Close to Me

by Monica Murphy

  It’s when I hear sniffles that I realize Rylie is crying. I glance over to find she’s sitting with her head bowed, clutched hands resting in her lap. She’s wringing her fingers, the tears falling onto her hands, and I scoot closer to her, slipping my arm around her shoulders and giving her a squeeze.

  We’ve barely said more than twenty words to each other in the years we’ve gone to school together, but I hate seeing her pain.

  “He won’t talk to me,” she finally says, her voice trembling. “I keep texting him and he won’t respond. I don’t know where he’s at, or how badly he’s been injured. All the rumors are scaring me so bad, and everyone keeps coming up to me since we’re together and I look like an idiot, because I. Don’t. Know!”

  The last three words explode out of her and then she starts sobbing in earnest. I think about what she said, that they’re together, when he claimed last night that they’re not. Who’s telling the truth here?

  I don’t know.

  All I can do is hold Rylie as she cries, pat her back, make sympathetic sounds. I let her get it all out, glaring at anyone who dares to check on us, but there are very few. When she finally quiets, her crying minimalized to a few hiccups and lots of sniffles, I say something.

  “He’s safe. He stayed at my house last night.”

  Rylie pushes away from me, her tear-filled eyes wide. She’s really pretty, even when she cries—blonde and pink-cheeked, with golden eyes. No wonder Ash is drawn to her. “He’s safe? He stayed at your house?” She rests a hand over her chest. “Your dad is a hero.”

  He is my hero, and I don’t like hearing anyone talk about him like that. Makes me feel possessive. “He did the right thing. They were supposed to take Ash to a doctor this morning. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t responded to your texts yet.”

  Relief makes Rylie sag a little, and she exhales raggedly. “So he was never in the hospital. Or jail.”

  “No. He’s moving slower, and he’s definitely been beat up, but it’s not as bad as everyone is making it out to be,” I reassure her. “And he definitely isn’t in jail.”

  “Thank you for letting me know.” Her gaze meets mine, direct and so grateful. This girl is an open book. “Thank you for…” Her voice drifts and she slowly shakes her head. “For letting me cry on your shoulder. Literally.”

  We both laugh a little. “You’re welcome. You’re the only person I thought who should know, since you two are—together.”

  It took me a second to get that last word out, like the lameass I am. I need to get over my weird feelings for Ash, once and for all. We’re nothing. We’ve never really been anything. All that crap he said to me last year was just that—crap. He didn’t mean a word of it. Plus, he has Rylie now, even if he denies it.

  She appears to be totally into him.

  “You know, I always thought you two got together when I was a freshman and you were sophomores.” Rylie tilts her head, contemplating me. “During homecoming.”

  I sit up straighter, my spine rigid. Not something I want to talk about. No one really paid attention to us during that time.

  At least, that’s what I thought.

  “I’ve liked Ash for years, since the beginning of my freshman year. So I couldn’t help but notice you two together during homecoming week and I was soooo jealous.” Rylie laughs and laughs, but what she said wasn’t that funny. “Dumb.”

  “We weren’t together,” I say, my voice low.

  “Ash said the same exact thing when I asked him about it.” She giggles, her gaze meeting mine. “I confronted him about you.”

  She confronted him about me? That seems like a strong choice of words.

  “He said he’s never liked you like that,” she continues, her lips tilted upward in a closed-mouth smile. “ He reassured me I was just seeing things.”

  Her words are like a direct stab to the heart. Did he actually say that and mean it? I’m sure he did.

  The asshole.

  “I was surprised when you broke up with Ben,” Rylie continues, one delicate eyebrow arching.

  Not wanting to ruminate over my past relationships, I rise to my feet and change the subject. “Are you going to be okay?”

  “Oh. Yes. Of course.” Rylie stands as well, then spontaneously pulls me into a hug. She clings tight, leaving me no choice but to hug her back before I pull myself out of her sticky grip. “Thank you again, Autumn. It means so much, that you told me he’s okay. I’ve been worried sick.”

