by Emma Scott
I must’ve been losing it, since all of my own pain bubbled to the surface. Pain I’d tried so hard to keep buried put a red haze over my eyes. I hardly understood the words that were pouring out of my mouth. Or who I was talking to anymore.
“You can’t do that to your kid,” I raged. “You fucking can’t. You can’t just leave. You can’t go and leave behind giant fucking black holes in someone’s life that suck the light out of everything.”
“Miller?”
Violet’s hand on my arm gave me a squeeze, grounding me back to reality. I blinked the red haze away, my breath coming hard.
Jesus, what was that?
“How dare you come in here and speak to us like that,” Mrs. McNamara said in a seething tone.
“It’s about fucking time someone did. Violet won’t. She doesn’t say anything because she does what she always does. Tries to make things okay. She puts on a smile and keeps going. Working her ass off to stay ahead of whatever fucked up shit you’re up to.” My throat started to close, and I fought to keep control. “Because of you, she doesn’t believe in love. Congratulations. Job well done.”
Mr. McNamara raised his head. “That’s enough, now, Miller…”
“Yeah, it is,” I said, suddenly tired. Adrenaline had run its course and now my watch alarm began to beep. The outburst and turmoil had drained me. I turned and looked to Violet, tears streaming. My own vision blurred. “It’s enough, and it’s too late.”
I walked out of the kitchen. Mrs. McNamara started to shout, but her husband hissed at her to be quiet. Violet’s soft footsteps padded after me upstairs.
In her room, I packed up my guitar in its case and started back out the door. “Miller, wait,” she said tearfully. “Where are you going?”
“Leaving. Out the front door.”
“You can’t just go. Not now.”
I stopped at her bedroom door. “I’m sorry I kissed you, Violet. It won’t happen again,” I said and then I left. Left without one more word or thought for the anguish on the face I loved so much, wondering if it’d been the same for my dad.
Just like tearing off a Band-Aid.
Chapter Eleven
Homecoming, senior year: a day of epic fails and poor choices.
Against all better judgement, I went to the football game with Shiloh and watched the Central High Capitals defeat the Soquel Saints 42-16. A gimme game against a lower division designed to make our guys look good. And River, of course, played hero and passed for four touchdowns.
The parade came after. River, still in his game uniform, sat beside Violet above the back seat of a convertible. She was stunning in black velvet, a sparkling tiara on her head and a sash across her dress. She and River smiled and waved at the crowd. They smiled at each other. She looked happy. Radiant, even.
I felt Shiloh’s eyes on me. “Why do you do this to yourself?”
“Sorry?”
“Watch her be with someone else.”
It should’ve shocked me that Shiloh could read me like that, but then she’d always had an instinct about people and a zero-bullshit policy. I admired that about her, probably because I wallowed in my own bullshit on the regular. I’d walked out of Violet’s room the other night pretending I’d succeeded in letting her go. What a fucking crock. All it took was one sense memory of her lips on mine, our tongues exploring and our hands touching in ways that defied friendship, and I was hopelessly sucked back into miserable want for her.
“I need proof that she’s okay with him. That he’ll take care of her, or I’ll sic Ronan on him.”
Shiloh shrugged. “River’s unproblematic. At least there’s that.”
Fuck River, I thought with stupid, possessive pride, knowing that I’d been Violet’s first kiss.
And she was mine. Because there could be no one else.
“Speaking of River, did Vi mention that she and I kissed?”
Shiloh’s head swiveled to me, braids cascading down her billowy shirt. She tried to corral her shock, but it was too late.
Pain slugged me in the chest. I faced forward. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“I haven’t seen her much lately. But no, she didn’t say a word.” She nudged my arm. “I’m sorry. I always knew something was going on there.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just confirms everything she’s been telling me for years.”
That our kiss hadn’t been worth a mention to her best girlfriend. It wasn’t still lingering on her lips like it was on mine. It hadn’t completely shocked and upheaved her life the way it had mine, throwing the depth of my love for her—and my fears with it—in my face. I’d easily faded from her senses; yet, I could still taste her.
