by Sara Hubbard
He grins mischievously. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”
Chapter 13
I don’t like surprises because I’m too impatient to wait for things. Instant gratification, please. Getting through class drove me near crazy. To make it worse, he still won’t tell me after he picks me up. I chew my nails while we drive for almost an hour.
“All right, you’ve kept me in suspense long enough. Where are we going?”
“I have nothing on my schedule today except a few classes, and I’ve already got As in them, so… I wanted to get away.”
“Get away? Are we going to an airport?”
His eyes twinkle at me. “Nah, my parent’s house.”
“What? You’re taking me to you parent’s house? Why?” I say, almost with a gasp.
“Calm down, I’m not proposing. My parents are in Florida for a month. My dad asked me to stop in once a week to check on the house.”
“Oh.” Whew.
“Even if they were home, it wouldn’t be a big deal. All my close friends have met my parents.”
“Close?”
The word hangs in the air between us. It’s natural that we’d bond over our shared experience. How could we not? But there is more to it than that. He and I are open and honest. We put our hearts out there for the world to see, and we lash out when we’re hurt. We’re both vulnerable, and we choose to hide it by acting tough. But when it comes down to it, we’re soft. We’re the same. And recognizing that sameness in another person makes me feel like I’m not alone anymore. Charlie gets me, most of the time, but I never feel like she truly understands me. Sometimes I think she tolerates me. But not Michael.
Yes, we’ve gotten close quickly, and it’s totally my MO, but I think we’d be close no matter how I acted with guys.
We reach a paved road just off the highway a few minutes later. The road is long and winds through the forest. It’s not pockmarked like many other roads in Nova Scotia, some of which are big enough to swallow a car, even one as big as Michael’s. It’s well maintained and bright black, like it’s new or freshly sealed.
A large home breaks through the trees. The driveway wraps around it. I stare at it with my mouth agape. This isn’t a road; it’s a fucking mile-long driveway.
I look at him and he shrugs.
“Is this where you live?”
“Yep.” He gets out. I still sit and stare. It’s two stories high with a triple car garage and a stone front, though the rest of the massive structure is logs. The front yard is immaculately tended to, and though the flowers and shrubs are covered for the winter, I imagine what this place would look like in the summer. I open the door and slowly step out. I hear rushing water nearby, like a spring or river.
“Come on,” he says, waving me forward.
He unlocks the door and opens it wide for me to step inside. An alarm beeps at us, but he punches in a code and it turns off. “Can I take your coat?” he asks while holding out his hands.
I spin around as I take in the tall ceilings in the foyer and the crystal chandelier that hangs above my head. The crystals cast a pattern of blue and gold light on the hardwood stairs.
“Umm...Michael, this is insane. How many bedrooms are there?”
“Uh…six?”
“You don’t know?” I slap his chest.
“I don’t go around counting. Lilianne bought this place a few years before I started high school, and we moved in when I was sixteen.”
“Lilianne?”
“My stepmom,” he says, his voice losing all warmth.
“You don’t get along with her?”
He heaves a sigh. “She’s pushy.”
“What does that mean?”
He merely shrugs and leaves it at that. Since he seems to hate pushy so much, I let it go, though I’m curious why he doesn’t seem to care for her that much.
He gives me a tour of the house, and I won’t lie. When I see the size of the bathtub off the master bedroom, I climb inside and close my eyes and say, “I never want to get out.”
One of the things I miss the most about being in residence is not being able to take baths. I mean, there are a few baths available, but there is no way I’d use them. I might be messy, but even I have standards. Those baths are sex dens for my floor when roommates don’t take a hint. The thought gives me hives.
He bends down to rest his arms on the side of the clawfoot tub. “Should I leave you here? Or join you?”
My stomach flutters again. He does this to me more and more as I get to know him better. His gaze intensifies, and I swallow hard, focusing on his bottom lip that’s a fraction larger than the top. After licking my lips, I sit up and climb out. He clears his throat and offers me a hand to get over the edge. With his hand in mine, he gently pulls me along, both of us ignoring the chemistry we share and our obvious attraction. It would be so easy to fall for him. If only I could let myself. If only I could love someone that’s healthy.
As we move through the house, our sexual tension simmers. He’s as good at ignoring it as I am. In his room, which he saves for last, we’re back to being Emily and Michael, BFFs. I barge inside and let go of his hand, ready to get a closer look at Michael and the secrets I can learn about him. His dresser is cluttered with trophies. I pick up a few to find at least half a dozen MVPs. On the mirror over his dresser, there are dozens of pictures, some taped and some tucked into the wood frame. Teenage Michael. I giggle. “Look at you. Where’s the rest of you?” I point to one in particular. He’s in a hockey jersey but with jeans on. He’s so thin his clothes hang off his body. “How old were you?”
