The Secrets We Keep

by Kimberly Blackadar

The pool party moves into full gear, consisting mostly of Rob’s family and friends. Rob’s sister has a small gaggle of soon-to-be sophomores at the other end of the patio, and since Caitlyn did not get an invite, I remain Chloe’s only friend at the party—that is, until Courtney makes a reappearance almost two hours after her little tirade. She glides through the crowd and finds me again. This time she wears full make-up, a pair of white shorts, and a bright pink tank top.

  “Well, I must be lucky, huh?” I sneer.

  “Well.” She smiles sweetly. “I just came to apologize.”

  I am skeptical. “You feeling okay?”

  “Yes, and actually, I have a little surprise for you.” She outstretches a hand and lifts me off the chaise. We weave through the crowd, across the grassy lawn which separates Courtney’s house from Rob’s, and over to her circular drive.

  She folds her arms across her chest. “Your surprise should here any minute now.”

  “Listen, nothing happened between me and Josh, and I only kept you in the dark to pay you back for what you did to Rob.”

  “You’re not the judge and jury, Callie.”

  I push out a breath. “I was just trying to ease your mind. That’s all.”

  “My mind is at ease, Callie. After all, Josh would never date a girl like you. You’re not good enough for him.”

  “That’s harsh!”

  She glances over at me. “You don’t know me very well, do you?” A devious grin crosses her face, and I get a strange sensation, a hollowing in my stomach, especially when an unfamiliar sports car crawls up her driveway. With tinted windows, I cannot tell who might be the driver of the shiny black Porsche. Ian escapes from the passenger side, nods in my direction, and greets Courtney with a hug. The words, I have a pretty sweet ride, echo in my head as Ryan exits the car. He has on a tight-fitting soft grey T-shirt and a black bathing suit. Sunglasses cover his eyes, and he advances toward me, slowly. My bare feet remain, planted to the ground, unsure of what to say.

  He speaks first. “Courtney said you wanted to apologize—in person.”

  “Well, she lied.” I turn to find her, but she and Ian have already slipped into the house. “Just like you did.”

  He looks shocked. “What are you talking about?”

  “You,” I emphasize, “lied to me. I asked you if you had a girlfriend, and you said no.” He steps forward with an explanation, but I hold up a hand. “I know all about Missy, Ryan.”

  “Um, I was going to tell you.”

  “Really?” my voice sharpens. “When exactly did you plan on telling me?”

  “I don’t know, okay? It’s not that easy—”

  “No, it’s not okay, Ryan. None of this is okay.”

  “Then why the hell am I here?” His hands spread to the sides. “So you can yell at me?”

  “No, this was Courtney’s idea—not mine. She arranged this little meeting to get back at me.”

  “For what?” He returns sharply.

  “I went out with her ex last night,” I offer, seeking revenge for what he did to me.

  “So that’s why you stood me up. You had another date?”

  I put my hands on my hips. “Yep.”

  “So you didn’t think of calling me and letting me know, so I didn’t feel like an idiot at your friend’s front door?”

  “I don’t have your number, and I don’t know your last name…remember?”

  He pushes out a breath. “You could have told Courtney to tell Ian. You could have done something other than humiliate me.”

  I offer a listless “sorry.”

  “So did you have a good time last night?” His question slides out angrily.

  “Yes,” I reply coolly, “thanks for asking.”

  He shakes his head. “And did this guy kiss you too?"

  A flash of the innocent kiss on the cheek plays in my mind. “Yep, he sure did.”

  “What? Are you trying for some record?”

  “Yeah,” I answer, thumbing at the pool party, “so I should get going, so I can add to my list.”

  “You know what? I was wrong about you. You’re exactly like Courtney, aren’t you?” His voice begins to crack. “You just play the game differently.”

  I roll my eyes, a pointless gesture since I’m wearing sunglasses.

  “Tell Ian I’ll pick him up in an hour.”

  I start walking backward. “Tell him yourself.”

  He shakes his head. “You are freaking unbelievable.” He slides back toward his car, opens the door of his Porsche, and climbs inside.

  I keep my eyes fixed on the black Porsche as it rolls into the street. Something doesn’t feel right, but I cannot make any sense of it. I turn and sprint across the grassy lawn, feeling my heart thud in my chest. When I return to the party, I find Rob on my chair next to Chloe, so I sit at the end of hers. “You are not going to believe what just happened to me.”

