by Portia Moore
I think maybe, just maybe, this is the universe’s way of making up for my past. I hear Dena’s voice in my ear to just enjoy all of this and not overthink it. It won’t last forever, so why not soak it in?
“Let me at least clean up around the house, or…or run errands for you or something,” I say again.
“I have people for that already. Stay. Relax and enjoy yourself, little one.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t like that; it makes me feel so much younger than you.”
“You are,” he laughs. “A good deal younger. But I don’t care. It’s your innocence that I find so attractive, Rain. You’re not jaded and angry like so many women my age. You still believe that some people want to do good. And I want to do that for you.”
“Alright,” I finally relent. “Seven-thirty it is.”
Chapter 14
Rain
Three years earlier
Zach usually doesn’t like me going over to his place. He doesn’t say why, exactly, but I know it has something to do with his family. It’s always frustrated me how close-mouthed he is about his family when he knows so much about mine. But after almost three years of friendship, I’ve chalked it up to just another one of his traits—disliking talking about things that are too personal. He says it doesn’t help to dwell on it or talk about it.
For a moment, that afternoon at his birthday party, I thought things might change between us. I saw a glimpse that he might have the same feelings—I felt it. For a second, I thought he was going to kiss me. But he didn’t, and he hasn’t.
Nothing has changed.
Well, some things have changed. I turned sixteen two days ago. I’ve gotten taller, and while I’m still skinny, I’ve gotten new curves that I both like and am a little scared of. It’s a little scary the reaction I’ve gotten from boys who never used to even notice me. Almost every boy in the school looks at me when I walk past now—except Zach.
He’s continued his fixation on that old car he bought two years ago. Zach made himself a workout space in the garage that he says he occupies more than his bedroom. “I’d sleep in there if I didn’t think my mom would mind,” he told me once, and I believe him. The few times I have gone over to his place, that’s where I’ve found him. Little by little, he’s made it into his own sanctuary—his car parked in the center, surrounded by tools, dumbbells, a weight bench in one corner, and a mini-fridge in the other. I’m sure some of it is stolen and some of it is paid for, but I’ve stopped worrying over the years about where Zach gets things, or whether or not he’ll get caught.
After all, for years he’s been sneaking food and money to me. If my mom ever wonders where the extra food comes from, she doesn’t ask. I plan to get a job soon, and then I’ll be able to help even more.
Another thing that hasn’t changed is how much girls like Zach—especially once he started working out. I noticed the changes in how he looked before anyone, but I kept my mouth shut. Our mutual attraction has become a non-talking point ever since his birthday party. If we seem like we’re getting too close, if there’s even the slightest bit of tension between us, he pulls back and shuts down. And I don’t like it when Zach shuts me out, so I keep those feelings to myself and look at him when he isn’t paying attention.
Because my god, he’s gotten sexy. He wears his shaggy blond hair a little longer these days, wife beaters and jeans just tight enough to show off the muscles in his thighs and butt. More and more often I daydream about sneaking over to his house after school and catching him in the garage, seeing the muscles in his arms flex as he knocks a bolt off of the car, smelling the engine grease and oil on him and seeing him sweaty and hard at work.
Usually in these daydreams, he’s also working on the car shirtless.
But today, as I hurry down the street towards his house, I’m not thinking about catching him doing any of those things, or about what he would look like shirtless and sweaty. I’m going there because when my world feels like it’s falling apart, he is the one person who always seems to be able to put it back together. And I need him more than anything today.
As expected, he’s in the garage when I get there. I pause in front of it, twisting my hands nervously as I call out his name. “Zach?”
He looks up, startled, dropping the wrench that he’s holding. His wide gorgeous smile disappears when he looks at me. I’m a mess. I’ve been crying for an hour at least, and I know the mascara I wore to school today is streaked on my face. I hate how I look when I cry—red-faced like a tomato and squinty-eyed, not prettily distressed like girls in movies.
“Rain, what’s wrong?” he asks gently, looking concerned as he takes a step towards me, the dropped wrench forgotten. “What happened?”
