This Girl: A Novel

by Colleen Hoover

  “YOU WILLINGLY RESIGNED?” Lake asks, dumbfounded. “I thought it was a mutual agreement. They would have let you keep your job, Will. Why the hell did you resign?”

  “Lake, there’s no way I could have continued teaching there. I’d reached my breaking point. I was going to get fired one of two ways if I hadn’t resigned that day.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Because it’s true. They would have fired me the first day Javier returned to school because I would have kicked his ass the moment I laid eyes on him. That, or they would have fired me because one more second in a room with you and I would have jumped you, but in a completely different way.”

  She laughs. “Yeah. The tension was intense. We would have lost control eventually.”

  “Eventually? We lost control that same day,” I say, reminding her of our incident in the laundry room.

  She frowns and closes her eyes, then sighs a deep sigh.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask her.

  She shakes her head. “Nothing. It’s just hard thinking about that night. It really hurt,” she whispers.

  I kiss her lightly on the forehead. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  laundry room

  I SOMEHOW MADE it to the end of the workday without getting suspended, fired, or arrested. I’d say being transferred to Detroit to finish out my student teaching is one of the best outcomes I could have anticipated.

  I pull into the driveway and the boys are helping Lake and Julia with groceries. I haven’t even made it out of the car yet when Caulder meets me at the door, beaming with excitement.

  “Will!” he says, grabbing my hand. “Wait till you see this!”

  I walk across the street with him and grab the rest of the sacks and take them inside. When I set them down, I notice the contents aren’t groceries. It looks like sewing supplies.

  “Guess what we’re going to be for Halloween?” Caulder says.

  “Uh—”

  “Julia’s cancer!” he yells.

  Did I just hear him right?

  Julia walks into the room with her sewing machine and I give her a questioning look.

  “You only live once, right?” She smiles and places the sewing machine on the bar.

  “She’s letting us make the tumors for the lungs,” Kel says. “You want to make one? I’ll let you make the big one.”

  I don’t even know how to respond. “Uh—”

  “Kel,” Lake interrupts. “Will and Caulder can’t help, they’ll be out of town all weekend.”Seeing the excitement on Caulder’s face, there’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here. “Actually, that was before I found out we were making lung cancer,” I say. “I think we’ll have to reschedule our trip.”

  •••

  “WHERE’S YOUR MEASURING tape?” Lake asks Julia.

  “I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t know if I have one, actually.”

  I have measuring tape, so I try to think of a way to get Lake to come with me to get it. I know she’s dying to know what happened today and I owe her a huge apology for acting the way I did toward her last night. She had experienced what was more than likely a horrifying event alone with Javi, and I acted like a jerk the entire way home. I was trying to refrain from yelling at her last night, when I should have been consoling her.

  “Will has one. We can use his,” Lake says. “Will, do you mind getting it?”

  I play dumb. “I have measuring tape?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Yes, it’s in your sewing kit.”

  “I have a sewing kit?”

  “It’s in your laundry room.” She spreads the material out in front of her. “It’s next to the sewing machine on the shelf behind your mother’s patterns. I put them in chronological order according to pattern nu— Never mind,” she says quickly. She shakes her head and stands. “I’ll just show you.”

  Thank you.

  I quickly jump up, maybe a little too eagerly.

  “You put his patterns in chronological order?” Julia asks.

  “I was having a bad day,” Lake says over her shoulder.

  I hold the door for Lake, then close it behind us. She turns around and completely loses her calm demeanor. “What happened? God, I’ve been worried sick all day,” she says.

  “I got a slap on the wrist,” I say as we walk toward my house. “They told me since I was defending another student, they couldn’t really hold it against me.”

  I jog a few steps and open my front door for her, stepping aside to let her in.

  “That’s good. What about your internship?” she asks.

  “Well, it’s a little tricky. The only available ones they had in Ypsilanti were all primary. My major is secondary, so I’ve been placed at a school in Detroit.”