  Chloe’s eyes widen. “What?”

  “Do you remember that guy Ryan?”

  “No, who’s Ryan?”

  “The cheater,” I answer, realizing that I had never uttered his name in any of our conversations. “Well, Courtney called him and had him come over to her house as some type of revenge for going out with Josh last night.” Chloe drops her jaw. “Now this is the really weird part: When I mentioned that I knew about Missy—that’s his girlfriend, you know?—he didn’t even look surprised. He was all like,” I deepen my voice into a manly baritone, “Um, I was going to tell you.” I shake my head. “What kind of guy acts so nonchalant when a girl finds out that he already has a girlfriend?”

  “Does he play basketball?” Rob asks.

  “Yes,” I answer, wondering why this matters.

  “And he is going to be a senior at Spruce Creek?”

  “Uh-huh,” I return, growing annoyed with his inane questions.

  “Rob,” Chloe glowers at him. “Stop pestering her with questions. Can’t you tell that she’s upset?”

  His eyes remain on his phone as he replies to Chloe. “Yeah, I can tell, but I have one more question for her: Is his name Ryan Winters?”

  “Um, I don’t know his last name,” I say, tossing his possible last name in my head and liking the sound of it, though.

  Rob holds up a picture of Ryan. “Is this him?”

  “Yeah,” I answer meekly.

  Rob takes a deep breath and exhales. “Didn’t you ever read the school newspaper last year?”

  “No offense to the two of you,” I say this gently because Rob was editor-in-chief and Chloe was a staff writer, “but I only read the articles that talked about me or the team.”

  “Well, you should have read this one, Callie. Every high school newspaper in Central Florida ran this article.” He hands me his phone and next to Ryan’s picture are his words. My hand begins to shake as I read Ryan’s opening lines:

  Parents often tell their children, “I wish you could learn from my mistakes,” yet we, as teenagers, quickly dismiss their admonitions. After all, we are young and free, and we have our whole lives in front of us. We have time to make mistakes, and we often take great pleasure in making them. It’s a rite of passage, and we dismiss the words of any well-meaning adult.

  So if you won’t listen to adults, then maybe you’ll listen to me. I am seventeen and a junior at Spruce Creek, and due to a recent drinking-and-driving accident, I had to say goodbye to three of my closest friends—all of whom played on our school’s basketball teams. The fourth friend, my girlfriend, did not die. Four weeks after the accident, Missy still remains in a coma, hanging on to life with the assistance of modern technology. It’s not easy to watch someone you love look so alive but remain trapped in an immobile body.

  The truth is, I should have died with them. I should have been in that car. The only reason why I am alive today is because I got grounded that night…

  With shaking hands and a pounding heart, I pass the phone back to Rob. “He has a girlfriend, but she’s...” I cannot eve
n say the word because it’s unthinkable to imagine. The news squeezes my chest, and my voice waivers. “How could I be such a jerk to him?” I wipe a tear from my cheek and shake my head. “Oh, God,” I remember my words, “I can’t believe how I acted toward him right now.”

  “Callie, you need to call him,” Chloe insists.

  “I don’t have his number,” I say weakly, “but Courtney might.”

  Rob is already on his phone. “Courtney won’t answer her cell or her home phone.”

  I get up and bolt toward Courtney’s house. I pound on the front door, round the house and find the side door, and then fist her bedroom window countless times. No one answers. I try her numbers again and again on my cell, desperate for a way to reach Ryan.

  As I cross the lawn, Rob rushes toward me, keys in hand. “Hop in the Jeep, Cal. I’ll drive you around. Maybe he went somewhere close by.”

  We scour the parking lots of local restaurants, coffee shops, and strip malls for a black Porsche.

  “Think, Callie,” Rob begins, “where would he go? Think about what he likes.”

  I snap my fingers, remembering his list from the top of the lighthouse. “I know.” Minutes later, we find Ryan’s car in the parking lot of the local bookstore. I turn to Rob. “Okay, wish me luck.”

  “Just give him the truth: It’s much better than luck.”