“Is that why you asked Amber to the dance?” Shiloh asked. “To get over her for real?”
To protect myself…
“I have to try. Maybe something could happen with Amber. Maybe if I gave her a chance, I could move on and be the friend Violet wants me to be.”
“Uh huh. Amber is a friend of mine.” Shiloh pierced me with her strong, dark-eyed gaze. “A real flesh-and-blood human. Not a blowup doll to take your frustrations out on.”
“Jesus, I know that.”
She released me from her stare. “I know. You’re a good guy, too.”
“Try telling that to Vi.”
“She already knows. That’s why she’s fighting so hard. In her mind, things are either falling apart or they’re standing still. Never becoming something beautiful.” She gave me a sad smile. “She’s trying to hold the two of you still, so you don’t fall apart.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Chet bellowed from the living room. Drunk. Again. He usually tossed back a few beers, but lately, he’d started the evening’s festivities with rot gut whiskey first.
I stiffened as Mom adjusted my tie in the living room.
“I told you. Miller has a big dance at school.” She met my eyes briefly, smiling tiredly. Mom had been pretty before Dad left. Now, it seemed the life was being sucked right out of her. “You look very handsome.”
“Thanks. It’s just a dumb dance. Don’t know why I’m bothering.”
“Are your friends going? The two boys?”
“No. Not tonight.”
The bastards. Ronan wouldn’t be caught dead, and Lord Parish said he had “other plans.”
I went back to my room to grab my wallet and phone and to take one last look in the mirror. I’d put on my best—faded—black jeans, a white button down, tie, and an old gray blazer Mom had found at Goodwill.
Not bad. I was sure River would be dressed in an immaculate rented tux, and Violet would be breathtaking on his arm…
I shoved the thoughts away and headed back out.
“Where’s your date?” Chet wondered with a belch. He chuckled. “She coming to pick you up?”
He loved to point out I didn’t have a car. Mom still drove the station wagon we’d lived in, but it’d be a cold day in hell before I drove that to school. I barely had money for the dance tickets, and when our lights were shut off a week ago, I’d had to work extra shifts to earn the cash to turn them back on, never mind taking Amber to dinner.
“I’m meeting her there.” I kissed Mom on the cheek. “Bye.”
“Have fun. Don’t stay out too late.”
Chet snorted. “Late? He doesn’t come home most nights at all. Not until the early morning.”
I stopped at the door.
“Didn’t know I knew that, eh? Yep, comes in before dawn, stinking of beer and smoke. How about that?”
I gripped the doorknob tight. “How about you mind your own fucking business?”
He sat up and leveled a finger at me. “Watch your mouth, son. You’d better just watch it.”
Or what? You’ll actually get off the couch?
I didn’t say it, only because I didn’t want to leave Mom with him in a rage. I looked to her, begging her silently to get rid of this asshole before things got worse. She only gave me a final, tired smile, then
turned and quietly went back to her room.
I left, letting the screen door bang, and bumped up Get rid of Chet fucking Hyland on my mental to-do list. Right after becoming a global musical superstar. Ha, what a joke. As I’d suspected, the video Violet had uploaded of me on YouTube had only a few views and none of them from salivating record execs.
My bitterness flooded me. By the time I got to the school, my mood was thoroughly foul. The Homecoming theme was Hollywood. Standing lights had been set up on the walk leading to the gym, complete with a red carpet. Faculty and photographers—mostly parent volunteers—lined the walk, calling out to attendees like paparazzi.
Amber was waiting for me near the red carpet walk. She looked pretty in a pink bohemian-looking dress, loose and flowing around her ankles. Her long blond hair flowed over her shoulders, and she smiled brightly at me.
“Hi.”
“Hey,” I said, mustering a smile in return.
She nodded at the small cluster of daisies in my hand I’d picked on the way over. “Are those for me?”
