“No * can be worth jail time, bro. Don’t do it!”
That got everyone laughing so loud, the sudden roar made me jump, and Knox growled. His friends from outside were whispering urgently to him, but Knox didn’t seem to be listening to them.
“The guy is about to start college, Harlow! You really gonna force him into jail before he gets that chance?”
My breaths were coming fast—too fast. Embarrassment flooded me, even though I had no idea what was going on. I looked back at Knox’s blank face and pleaded with him to help me understand. “What are they talking about?”
He slowly turned his head to face me and offered me a weak smile. “It doesn’t matter. Just ignore them.”
Hayley was suddenly behind us on the couch, and her lips were at my ear. “Let’s go.”
“I don’t underst—”
“Knox is eighteen,” she said, cutting me off.
“And?”
“Which now makes you a minor for him. It’s illegal for you two to have any kind of sexual relationship.”
“We don’t!” I hissed.
“I would never—” Knox began, and pushed his friends away when they urged him to leave, but Hayley’s next words were all I heard.
“I know you wouldn’t do anything with him yet, Harlow. But since he’s not worried about hiding that he likes you, if anyone mentioned that the two of you did do something, he could go to jail. You two just being together the way you are right now puts him at risk.”
All the blood drained from my face, and I could no longer hear the laughing, the jokes, or Hayley even though I knew she was still talking to me. I turned to face Knox again; the frustration and defeat were clear in his eyes.
I tried pulling my hand from his, and he squeezed tighter. “Harlow, I don’t care.”
“I do! I can’t do this to you.”
When I pulled again, he didn’t try to stop me. Standing from the couch, I forced my way through everyone and to the stairs—ignoring their razzing and the tears that had started falling down my cheeks. I heard Hayley and Neil behind me as I climbed my way up, and soon there was only one set of footsteps following me. I was halfway across the lawn, my eyes blinking rapidly against the pouring rain when I was turned around.
I flinched away from Knox. “Don’t!” I snapped. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I decided it didn’t matter.”
“How could that not matter?”
“I know I wouldn’t do anything illegal with you.”
I flung my hands out toward the house, and my eyes caught Knox’s two friends standing near the door with arms crossed over their chests as they watched us. Looking back at Knox, I hissed, “According to Hayley, it doesn’t matter if we do or don’t do anything illegal. If someone said something—God. I can’t do this to you, Knox.” He wrapped his arms around me, and held tight even when I tried to push away. “Don’t do this; we can’t risk anything.”
“Then I’ll wait for you, Harlow,” he promised, and the sincerity in the words stunned me for long seconds. “I’ll wait until you’re eighteen.”
Pushing against his chest, I shook my head. “For two and a half years, Knox? For a girl you barely know? Who can promise that after a week and a half?”
“I—”
“No, I can’t do that to you or me. I get it now—what was so wrong the other night at the concert when you found out how old I was; I get it. You should have told me that this was what you were worried about.”
“Yeah, I should have. I also shouldn’t have stayed out there with you, or called you, but I couldn’t help it. I told you; it doesn’t matter to me. Do you think I usually go after girls your age?” His dark eyes searched mine, and he continued talking without giving me enough time to answer. “No, I don’t, but there is something about you that calls to me. I knew that to continue even talking to you was dangerous because I would keep falling way too fast. But I did, knowing I would be eighteen soon, knowing something like this might happen.”
“I didn’t!” I said too loudly, my hand pressed firmly to my chest. “I cannot let you go into something that puts you at any kind of risk. Or that would be as uncomfortable as that was.” I pointed to the house. “I won’t do that to you.” He started to speak, and I talked over him. “And I can’t let you promise something to me that I can’t even promise you. Two and a half years? You’re eighteen and about to start college. You shouldn’t have to promise me anything. I know I don’t always act my age, but I am still fifteen. And as shitty as the truth sounds, I don’t see boys in terms of years and futures together. I see them in the now, what they make me feel right this second. I can’t even promise you the summer—let alone two and a half years.”
“And yet, you’re crying,” he said gently.