a complete laughing stock.”
“Are you kidding me right now? You were amazing. Trust me, no one will be laughing at you. In fact you kind of stole the band’s thunder.”
Her cheeks redden at the compliment and I think it's my new favorite thing about her. I can make her blush.