“Fourteen.”
“Wow. Me-ow. Did you beat girls off with a stick?”
“Laugh it up. Show me photos when you were fourteen.”
I’ve always looked the same, only my boobs didn’t make an appearance until I was in grade eleven. Right around the time I started serial dating, looking for the one. Because even at sixteen, I was preoccupied with guys.
“I’m teasing, Michael. You’re cute. You were thin, though.”
“I couldn’t gain weight to save my life. I wanted to play hockey so bad, and I knew I needed to bulk up if I ever had a shot at pro so I started working out constantly, changed my diet to high protein, drank shakes, did the whole lot. When I was sixteen, I was bigger than my Phys Ed teacher, and he was over two hundred pounds.”
“You’re so driven. I love that about you. It’s a really attractive quality, at least for me.”
I slide my fingers over the other pictures, unable to keep the grin off my face. “Oooh, who’s this?” I point to a girl in a tight floral dress standing next to him in a tux.
“Chelsea Graves. First girlfriend.”
“Aww. Did she break your heart?”
He regards me seriously. “No.”
“And her?” A woman with dark hair in a white blazer and black skirt. Michael stands beside her, his arms around her middle. He almost touches her shoulders. Her eyes are almost the same brilliant shade of blue as Michael’s.
“That was my mother.” His tone is soft like a whisper.
I take the frame in both my hands, cradling it like it’s breakable. “What happened to her?”
“She got sick when was I seven. Breast cancer.”
“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry.”
“She had surgery, treatment…and she was better for a while. When it came back the second time, I was twelve and it was everywhere. She got treatment at first, but it just made her weak, and she was so sick. I tried to convince her to keep with it because she got better the first time, but…” He shakes his head; his gaze seems to go right through me. “My dad finally explained their goal wasn’t to fix her, but just to give her a little more time. She died the day after I turned thirteen.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets as he stares at the picture of his mother. The look on his face right now is the same as the look on the boy’s face in the picture. Sad. Vulnerable. Innocent.
I gent
ly put the photo back where it was and turn to him, wrapping my arms around his waist like he did to his mother. I lean my head against his chest to hear it beat double-time in my ear. I can’t imagine losing a parent so young or having my dad marry so soon after. That must have been hard for him, too.
“I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He pats my back and then rubs slow circles between my shoulders. “It was a long time ago.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. I’m sure it still hurts.”
He clears his throat and sighs. “Sometimes.”
“I wish I could take it from you. I’d do that for you, for anyone that matters to me.”
He chuckles lightly and cups my face.
I look up at him and his smiling eyes.
“I bet you would.”
For him, in this moment, I would do just about anything.
He leans in, his eyes closing, and softly presses a kiss to my forehead. My body melts against him. It’s perhaps more intimate than any kiss I’ve ever had, and I want more of it. Not sex, not kisses, but the way he makes me feel, like the world around us is irrelevant. But that feeling also scares me. It would be easy to fall for him. The old me would have pursued him like a lion stalking a herd in the Serengeti. I would have fallen hard, and our relationship would have burned brightly until it eventually fizzled out.
I look down, pressing my head to his chest and breath in and out, trying desperately to catch my breath and push away the hold he has over me. I take a step back and then another, strolling around the room while waiting for my heart to stop thundering inside my chest.
There are no photos of his stepmom in here, or his dad. I call him on it.
“They’re all over the house.”
“But not in your room?”
He shrugs and runs his hands through his hair.
“What are you asking?” he says, putting me on the spot.
“I guess I’m asking if you get along with your dad and your stepmom. They got together so soon after your mom...”
He nods. “Was it easy? No, it wasn’t. Do I love my dad? Sure. Lilianne?” He lets out a long sigh. “I don’t know. It’s been hard for me to let anyone in since Mom died. I don’t begrudge my dad happiness. He’s a good man and he works hard, but I don’t have to love who he loves. I don’t have to love anyone ever again. Life is so fragile. You have no idea when or where your time is up. You’re here one minute, and the next you’re gone. It’s hard to let yourself care about someone when you know how devastating it’ll be to lose them. It’s easier to not care at all.”
“But you did love again. You loved Chloe.”
“Did I?”
“Didn’t you?”