I shake my head, the tears bubbling up again, and he gently takes my elbow and leads me towards the weight bench. I sit down, trying to get my emotions under control, and he sits next to me.
“It’s my parents,” I manage between sniffling back the tears. “It’s just getting worse. They argue all of the time now. I came home to them arguing today. My mom called in sick to work—she’s had the flu—and my dad was freaking out about bills. And of course, he doesn’t contribute shit and drinks half of what she makes. Well, she finally went at him, telling him that if he was so worried then he should dry up and get a job. And the drinking…he’s been drinking more than ever. It’s been six years since he had a job, Zach. One that lasted more than a couple weeks, anyway. Six. My mom can’t keep doing this—I don’t know why she doesn’t just get a divorce!”
Zach is quiet for a moment. Finally, he shrugs. “Maybe she thinks her marriage vows mean she’s supposed to stick it out. Better and worse and all of that.”
I stare at him through my tears for a moment. I’ve never thought about what Zach thinks about marriage and commitment, and if he believes in it at all. If he believes you stay no matter what. If he wants any of that.
Since Brigit broke up with him on his birthday and he almost kissed me, he hasn’t had another serious girlfriend. I’ve seen him flirting with and dating plenty of girls, and he’s probably fooled around with them, but he hasn’t claimed anyone.
He looks out into the distance, his hands between his knees. “I think the marriage vows go both ways,” he says finally. “Your dad promised to love and cherish and honor your mom, or whatever version of that they did. And he’s not doing any of that by being drunk as fuck and leaving her to support the family.” He glances at me. “I know you’re defensive of him, Rain, but…”
“I’m not,” I say flatly. “Not anymore. I love him, but he’s not being a dad. He’s not doing any of the things he’s supposed to do. Not for my mom, not for us.” Tears stream down my face. “This isn’t fair. It’s not right, Erin and me and my mom don’t deserve any of this…”
“Rain,” Zach whispers, and he reaches out suddenly, pulling me into his arms. It startles me because he’s never hugged me like this. We’ve had friendly hugs, quick ones, but this time he pulls me close to him, wrapping his arms around me as he presses his mouth to the side of my head. He smells like sweat and grease and something piney. It’s masculine, good, and I sigh as he wraps his arms more tightly around me. He’s broad and warm and strong, and for the first time in a long time, I feel safe, hidden away from the things that want to hurt me.
He promised he’d take care of me, and at this moment, in the circle of his arms, I believe that he can more than ever. He is the only thing that matters most in my life.
I’ve often wondered if what I feel for him is love. I’ve never felt it before, not romantic love, so how would I know? But right now, I know that I love him. I know that adults would tell me that it isn’t real, that I’m too young to know, but as I cling to him, I’m certain of it. I love him, and I want him.
I pull back a tiny bit and look up into his blue eyes, my own still glassy with tears. I can feel his heart pounding in his chest as he looks down at me, and I think that he’ll pull back, retreat, shut down. He alwa
ys does. But he seems frozen, his eyes fixed on mine, and I can’t stop myself this time. I’ve held back my feelings from him for what seems like an eternity, always being careful not to go too far, but my emotions are running high, and I can’t tear myself away. I have to have this.
I lean forward, my heart pounding so hard that it almost hurts, and bring my lips to his.
It’s a clumsy kiss at first. I have no idea what I’m doing, and it happens hard, quick, and I feel him jerk with surprise. I think he’s going to stop me, but I don’t want it to be over yet—not yet. I reach up to touch his face, the stubble on his cheek rough under my palm, and I press my hand against his jaw, the tips of my fingers in his hair as I move my lips experimentally against his, my tongue flicking out to touch the edge of his lower lip.
He gasps.
That simple sound sends a flood of warmth through me, my skin prickling, and then I’m momentarily breathless as his hands go into my hair, his arm tightening around my waist as his tongue traces the edge of my lip too, and brushes against mine for a moment.
This is my first kiss.