  I stroll down the center aisle, peering down each row, wishing I knew what to say to him. No words come to mind. All I can imagine is holding him tightly and not in a way that I have ever envisioned in the past. Yet as I spot him in the back corner of the store, I can barely muster the strength to walk up to him.

  “Hi,” I attempt.

  His eyes never leave the page. “What do you want—to yell at me again?”

  “No, to apologize.”

  “Well, it’s too late.”

  I stand there, knowing that Chloe could talk her way out of this. I wish I had her words right now, but I offer the only words I have: the truth. I take another step toward him. “I thought I knew about Missy, but I really didn’t. I saw you at Publix yesterday, buying flowers, and then after talking to the florist, I came to the wrong conclusion. I never knew about the accident until now.” I take another small step toward him. “Because I just read the article you wrote. My friend was the editor of our school paper, and when I was talking about you earlier, he remembered your article and showed it to me.”

  His eyes lift from the page.

  I step toward him, my eyes watering and my lips slightly parted. He’s a wounded bird, and I want to scoop him up and take care of him until the hurts go away.

  He closes the book and rests it on the table next to the chair. “Don’t look at me that way.”

  “What way?”

  “Like you feel sorry for me.”

  “But I do feel sorry for you, and I feel horrible about the way I treated you. I just wish you would have told me…”

  “Don’t you understand? I didn’t want to tell you about Missy and the accident because I wanted you to get to know me. To like me for who I am and not just feel sorry for me for what I’ve gone through.” He pauses. “I even told Ian and the guys not to tell you.”

  I nod, all of it making sense now. “Then you understand how I could have come to the wrong conclusion, right?”

  “Yes, I can understand that. What I can’t understand is your insatiable desire to hook up with other guys every time I turn around.”

  “But…” The word falls and hits the ground, traveling a trajectory of defeat.

  “Yep,” he glares back at me, “not much you can say to that, can you?” He brushes past me and bolts down the center aisle.

  “Ryan, wait.” I follow him, tears welling in the corners of my eyes as he leaves the store and heads into the parking lot. It’s the night at the boardwalk all over again, yet I do not allow him to get too far from me this time. “Ryan, please, stop,” I beg. “I need talk to you.”

  He turns. “What?”

  “Listen, I’m not some floozy,” my voice cracks, “okay?”

  “Right, Callie, because in the week that I have known you, you have kissed two other guys, and those are just the ones you told me about.”

  I shake my head, “It’s not—”

  “Going to work out. I know,” he pauses, anger rising, “and even if you hadn’t been kissing other guys all the time, you’d still be leaving in a week.” He opens the door of his car. “Goodbye, Callie, and have a nice life in Tennessee.”

  “Ryan, I…” My mouth pops open to tell him the “good” news about next year, but he slips into his car and leaves me in the parking lot. My face drops into my hands, tears spilling at my inability to change Ryan’s mind. Rob comes over and guides me back to the Jeep. I climb in and stare out the passenger-side window, and he never utters a word. He lets silence be my friend as we drive back up Riverside Drive. We pass by the guard house, and as we slow toward his house, my eyes fixate on the shiny black Porsche in Courtney’s driveway. My insides twist at the sight of his car. Rob parks in the garage and cuts the engine, and I exit the Jeep, rushing past the party and into the woods which snakes through their neighborhood.

  I enter the Preston’s house, bullet up the stairs, and gather my belongings around Chloe’s room and bathroom. I keep swiping the tears from my eyes as I shove clothes into my duffle bag. As I descend the stairs, Mr. Preston stops me. “You heading home?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, before you go, let me give you a key to the house.” He motions for me to follow him into his office at the other end of the house. The room showcases posters from book signings around the country. He opens a desk drawer, but before he hands me a key, he receives a phone call. He sits down at the desk and gestures for me to take the chair across from him. From this side of the conversation, I assume that he is talking with his editor, possibly an agent. I try not to listen, so I play around with my phone. For some reason, I pull up Ryan’s article, needing to see how it ends:

  …My parents saved my life. Someday, when I have children, I will tell them how close I came to death. I will say to them: “I wish you could learn from my mistakes.” Yet as I look at my parents and how they live their lives, I realize I have learned more from their actions than their words. It is our actions that cause change in the world around us. From this day forward, I will never drink again. It is a small thing to give up, but it’s all I can do, and maybe my actions will save someone’s life.