“Oh, yeah,” I said, my face heating with embarrassment. “I didn’t get you a corsage, but I saw these. Thought you might like them.”
“They’re perfect.” She laced a few in her hair and tucked the largest behind her ear. She was right—they suited her perfectly.
“You look…very nice,” I said.
“So do you. Shall we?”
That was something Violet liked to say. I forced a thin smile on my face and put Amber’s hand in the crook of my elbow.
I endured the “paparazzi” red carpet walk and stepped inside a dark gym illuminated with follow spotlights that beamed across the ceiling. A papier-mâché Hollywood sign had been erected on one side, and long silver steamers and black and white balloons were everywhere. A DJ spun the latest pop and alternative songs over a crowd of dancing students. Two minutes in, and I already wanted to leave.
“You want something to drink?” I shouted in Amber’s ear.
“Sure. I see some friends. Meet me there?”
She pointed. I nodded and left to get us some punch, scanning the crowd for Violet without conscious thought. Shiloh’s warning rang in my ears over the base thundering in the gym. She was right. I had to be fair to Amber and not string her along.
At the punch table, Ms. Sanders, my English teacher, guarded the bowl of red liquid like a hawk. She smiled when she saw me.
“Miller! So nice to see you here.”
“Thanks. Two please.”
“Your final essay on The Great Gatsby was pretty brilliant,” she said, ladling two cups for me. “I’ll return them on Monday, but spoiler alert: you received an A.”
“Cool.” I took the cups. “And thanks for these.”
“Miller, wait.” She leaned over the table with both hands. “Your essay was beautiful, poetic, even. But there were…elements to it that frankly made me concerned.” She smiled gently. “Is everything okay at home? I mean…now isn’t the time or place—”
“No, it’s not,” I said and then softened my tone. “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”
Translation: things are shit, there’s nothing you can do about it, but it’s nice that you care.
Ms. Sanders read me loud and clear. “Okay. But my door is always open if you need to talk.”
“Thanks.”
“And hey, word is getting around that you’re quite the musician. Guitar, right?”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“Some kids were passing around a video of you playing at a party. Mr. Hodges has started an instrumental club. Tuesdays and Thursdays.” Ms. Sanders smiled encouragingly. “Could be something right up your alley.”
I pressed my lips together. “I have to work every Tuesday and Thursday. I have to work every day after school and all day Saturday.”
Ms. Sanders’ shoulders slumped. “I wish that wasn’t the case. Such a failure of our system that lets talented kids like you fall through the cracks so easily.”
“I’ll be okay. Kids like me have to get shit done on our own.” I hefted the cups. “Thanks for the punch, Ms. S.”
She smiled sadly. “Take care, Miller.”
No sooner had I left the table than three girls I vaguely recognized as new friends of Violet’s accosted me.
“Miller, right?” said one. “I’m Julia. This is Caitlin and Evelyn.”
I took a step back, mindful I was holding two cups of red punch while wearing a white shirt. “Can I help you?”
“Relax! We just wanted to say that your performance at Chance’s party was ah-mazing,” Caitlin said.
“Insanely good,” Julia said. “You’re very talented.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Are you here with someone?” Evelyn asked, glancing at my cups with shrewd, calculating eyes under fake lashes. She was the prettiest of the three.
“Amber Blake. I should get back.”
Julia pouted. “I knew it. Too late.”
“Too late for what?” But my words were drowned by the DJ dropping a beat and the gym exploding with sound.
“You should have been hired to play this thing,” Evelyn shouted in my ear, moving in close. “You would have slayed it. Violet is always telling us how talented you are.”
My chest tightened at her name. “Thanks. I should go.”
“Hold on. Care to spice those up?” She produced two mini bottles of vodka.
I was about to say no but then Julia said, “Oh, I see Violet! God, she looks so freaking pretty.”