  She looks up at me, her eyes full of concern. “What’s that mean? Are y’all moving?”

  I love the fact that the thought of our moving scares her so bad. I laugh. “No, Lake, we’re not moving. It’s just for eight weeks. I’ll be doing a lot of driving, though. I was actually going to talk to you and your mom about it later. I’m not going to be able to take the boys to school, or pick them up either. I’ll be gone a lot. I know this isn’t a good time to ask for your help—”

  “Stop it. You know we’ll help.” She grabs the tape measure and shuts the box, then walks the kit back to the laundry room. I follow her, but I’m not sure why I feel compelled to. I’m afraid she’s about to head straight back to her house and I still have so much left I need to say to her. I walk into the laundry room behind her and pause in the doorway. She’s staring quietly in front of her, running her fingers across my mother’s patterns. She’s got that distant look in her eyes again. I lean against the doorframe and watch her.

  I still can’t believe I thought she would willingly allow Javi to kiss her, especially after seeing my performance last night. I know her better than that, and she knows she deserves so much better than Javi.

  Hell, she deserves so much better than me.

  She reaches to the wall and flicks off the light, then turns toward me. She comes to a halt when she sees that I’m blocking the doorway. She quietly gasps and looks up at me, her beautiful green eyes full of hope again. She scrolls her eyes over my features, searching my face, waiting for me to either speak or move out of her way. I don’t want to do either. All I want to do is take her in my arms and show her how I feel about her, but I can’t. She stares up at me, slowly dropping her gaze to my mouth. She tugs on her bottom lip with her teeth and nervously darts her eyes to the floor.

  I’ve never wanted to be teeth so bad in my entire life.

  I take a deep breath and prepare to get out what I need to say, despite knowing I shouldn’t say it. I just need her to know why I did what I did last night, and why I acted the way I acted. I fold my arms across my chest and prop my foot against the doorway, looking down at it. Avoiding eye contact with her is probably best right now, considering my lack of resolve at the moment. It’s been a while since we’ve been alone in a situation like this. The way things have been going the past few weeks, I had myself convinced that I was stronger than I am, and that I’ve overcome the weakness I feel when I’m around her.

  I was completely wrong.

  My heart slams against my chest at record speed and I’m consumed by an insatiable desire to grab her by the waist and pull her to me. I hug myself tighter in an attempt to keep my hands to myself. I work my jaw back and forth, hell bent on finding a way to bury my urge to confess to her, but I can’t. The words spill out of me before I can stop them.

  “Last night,” I say, my voice cracking the tension like a sledgehammer. “When I saw Javi kissing you . . . I thought you were kissing him back.”

  I swing my eyes to her, searching for a reaction. Any reaction. I know how she tries to hide what she’s feeling more than any other person I’ve ever met.

  Her eyes widen at the realization that I wasn’t defending her at all last night. I was reacting like a possessive boyfriend
, not her knight in shining armor.

  “Oh,” she says.

  “I didn’t know the whole story until this morning, when you told your version,” I say. I don’t know how I held myself together in the office this morning when I found out. All I wanted to do was lunge across the table and punch Javi’s father across the jaw for raising such an asshole. Just thinking about it causes my blood to boil. I inhale a deep breath, filling my lungs to their maximum capacity before huffing out a sigh. I notice my hands are clenched into tight fists, so I relax them and run my hands through my hair, turning to face her.

  “God, Lake. I can’t tell you how pissed I was. I wanted to hurt him so bad. And now? Now that I know he really was hurting you? I want to kill him.” I lean my head back against the doorframe and close my eyes. I have to get the thought of him out of my head. He hurt her, and I wasn’t there in time to protect her. The image of him pressing his mouth to hers against her will is clear in my mind, as is the fact that his lips were the last to touch hers. She doesn’t deserve to be kissed like that. She deserves to be kissed by someone who loves her. Someone who spends every waking moment trying to do everything right by her. Someone who would rather die than see her hurt. She doesn’t deserve to be kissed by anyone other than me.