  I forget about what Ash said. I forget everything but this poor girl, and I squeeze her again before releasing her. “You’re welcome. I’m sure he’ll text you soon.”

  “I hope so. Maybe I could even…” Her voice drifts and her eyes light up. “Come over to your house sometime soon? So I can see him? I need to see him.” She sounds almost…

  Desperate.

  And besides, that is the absolute last thing I want to happen. Seeing them together, her fussing over him while he’s hurt, will make their relationship one hundred percent real.

  And maybe I don’t want to witness that. Not yet.

  “We’ll see,” I tell her, because I can’t answer for Ash, or my parents. “Bye Rylie.”

  “Bye.”

  Later that night, I’m in my room watching some boring-ass movie on Netflix when I receive a text from Ash.

  We should talk.

  My heart starts to race. I only got home not even an hour ago because of practice, and then Kaya and I went to dinner. I know she wanted to pick my brain over Ash, though she never brought him up. Meaning I didn’t either. She’s probably mad at me, or at the very least irritated that I won’t talk about it.

  Too bad. She’ll find out when I can actually tell the story.

  Since I’ve only been home for a little while, I haven’t seen Ash. Or Dad, for that matter. Mom told me they were together in his office when I got home, and I wasn’t about to disturb them.

  Deciding I need to answer Ash, I send him a reply. Why?

  He immediately starts typing, the gray bubble appearing.

  Meet me outside? By the pool?

  Sighing out loud, I answer. Sure.

  I run a brush through my hair and make sure I look presentable. I don’t even want to talk to him. We have nothing to say to each other. Talking to Rylie, seeing how upset she was over what happened to Ash and how he was ignoring her, confirmed that I needed to leave him alone. Let the past stay in the past. We never amounted to much back then, and we’re certainly not going to amount to much now.

  He even said so. He never liked me that way. Rylie was just seeing things.

  I hate that her words bothered me, but they did. They still do. It’s almost worse that she said it versus hearing it come from Ash’s mouth. All this time I thought he felt the same way I did about us. That our timing was never right. That’s what I always believed.

  But no. He doesn’t like me that way. He never did. Proving that everything he said to me was a lie. He’s still an unfeeling asshole. Considering his circumstances, I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s trouble.

  Or troubled, as Mom puts it. And who needs that?

  Not me.

  Realizing I don’t really care what I look like when I go talk to Ash, I toss the brush onto my vanity and leave my room, making my way down the stairs and to the door that leads from the kitchen to the backyard. The pathway lights are on—they always are, they’re powered by solar—and I can see Ash stretched out on one of the lounge chairs, looking very comfortable. As if he belongs here.

  Well, he doesn’t. I need to talk to my parents and find out when he’s going to leave. I already know Jake doesn’t like having him here. He said as much on our drive to school this morning. He’s afraid Dad’s going to forget all about him and focus on Ash. I can’t imagine our father doing that, but who knows? Stranger things have happened.

  “Took you long enough,” Ash calls when he spots me.

  I remain quiet until I’m standing at the foot of his lounge chair. I rest
my hands on my hips, glaring at him. “You can’t yell like that. You might wake someone up.”

  He raises his brows. “Like who? Your parents’ bedroom is in the front of the house. I’m sure they can’t hear us. And I doubt your sister or brother care.”

  Ava would totally care, the little sneak. Jake would just be pissed. For some reason, he views Ash as the enemy. I think he’s just jealous of him. “My little brother is sleeping.”

  Beck can sleep through anything. Not that Ash needs to know that.

  “Oh. He won’t hear us.” He waves a hand at the lounge chair next to me. “You should sit down.”

  “Why?” I cross my arms “I have homework to finish.”

  “Fine, let’s get right to it.” He leans back, giving me a chance to really check him out, and I swear he looks worse than he did this morning. All the bruises have become darker, and the cut above his eye is now stitched versus bandaged. “You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone what happened to me, or where I was.”

  “I didn’t,” I start, but he cuts me off.

  “You told Rylie.”