  “Sorry for making you wait.” Mr. Preston hands me a key and then directs me toward the alarm system by the garage. “We change the code often, but for right now, I’ll make it Chloe’s birthday. That’ll be easy for you to remember.”

  I nod. “Thank you.” I pause. “And thank you for letting me live here next year.”

  “You’re welcome, Callie, but you really need to thank your mom.”

  “I will,” I say as my hand reaches for the door knob, “when I get home.”

  I slip out the door and escape without a lengthy lecture from Mr. Preston. After all, the guy lectures people for a living—in books and in large convention centers. I rush through the humid garage and over to my car. I open the trunk and toss in my duffle bag, and then I lay the white dress across the backseat. As I step back, a deep voice catches me: “I didn’t know if you’d still be here.”

  “Me?” I question as I turn around. “W-w-what are you still doing here?”

  He shrugs. “I was playing H-O-R-S-E with your friends, showing them a thing or two.” He pantomimes a shot. “And then I jumped in the pool.”

  I notice his glistening skin as he stands, shirtless, a few feet in front of me. His tan torso with sliced-up abs makes me even more regretful over my inability to change his mind earlier. I have no idea why he is here and what he wants to say, but I just decide to join him in idle conversation like two mere acquaintances chit-chatting about the weather. “You win?”

  “Yup.” He steps closer. �
�Listen, I don’t have much time.” He puts his hands on his hips. “I have to get Ian back for work tonight, but I thought we could exchange numbers.”

  Rather than ask any questions, I nod and offer him my digits. Then he holds up his phone, says “smile,” but I don’t smile. I’m confused and trying to take the enormous leap from “have a nice life” to “smile.” I glue a few pieces together. “Did Rob talk to you or something?”

  “Yeah.” He nods. “And so did your date from last night.”

  “Oh, so you know about…”

  He steps forward with a grin and pinches my cheek like grandma does. “The kiss.” He gestures toward Chloe’s house. “And about your new address.”

  “Oh,” I manage, hope lifting the corners of my mouth into a smile.

  He takes a few steps backward and then points at me. “I’ll call you.”

  “Okay,” I say meekly as he meanders back into the woods. There is no greater anxiety trigger than those three little words. My phone and I will be inseparable until his cell successfully connects with mine. I open the car door, slip into the stifling heat, and drop my cell on the passenger seat. It rings immediately, and I notice the area code and take a deep breath. “Hello?”

  “Hey, I forgot to give you something.”

  “What?”

  “Just come here…and hurry it up, girl. Ian keeps texting me.”

  I jog into the woods as the sun delivers blinding rays through the lush canopy of trees. I discover Ryan in the middle of the neighborhood forest, striding toward me. Feet, then inches, separate us. My eyes connect with his tender emerald ones and then close instinctively as his hands cup the back of my neck. His eager mouth crushes against my lips. His tongue parts my lips, and gently, he finds the tip of my tongue. Playfully at first, then deepening into a steady rhythm. I drop my phone on the forest floor and touch his face, feeling the soft stubble on his jawline before my fingers slide into his hair, still damp, then over his sculptured shoulders, and across his bare skin, trickling slowly down his angular frame and toward his tapering waist. His hands slide under my T-shirt and across my back. He draws me nearer to him, and I moan softly. My hands, my lips, my tongue disconnect from my brain and work independently, each entity of my body extracting us much pleasure from this moment as possible. Our first kiss, deep and rhythmic, conveys an indescribable passion, trumping any mind-kiss I ever fathomed.

  “Dude,” Ian interrupts from behind us. “I’m going to be so late for work!”

  I step back, but Ryan draws me in for one final kiss on my lips, his hands cupping my face. Then he murmurs against my lips. “You have my number, so call me.”

  “I will.” I pick up the phone off the forest floor and aim it at him. “Smile,” I say, and he puts his hands on his hips. With the light breaking through the trees, glinting across his chest, I relish the good fortune of having my phone on the Zoe setting, assuring me a three-second photo shoot of pure gorgeousness.

  As I walk back to my car, I realize that I don’t have to wait until he calls, but just the appropriate amount of time before I call him. I despise these games and the ridiculous rules set by some dating expert. But did he wait? Does Ryan play by any rules? I have to wonder if knowing your life should have ended offers you a different perspective.

  *****