This is what I’ve always dreamed of, what I always wanted.
And it’s with Zach.
I was just miserable, terribly miserable. How is it possible that blood is flooding through me now, that I feel as if I might float off of the bench if his arms weren’t anchoring me here? I feel his forehead press against mine, feel his harsh, quick breathing…and then I feel it. Him pulling away, slightly pushing me away.
“Zach,” I whisper, still hardly able to breathe. “Zach, I want…”
“I know what you want,” he says hoarsely. “I want it too. God, I can’t even stand up right now, Rain. But we can’t.”
My face falls. I can’t help it. For a moment, I was on cloud nine, everything I ever wanted coalescing into one perfect kiss. I thought it meant something had changed between us. That he finally was going to let it change.
I was wrong.
I can’t help the tears that well up again and start to slide down my cheeks. I look away quickly, and I hear Zach’s sigh.
“Rain,” he says gently. “Don’t you remember what I told you before? Why we can’t do this?”
“Remind me,” I say harshly, choking through my tears. I don’t want to fight about this again. I thought I was over it—or if not over it, that I had at least accepted it. But one kiss, one perfect kiss, and I’m a mess all over again.
“Do you really want to risk our friendship over this?” He reaches for my hand, but I tug it away. I turn to look at him and I see that his expression is sincere, that he really doesn’t want to hurt me. That he’s trying. I know that. I’ve always known that. I soften a little, but the ache in my chest doesn’t subside.
“It wouldn’t matter,” I tell him, my voice shaky. “We’d stay friends, no matter what.”
He runs one hand through his hair, shaking his head. “You can’t know that, Rain. Just look at our parents. They were probably friends once. And look at how they are now. Look at your mom and dad, and mine!” He lets out a long sigh. “If we did this…somewhere along the way we’d do something to hurt each other, or I’d do something to hurt you, and inevitably we’d fight and break up, and then we’d hate each other. Our friendship is too important for me to lose it with you.”
“It wouldn’t be that way.”
“It could…it probably would!” he says, his voice strained. He runs the back of his hand across his forehead.
“I don’t want to risk losing you. And I can’t protect you if I lose you like that.”
What is my defense against this? I don’t know how I can make him see. My head feels foggy and jumbled. I feel sick thinking about what we could be if he would just let it happen. If he trusted me, trusted us enough to pursue it.
“Look, meet me out at our spot tonight,” Zach says, clearly trying to cheer me up. “I’ll sneak some beer and we can just talk and hang out and get drunk together. Okay?”
My heart still feels like it’s sinking into my toes, but I nod. I still want to see him, to spend time with him, however that happens.
“Alright,” I say quietly, kicking my feet against the concrete of the garage floor. “I’ll see you tonight.”
Chapter 15
Rain
Present day
When Vincent leaves, I’m at a loss as to what to do, rattling around in the huge penthouse apartment. It feels weird lounging in a silk robe, so I find a pair of his basketball shorts and an old sports team t-shirt and throw them on. It feels intimate to wear them but more comfortable than last night’s dress.
I go from room to room, clearing the dining room table of the cold breakfast—I can’t help it, regardless of his instructions not to clean. He said the staff has the day off, so what am I supposed to do, leave it there for him? I go into the kitchen to put the dishes in the sink. Everything is so beautiful. I marvel at the brushed-nickel fixtures, the marble countertops, the huge glass-topped stove, the massive island. It’s a dream kitchen, and I try to imagine what my mother would say, seeing a place like this. She’d probably faint. I think of her in the small, laminated-floor kitchen in the house I’ve grown up in, with the faux granite counters that are peeling at the edges, the ancient refrigerator.
I wander through the apartment, finding the entertainment room with a TV that takes up most of the wall it’s on, bookshelves filled with movies and games, each kind of console. I wonder if he ever really uses any of it, or if it’s just there for show. I sit down on the couch, not believing he’s left me in his home with all of these things.
He did meet me while I was shoplifting, after all.
