I roll my eyes–
And he’s kissing me, fast and sweet. He leans back onto the bed and I follow him, our heads hitting the pillow side by side. He pulls away for a moment, dark eyes searching mine. The way he looks at me makes me feel like I can dive into frigid waters, flip and land on my feet and do it all over again.
This time, I lean in first. My hand slides up the back of his neck, catching his curls. His lips smile against mine. When I slide my hand across his jaw, feeling the way it tenses and flexes, he lets out a soft sigh.
Then the kiss slows down. His thumbs glide over my abdomen, down my back, press lightly on my hips in small, gentle circles. This is not the farewell kiss outside of my house. It’s a curious kiss in a small blue bedroom with no one outside of the walls. It wonders what’s next.
He’s so close. So warm.
His fingers work their way under my shirt and brush against my back. A pause in the movement–is this okay?–and when I don’t resist, his palm sweeps over my stomach, just under my belly button. My abdominals clench reflexively and he chuckles softly. “Abs of steel,” he whispers into my ear, and I shiver. His hand glides up over my torso like a road through a mountain, curving around my back in long arches, and I freeze.
“You okay?” he says quietly.
I nod before I can psych myself out. It’s not this moment that frightens me. It’s the thought of the ones that may follow.
His hand slips away. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable–”
I trap his hand with mine.
“I’m–” he begins.
“Stop apologizing.”
Our eyes lock.
“Okay,” he breathes after a moment. His hand, cautious now, moves to the front and I close my eyes.
I want to be able to tug off that shirt and pin him on his back, relishing the look of surprise on his face. That’s what Cassie would do in this situation. Take control, the way she does with everything, and make it her own.
But I’m the girl who hesitates, considers, takes days to write an essay. When his fingers slide, I blurt out, “What was it like when you found Cassie that morning?”
“Is that really what you’re thinking about right now?” he says, eyes half-closed, breath brushing my lips.
“It popped in accidentally.”
“Interesting,” he says, moving in to kiss me again.
“What was it like?” I say.
“Cold.” His lips hover just a moment from mine. “It kept running through my mind as I pulled her out of the water. It was damn cold.”
Pale skin with the edges turned blue and purple.
And I had no idea.
“She survived.” Marcos rests his forehead against mine. “That’s what matters.”
The Cassie I thought I knew walked out of her car and under the bridge. The one who returned spoke just like her, laughed like her, made the same rash decisions as her. But she had gone somewhere none of us had been.
“Warmer thoughts,” he says, and cups my chin.
I close my eyes and see water.
The longer he kisses me, the sooner I don’t see anything at all.
WE FALL ASLEEP in his bed, and I wake up to “Stairway to Heaven” playing. I fumble for my phone, forgetting that I’m not at home, and hit him on the nose.
“Thanks,” he mutters, opening his eyes and grinning at me. His eyes are sleepy, his curls stick up every which way, and I ignore my phone to lean forward and kiss him again.
“You make for a great alarm clock, minus the hitting thing,” he mumbles, drawing me close to him and nuzzling my shoulder.
“Stairway to Heaven” starts up again. Marcos wears a look of concern usually reserved for challenging math problems and crumbs from Victor’s snacks. “Do you need to get home?”
“I don’t think so.” I finally unearth the phone from under one of Marcos’s sweatshirts.
Cassie.
Something must be wrong for her to call me twice in a row.
“Everything okay?” I answer. Marcos’s arms wrap around my waist and my head falls back onto the pillow. I could definitely get used to this.
“Did you talk to him yet?” she says.
“I’m great, thanks, and you?” I try to duck away from Marcos so that he can’t hear, but in this tiny space, that’s damn near impossible. Juliana can probably hear from next door.
“You’re avoiding the issue,” she says firmly. Fleetingly, I think of getting up and running into another room, or pretending I have poor service and hanging up.
Marcos’s arms go slack.
“Everything’s fine,” I say.
“It’s not going to stay fine and you know it,” she says. “I thought we agreed.”
By now Marcos has pulled away completely, sitting up against the wall. His eyes are a storm.
“I gotta go.” I hang up and toss the phone away with a shaky hand.
“Let me guess,” Marcos says flatly. His relaxed sleepiness has completely shifted to rigidness, guardedness, and my palms sweat. “Cassie wants you to break things off with me. You agreed, if I heard correctly.”
I lick my lips, still swollen from all of the kissing. “Yeah,” I whisper.
“Let me ask you this.” He leans forward, taking my sweaty hands in his. “What do you want?”
My head swims. Everyone thinks they know what’s best for me. Cassie, Marcos, Vanessa, my father–
Who’s right?
“I want to be with you,” I say, and a small smile parts his lips. “But I don’t like the fighting. You really scared me the other day with Andreas.”
He runs one hand through his curls and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. It was stupid, and I’m grateful as all hell that I didn’t wind up suspended.”
This is good. We can work with this.
“I told you, I can’t just watch the people I care about get hurt,” he says, sounding pained. “Even if they’ve done something stupid to bring it upon themselves. So no, I can’t promise that it won’t happen again.”
My heart sinks. “I don’t think I can deal with that.”
“You can’t deal with it, or Cassie says you can’t?” he challenges. “How do both of you feel about all the racist shit that’s being said and done around here?”