I gritted my teeth and forced myself not to follow Julia’s line of vision. Tradition at Central was that the King and Queen took their spotlight dance together, alone. The entire school would circle around River and Violet to watch them dance like a married couple at their wedding.
I can’t. I fucking can’t.
Evelyn was watching me with a knowing look.
“Sure, hit me,” I said.
She poured one bottle to each cup, leaned in, and planted a lingering kiss on my cheek. “Have a nice night, Miller.”
The girls melted into the crowd of writhing bodies, likely to join Violet and River. I downed one cup of punch, the sickly sweetness hitting my tongue first followed by the bite of vodka in the back of my throat. It warmed me from the inside out, and without thinking about the sugar intake or my numbers, I downed the second one.
The night mellowed and smoothed out. Turned liquid and murky in my vision. Somehow, I made it back to Amber.
“No drinks?” She laughed and took my hand. “Come on. Let’s dance.”
The DJ played “Dance Monkey,” and Amber bounced along to it, both my hands in hers.
“I don’t dance,” I shouted blearily.
“You’re so cute.”
She twirled herself in my arms but I pulled out of her grasp. I was already having trouble keeping myself upright. The room spun, and I could feel my numbers dropping.
“I gotta stop. Need air.”
Amber moved in close. “Good idea. Let’s go be alone.”
She took my hand and led me out of the gym and into the cool night air. Around a corner and into a deserted hallway, I slumped against the wall. Amber pressed her body to me and kissed me hard, her hands roaming.
“I’ve wanted to do this for weeks,” Amber said between kisses, her voice sounding like it came from miles away. “The way you sang at the party? It was like you were singing right at me. Right into my soul.”
God, I’m such an asshole.
I should have pushed her away and told her nothing could happen between us. But her mouth was insistent and hot. Her kiss nothing like Violet’s, but then, that was the point, wasn’t it? To get over her and move on?
Becoming a global musical superstar felt more realistic.
I struggled to keep my head, but it swam in vodka. I was submerged under the sensations of Amber’s body and hands and tongue, watching images swim by: Violet smiling at River, Chet’s snarl, Ms. Sanders’ pitying look…lights s
hutting off in my life, one by one.
Amber dropped to her knees, her hands on the fly of my jeans.
“Amber, wait.” After what was coming next, there’d be no going back.
She looked up. “What’s wrong?”
Inside the gym, the muffled sound of the MC calling the King and Queen to the floor for their dance, followed by raucous cheers.
Violet in River’s arms, gazing up at him adoringly…
“Nothing.”
My head fell back against the wall as Amber freed me from my jeans. I moaned softly, shut my eyes and let the world spin out from under me.
Chapter Twelve
Dear Diary,
It’s been a long time since I’ve written in here. Years, even. The last entry was the night I told Miller we should kiss. For practice. So that when the real deal came along, we wouldn’t be so unprepared.
But I had my first real kiss and nothing could have prepared me.
Miller sang for me so I could put him on YouTube and make him a star. And God, even before he sang a note, my body was humming. He took off his beanie and ruffled his hair… I’d never seen anything sexier in my life. So sexy because he had no idea the effect he was creating in me. I could hardly take it myself.
Then he began to sing and I could hardly hold the phone still. His voice—rough and low and so masculine—went right through me. My heart and soul, and God even between my legs. I felt it—him—everywhere. Like the best fever.
And then he kissed me.
I was completely unprepared. Not only because it was my first, but I was shocked at how thoroughly he took my breath away. How he smelled and sounded and tasted so good. How perfect it felt. How right. It did everything a first kiss was supposed to do; it swept me off my feet and made me want more.
It made me want him. My body now feels awake. Alive.
Miller told me he was okay with us being friends, but that was a lie. No boy kisses a girl like that unless he cares about her more than she could ever have guessed. I felt everything in Miller from his kiss. How he felt about me; how he’d probably been feeling about me for God knows how long. Maybe he’s loved me for as long as I’ve loved him…which feels like always.