Then I remember how much he knows about me and the resources he talks about having. He probably has girls over all the time, and the thought makes my chest tighten. Wait, am I jealous?
I can’t let myself think about it.
I know what this is. A gorgeous rich guy who is intrigued by me, and as soon as he’s figured out I’m nothing special, he’ll drop me like a bad habit. I’m nothing like the models, actresses, and daughters of millionaires that have probably made their way through his bed. All sleek, sophisticated, and well-dressed, with expensive hair and perfect makeup and surgically-sculpted bodies.
I see a set of French doors at one end of the penthouse that lead out to the balcony. Despite the sweltering heat, I’m almost desperate for some fresh air. I push them open and walk out, sweat popping out on my forehead almost immediately. The balcony overlooks a huge section of the city, and I hang out there for a few minutes, appreciating the view. When I turn around, I see a set of iron steps leading up and realize that Vincent must have a rooftop deck.
Of course, he does. I climb the stairs, careful not to slip, and stare in awe when I reach the top. The whole roof is clearly his. There is a huge pool in the center, a stone fireplace at one end surrounded by furniture, a stone firepit at the other with more seating. The landscaping is astonishingly beautiful, with flowers of every color you could imagine.
There are several luxuriously padded lounge chairs with umbrellas at the pool’s side, and along a far wall, a cubby with towels beneath an overhang. I have a sudden picture of myself lounging out here on a summer’s day, a cute bikini clinging to my breasts and hips, Vincent in expensive black swim trunks, bringing me a frosted margarita. It is the most outlandish thing I’ve ever imagined, and I choke back laughter as I strip off the shorts and t-shirt and toss them on the lounge chair.
I run across the concrete to the pool, going down the steps two at a time and then into the water.
It feels amazing as the cool water washes over my body. I feel sensual and rebellious, like a Greek goddess bathing in a forest pool. I dive under the water, letting my hair billow out around me like a cloud as I sink to the bottom, and then swim back up to the top. I’ve never in my life imagined I’d ever be somewhere like I am right now, let alone have it all to myself. It is incredible. No matter what happens, I will never ever forget it. Not f
or a second. I am a long way away from where I’ve come from.
I swim for a long time, diving under the water, floating across the surface of it, enjoying the freedom of having absolute peace and quiet. When my fingers start to wrinkle, I climb out and go to one of the lounge chairs, lying on my stomach with one of the umbrellas shading me.
I’m not sure when I fell asleep, but I did. The combination of the night before, the stress of the morning, and the warmth of the sun all combined to make my eyes heavy and tired, and before I know it, the sound of a woman clearing her throat.
“Ahem, um, are you Ms. Carlisle?”
I open my eyes and shade them with my hand, to see a tall woman, who looks to be in her late forties, dressed in a smart grey linen skirt suit, her ash-blonde hair in a perfect chignon at the back of her head. Shit!
What if this is Vincent’s wife?!
“Um, yes,” I say hurriedly, choking on my words. “I…I am, I’m Rain, Rain Carlisle. Vincent’s…”
“Girl. Friend girl?” She looks at me coolly, and I’m suddenly, horribly, entirely aware of just what I must look like to her, and of how many other women must have been in this same position. Well…maybe not the same. I’m pretty sure she’s never found any of them asleep and naked on Vincent’s rooftop deck.
I’m an idiot! I’m just around to toy with until he’s bored. And he’ll get bored, you know he will…
“Ms. Carlisle?” The woman looks more than a little irritated, but she’s careful to keep it out of her tone.
“The hair and makeup artist is here,” she says. “Downstairs, in the master bathroom. I’ve brought your wardrobe selections, as well.”
Hair. Makeup. Wardrobe. It’s like I’ve gone to sleep and woken up a celebrity. All of this for me. A small-town girl from an even smaller little home in Indiana. I think of Vincent’s eager face this morning, so sincere, clasping my hand and telling me how much he wanted me, how tired he was of the usual girls he met, how different I was. What is the worst that could happen if I just choose to believe him?
