“Just because you made a mistake doesn’t mean I will.”
“Sophie.” I give her a look. “Stop that. Anything I say is only because I care about you. Disregard whatever you want, but my job is to take care of you.”
She’s staring at me. Her mouth a hard line. She looks so much like Andrew in this moment that I falter, but then I press on. “I’m just suggesting you might want to slow things down a little. This is your last year of school. Spend time with friends, have fun.”
She stands up. “Can I go? I’m not hungry.”
“Sure.” I pull her plate in front of me and pick at her salad, but I’m not very hungry anymore either. I botched that one well and truly. I hear a chirp, and realize she left her phone on the table. I stare at it for a moment, then slide it closer and look at the text.
I can’t stop thinking about you. Your body, your lips …
My face infuses with heat. I push the phone away just as Sophie comes back into the kitchen and snatches it up. She flicks a look at me and I stare down at the plates.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
SOPHIE
I should be happy. It’s my birthday and Mom took me out for pizza, gave me a beautiful silver snowflake necklace, and didn’t make me feel bad about wanting to spend the rest of the evening with my friends, but I keep thinking about my dad.
The coroner ruled his death an accident. He died of a broken neck. Mom says it would have been very fast. But I still think about him falling, how he might have tried to stop himself as he tumbled down. I could tell by the questions the cops asked in the first interview that they were suspicious that he was pushed, but I guess in the end they didn’t find anything unusual.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. When I try to draw, I can’t get into it, and I failed a chemistry test this week. It’s like everything went out of my head. My mom got a call from a lawyer who handled my dad’s business and I’m supposed to be getting some money when I turn twenty-five and all my schooling will be paid for. Dad left Mom money too, but she refuses to take it and asked the estate to give it to me. I don’t know if I even want the money. I haven’t told Jared or Delaney. I could go to any school I want now. But only because my dad is dead.
I told him to disappear. That’s the part that bothers me the most.
Jared hands me another drink. I’m not sure how many I’ve had now. We’ve also smoked a joint, blowing puffs into each other’s mouths. The room bends and spins, the music pulses, and now I’m thinking maybe none of it matters. I should take the money. I could buy a car, a house, and have my friends over all the time. Why shouldn’t I have fun?
I’m giggling, but I can’t remember who told the joke. Delaney is making out with Matthew on the other couch. Jared is holding my hand. “Come on, let’s go,” he says. I follow him down the hall to his bedroom. Laughing as I bump into his back and against the walls.
I flop down on his bed, feel the mattress shift when he lies down beside me. My stomach spins. I sit up to take some breaths. He pushes the hair out of my face, caresses my cheek. I turn to face him and he presses his mouth against mine. He tastes like rum, and something bitter. I’m holding the bottle in my hands. I take a swill from it straight and he laughs. I feel strong, brave, and I laugh too. I can be this girl. I can be this wild reckless girl.
Our clothes are off, but I don’t really remember when it happens. I’m naked and I think I should be shy, but I don’t feel shy. I’m brave! I’m flying. I’m numb. His body is rolling on top of mine and his hand is reaching for something in his drawer. Right. A condom. I’m laughing, thinking how funny this all is. I’m going to lose my virginity. On my birthday!
Two days after my dad’s funeral. I don’t want to laugh now. Everything feels all restless and hot in my head and my body. I keep thinking about my dad. Why was he in our house?
Jared is on top of me, his mouth nipping at my neck and his hands on my hips. He thinks we’re going to have sex. I haven’t said I wanted to do it. But I haven’t said I don’t want to.
I don’t know what I want. I feel like I should say something, but his mouth is over mine and it’s kind of hard to breathe and I can’t lift my arms and my legs feel all wobbly and I just want to close my eyes and sleep and listen to the music and it feels good not to think about anything. He pauses and whispers against my lips, “Do you want to?”
I don’t want him to talk. I want to listen to the music. I pull him down on top of me. Then I feel him pushing up between my legs and there’s pain, a burning, and I whimper and try to get away from the pain but I can’t really move, and he’s panting in my ears and saying he loves me and tears are leaking out of my eyes.
When it’s over we lie still in the dark. His skin is sticky against mine and he’s nestled against my side, kissing my shoulder and my neck, his hand stroking my hair.