  Her brows are furrowed and she’s staring at me with a confused expression. “How did you”—she pauses—“How’d you know I was there?”

  “I saw you. When I finished my piece, I saw you leaving.”

  She looks up at me and quietly sucks in a small breath with my admission. Her hand searches for support behind her and she takes a step back, steadying herself. Despite the darkness, I can see her eyes dance with hope. “Will, does this mean—”

  I immediately take two steps forward, closing the gap between us. My chest heaves with each passing breath as I attempt to calm my desire to show her just how sincere my words were last night. I trail the back of my fingers against the smooth skin of her cheek, then hook my thumb under her chin, bringing her face closer to mine. The simple contact of her skin against my fingers reminds me of what her kiss is capable of doing to me. It hypnotizes me. Her touch completely, wholeheartedly shakes me to my core and I try to force myself to slow down.

  She places her hand against my chest when I wrap my arms around her. I can feel her wanting to resist, but her need is just as strong as mine. I take a step forward until she finds solid backing and I quickly lean in and press my lips to hers before either of us has time to change our minds. When my tongue finds hers, she moans a soft moan and becomes putty in my hands, dropping her arms to her sides. I kiss her passionately, tenderly, and eagerly all at the same time.

  I grip her by the waist and easily lift her up onto the dryer, taking a stance between her legs and never losing contact with her lips. She begins to pull at my shirt, wanting me closer, so I oblige by pulling her against me as she encircles me with her legs. Her nails lightly dig into the muscles of my forearms as her fingers search their way up my arms. When she reaches my neck, her hands glide through my hair, sending chills to places I didn’t even know could get chills. She grabs tufts of my hair in her fists and pulls my head down, repositioning my mouth against the sweet skin of her neck. She takes the opportunity to catch her breath, panting and quietly moaning as my lips tease their way across her collarbone. I reach behind her and grab a handful of hair just as she did mine, then lightly tug until she leans her head back, giving me more access to the incredibly perfect skin against my lips. She does just as I’d hoped and arches her back, giving my lips silent permission to resume their pursuit as I make my way down her neck. I release her hair and slide my hand down her back, slipping my fingers between her skin and her jeans. My fingertips skim the top edge of her panties, and I groan under my breath.

  Having her in my arms fills the constant void that has been in my heart since the first night I kissed her, but with every passing moment, every kiss, and every stroke of her hands, an even greater desire builds within me. I need more of her than these stolen moments of passion. I need so much more.

  “Will,” she breathes.

  I mumble against her skin, unable to get out an audible response. I don’t really feel like talking at the moment. I run my other hand up the back of her shirt until it meets her bra and I pull her against me as I work my way back up her neck toward her mouth.

  “Does this mean . . .” she breathes heavily. “Does it mean we don’t have to pretend . . . anymore? We can be . . . together? Since you’re not . . . since you’re not my teacher?”

  My lips freeze against her neck with her breathless words. I want more than anything to cover her mouth with my own and make her stop talking about it. I just want to forget about it all for one night. Just for one night.

  But I can’t.

  My incredibly irresponsible moment of weakness just gave her the wrong idea. I’m still a teacher. Maybe not her teacher, but I’m still a teacher. And she’s still a student. And everything happening between us right now is still completely wrong, no matter how right I want it to be.

  In the process of thinking about all of the potential complications of her question, I’ve somehow released her from my death grip and have taken a step away from her.

  “Will?” she says, sliding off the dryer. She steps closer to me and the fear in her eyes makes my stomach drop. I did this to her.

  Again.

  I can feel the regret and agony creep up to my face, and it’s obvious she can see it, too.

  “Will? Tell me. Do the rules still apply?” she says fearfully.