  I clamp my lips shut, staring at him. He looks…pissed. “She’s your girlfriend, Ash. She came to me crying, she was so worried about you. I thought you would want her to know.”

  “I wanted no one to know. What part of that did you not understand?” His voice is cold. Like ice. His expression is like stone. “You promised. I thought I could trust you. And you blab your mouth to the first person who asks.”

  “I didn’t blab my mouth, you asshole. I told your sobbing girlfriend, who was going out of her mind with worry over where you were by the way, so she would calm down. All she wanted was to know you were all right, and you didn’t have the decency to answer her texts. Which is some straight-up bullshit, if you ask me,” I tell him, swallowing hard. Blood is pounding in my head, in my ears, I’m so pissed. I can’t believe he’s calling me out for this when he’s the dick who couldn’t bother to tell his poor girlfriend he’s alive.

  “A promise is a promise,” he says solemnly. “And you broke it.”

  I gape at him, my mind scrambling to come up with something to say. He’s being ridiculous. Can he not see I did the right thing?

  “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” he goes on, looking away from me. “Everyone breaks their promises eventually, right?”

  “I thought…” I start, but he whirls around to face me, rising to his feet, positioning himself so he looms over me, making me feel smaller than I already am.

  “You made a fucking promise, Callahan. You said you wouldn’t tell anyone, yet you told Rylie, who now won’t stop texting me. She wants to see me, she wants to take care of me, she wants to come over, and honestly? I don’t need her shit right now. I don’t need anyone’s shit. I’m trying to figure this out, and I’m in fucking hiding. Did you know my mom’s asshole boyfriend claims he wants to press charges against me? Isn’t that funny? If Don finds out I’m here, the cops will show up and cart me away to jail. He already turned in the drugs he found in my room to the police. I’m fucked.”

  Drugs? What sort of drugs? I can’t ask that right now.

  “Rylie would never tell him…”

  “No, but she could tell someone, and then they tell someone, and it goes on until they find my ass. Now I’ll have to go somewhere else. And I’ve got nowhere else. This is it.” He reaches out, poking the center of my chest with his index finger. And that one little jab freaking hurts. “You. Fucked. This. Up.”

  He has a lot of nerve, blaming all of his problems on me. I guess he’s right that I shouldn’t have told Rylie anything. I should probably feel bad, but I also can’t help but think he’s acting like a complete asshole.

  “The police will probably come here anyway, since everyone on the team saw you with my dad,” I point out, but he doesn’t even flinch. God, I hate him. “I was trying to help you.”

  “You’re never a help. Ever. More like you’re a giant pain in my ass.”

  “Fuck you!” I shove at him, and he goes stumbling backward, teetering on the edge of the pool deck. He’s about to fall, I know he is and I reach out, taking one of his hands, and instead of keeping him upright, he tugs me right along with him.

  Straight into the water.

  Oh, and it’s cold. Shockingly so. Once Labor Day passes, we usually stop using the pool for the year, with the exception of Beck, who’ll jump in when one of his little friends dare him to, which is basically every other weekend.

  I pop up out of the water first, gasping, the water streaming down my face. Ash appears only a few seconds later, making these snorting sounds that concern me at first, until I realize…

  He’s laughing.

  “What the fuck, Callahan? You pushed me in the pool!” He sounds shocked. Maybe even a little…

  Impressed?

  “And you pulled me in right along with you,” I mutter, reaching up to push my hair out of my face. I never look good in a pool. Some girls can pull off the slicked hair, strutting around in a bikini look, but I’m not one of them. I’m short and a little pudgy in the middle, and my boobs are so damn big. My hair always goes everywhere, usually streaking across my face in a knotted mess, and I swear, I really do wear waterproof mascara, but I always end up looking like a raccoon with thick black rings under my eyes.

  But I’m not in a bikini, and I scrubbed off what little makeup I wear to school right when I first got home, before I hopped in the shower. I’m wearing an old cheer team T-shirt that just so happens to be white, and a pair of sleep shorts with no freaking undies beneath them, meaning I am pretty much naked. The shirt will cling to me, as will the shorts, and while I keep myself mostly trim down there, I’m not shaved or waxed bare, so he’ll probably see my nipples and my freaking bush if I climb out of the pool right now.