  I don’t know what to say that can make it any less painful. It’s obvious I just made a huge mistake. “Lake,” I whisper, my voice full of shame. “I had a weak moment. I’m sorry.”

  She steps forward and shoves her hands into my chest. “A weak moment? That’s what you call this? A weak moment?” she yells. I flinch at her words, knowing I just said the wrong thing. “What were you gonna do, Will? When were you gonna stop making out with me and kick me out of your house this time?”

  She spins on her heel and storms out of the laundry room. Seeing her walk away causes me to panic at the thought of not only upsetting her, but losing her for good. “Lake, don’t,” I plead, following after her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again, I swear.”

  She turns to face me, tears already streaming down her cheeks. “You’re damn right it won’t! I finally accepted it, Will! After an entire month of torture, I was finally able to be around you again. Then you go and do this! I can’t do it anymore,” she says, throwing her arms up in defeat. “The way you consume my mind when we aren’t together? I don’t have time for it anymore. I’ve got more important things to think about now than your little weak moments.”

  Her words slam me. She’s absolutely right. I’ve gone so long trying to get her to accept things and move on so she won’t be burdened by my life, but I can’t even resist her long enough not to cave in to my selfish desire for her. I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve her forgiveness, let alone to be loved by her.

  “Get me the measuring tape,” she says, standing with her hand on the door.

  “Wh—what?”

  “It’s on the damn floor! Get me the measuring tape!”

  I walk back into the laundry room and retrieve the measuring tape, then take it back to her, placing it in her hand. She looks down at my hand clamped over hers. She wipes away falling tears with her other hand. She refuses to even look at me. The thought of her hating me for what just happened between us terrifies me. I love her so much and I want more than anything to be able to give it all up for her.

  But I can’t. Not yet.

  She has to know how hard this is for me, too. “Don’t make me the bad guy, Lake. Please.”

  She pulls her hand from mine and looks into my eyes. “Well you’re certainly not the martyr, anymore.” She walks out, slamming the door behind her.

  The words “wait for me” pass my lips just as the door closes, but s
he doesn’t hear me. “I want you to wait for me,” I say again. I know she can’t hear me, but the fact that I can say it out loud gives me the confidence I need to run after her and tell her to her face.

  I love her. I know she loves me. And despite what Julia thinks is good for us, I want her to wait for me. We need to be together. We have to be together. If I don’t stop her from walking away right now, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.

  I swing open the door, prepared to run after her, but I pause when I see her. She’s standing in her entryway, wiping away the tears that I’m responsible for. I watch as she takes a few deep breaths, trying to pull herself together before walking into her house. Seeing her effort to move past what just happened so that she can help her mother inside her own home brings it all back into perspective.

  I’m the last thing she needs in her life right now. I have too much responsibility, and with how things are going for her right now, the last thing she needs is to put her life on hold for me. Everything I say or do just brings her more grief and heartache and I can’t ask her to hold on to that while she waits for me. She doesn’t need to focus on me. Julia’s right. She needs to focus on her family.

  I reluctantly walk back into my house and shut the door behind me. The realization that I need to let her go for good physically brings me to my knees.

  17.

  the honeymoon

  “I WISH MORE than anything I had gone after you that night,” I say. “I should have told you exactly what I wanted to say. It would have saved us both a world of heartache.”

  Lake sits up on the bed and hugs her knees, looking down at me. “Not me,” she says. “I’m happy things worked out the way they did. I think we both needed that breather. And I definitely don’t regret all the time I spent with my mother during those three months. It was good for us.”

  “Good.” I smile. “That’s the only reason I didn’t run after you.”

  She releases her knees and falls back onto the bed. “But still. It was so hard living across the street from you. All I wanted to do was be with you, but I didn’t want anyone to know that. It’s like I spent the entire three months pretending to be happy when I was in front of other people. Eddie was the only one who knew how I really felt. I didn’t want Mom to know because I felt like it would just burden her even more if she knew how sad I was.”