  No. Nope. Not going to happen.

  “Get me a towel,” I demand, and he starts laughing even harder, shaking his head as he stares at me.

  “Hell no. You’re the one who pushed me in the pool. Get your own damn towel.” He splashes me with water and I shift away from him.

  He’s right. I should be glad he’s laughing now, considering only moments ago he was super pissed at me.

  With an outraged growl I make my way toward the shallow end and hurriedly climb out of the pool, keeping my back to him as I stomp my way toward the deck box where we keep the towels. I fling the lid open and rummage around for my favorite one, pulling it out and wrapping it around my shoulders. The towel’s big enough that I’m pretty much covered except my legs, so I don’t feel as exposed.

  I hear water splash, and I turn to watch Ash climb out of the pool, his soaked clothes clinging to his long, rangy body. He tears off his T-shirt, letting it fall to the ground with a wet plop, and my gaze greedily roams over his broad chest. Then he reaches for the waistband of his navy athletic shorts, shoving those off too, until he’s standing before me in nothing but his black boxer briefs.

  My still greedy gaze drops to his front, and my cheeks grow warm. Not like he’s sporting a boner or anything, but I can tell it’s…

  Impressive.

  “Quit checking out my junk and get me a towel,” he demands.

  “Get your own fucking towel,” I tell him, slamming the deck box lid closed with extra force.

  “You’re not going to help me? Even after everything you did?” He raises his brows.

  “I did nothing!” I throw my hands up as best I can, refusing to apologize for telling his girlfriend he’s, you know, alive. “So no, I’m not going to help you.”

  “You leave me no choice then.” His hands rest on his hips, and then with one quick jerk, he sheds the briefs and kicks them off.

  Oh I look. For a solid five seconds, which isn’t very long at all, before I turn away from him. I saw everything. Everything! I can’t believe he freaking did that!

  I open the deck box once more and grab a towel, the biggest one we own, the one my dad always likes to use, and hold out
my arm behind me, the towel dangling from my fingers. “Take it.”

  Nothing happens for long, agonizing seconds, and I clutch my towel around me even tighter, waving my other hand so the fresh towel flips this way and that, like a giant flag dragging on the ground. “Take it!” I repeat a little louder.

  Wet footsteps draw closer and then he’s tugging the towel from my grip, his fingers trailing across mine. That didn’t have to happen, it’s like he did it on purpose, and I bite back the curse that wants to escape when tingles erupt from the simple brush of our fingers.

  I react to him no matter what. He’s yelling at me, I’m disgusted with him, we’re arguing, yet I still feel the spark.

  I hate that stupid spark with everything I’ve got.

  “Thanks,” he drawls, his confident voice grating on my nerves. “You can look now. Nothing to see.”

  “You sure?”

  “I don’t lie like you do,” he retorts, and my head whips toward him to find he’s smiling at me. Though his eyes are dark. Serious. “You act like you’ve never seen a dick before.”

  “I’m looking at one right now,” I respond with a serene smile, making him chuckle under his breath.

  “Good one, Callahan. You’re always good for a fight.”

  “I’m sure that’s all I’m good for with you. Since, you know, you never liked me like that and your girlfriend was only seeing things.”

  The second the words are out, I want them back. I want to stuff them down my throat and swallow them so they disappear.

  Too late. Ash is studying me with seeming confusion, his head cocked, water dripping from his hair. He has the towel wrapped around his waist so his entire torso is on display, rivulets of water dripping across the stretch of muscles and taut skin, and I look away, hating how breathless I suddenly feel.

  “What are you talking about?” he finally asks.

  “Nothing,” I say too quickly, keeping my head averted. “I need to go inside.”

  I start to walk away, but he grabs my hand, halting me. I turn to find him watching me, his gaze questioning. “What did Rylie say to you?”

  “Nothing,” I repeat. “Let me go.”