He smiles weakly at me, and it doesn’t touch his eyes. “Maybe. She was the first since Mom. I was pretty careful about not letting anyone in, not Lilianne, not any girlfriends, and not even my dad. But I let her in somehow. She just pushed and pushed until I finally gave in. Yeah, I guess I loved her, but was it healthy? Not even a little. I would have been better sticking to my guns and keeping people an arm’s length away.”
“Do you want to keep me an arm’s length away?”
He smiles a little wider now. “I definitely do, but will I? I haven’t decided yet.”
“I think you already have, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You may not love me, as a friend or whatever, but you’re letting me in whether you wanted to or not.”
He considers that as a silence claims the room. This conversation is getting heavy, and neither of us seems to want that. Not now, anyway. So I brush it aside, for both of our sakes.
“What do you want to do now?” I ask, trying to act cheery.
He reaches down to touch a hand to my cheek, his thumb moving to stroke my skin. He licks his lips and steps forward, sucking me into his personal space where it’s warm and safe and where I have little self-control. I could live here.
His eyes never leave mine as his head slowly moves forward. He watches me for signs that I don’t want this, and I can’t give him any because I can’t deny how much I want him. All I can do is refuse to give in. I tip my head to break the trance and his forehead rests on top of mine. He breathes hard, and I let out a sigh.
“We’ll ruin everything,” I say half-heartedly. “I’m so happy to have you in my life. You came at a time when I needed you.”
“Is that all you want from me? Honestly? Is friendship?”
I shake my head, my hair twisting against my head where he still touches me. “I want you, Michael. I can’t deny that. You’re ridiculously hot.”
He chuckles. His hands cup my cheeks and force me to look up at his tender expression.
“I might want you, but I need your friendship. And need trumps want,” I say. It’s as much for him as it is for me. He has to see that.
“Does it?”
It’s my turn to laugh. “God, help me, I wish it didn’t. But it does.” I cover his hands with mine and feel the rough patches on his calloused fingers.
“You’re killing me,” he says. “I’ve never wanted to touch a woman more than I want to touch you.”
“I know. Me too,” I say with a sigh.
“Is this about Chloe?” he asks.
“Partly.”
“Brad?”
“No. Definitely not. I’m over him now.” And I’m more sure of this now than I ever have been.
“Then I don’t understand. I’m into you. In a way I never have been about any other girl. I don’t want to be, but I am. And I can’t pretend I’m not anymore.”
“Let’s just give it some time, okay? I can’t keep rushing into relationships. This is already good. Can’t we just enjoy it?”
“For now,” he says, brushing my cheek.
But how long will someone like him wait for a girl like me?
Chapter 14
The Wednesday before exams start Charlie and I spend our evening on her couch watching The Bachelorette. Ozzie has practice, and then he’s going out for a drink with his teammates at Pilgrim’s. I haven’t seen her in a few days, and it doesn’t surprise me that she tries to sneak in some studying during the commercials.
“We could have waited until after exams to hang out,” I say.
“No, it’s fine. I miss having you around.”
Truth is, since she told me I shouldn’t be with Michael, I’ve been distant. Lately, my reasons for not being with him seem less and less important, and I feel like she’ll know and judge me.
“I miss having you around, too.” Which is true.
“When we lived together, I’d always see you at the end of the day or in the morning. No matter what, I could count on seeing you. And now…I feel like I’m lucky to see you around school. I feel like I’m losing you,” she says.
“You’ll never lose me. You’re my best friend.”
“But I haven’t been there for you as much as I should have.” She scooches closer so we’re sitting shoulder to shoulder, our eyes still on the screen.
“I’m fine, Charlie. Really.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” She picks up the remote and lowers the volume until it’s inaudible. “Screw the show. Tell me what else is going on with you.”
“Nothing, really. I’ve been going to class.”
“Good for you.”
Insert eye roll here. “And hanging out with Michael. I’m actually getting to be pretty good on skates. I mean, I’m not going to win gold at the Olympics or anything, but I can hold my own. We had a race the other night, and I didn’t beat him because he’s stupid fast, but I wasn’t far behind him. I don’t even fall anymore.”
She stares at me, expressionless, a hint of a smile on her face.
I groan at her and grab a pillow, slapping her lap with it.
“What?” she asks, a little too innocently.
“I know what you think. We’re not sleeping together. And if I’m being honest, my friendship with him is p
robably the healthiest relationship I’ve ever had with a guy. Ever.”
“I hope that’s true.”
But she’s not convinced that it is, and that hurts me. I know she’s looking out for me, but it saddens me to know she doesn’t recognize the change in me. I’m starting to feel happy again, and it’s all because of Michael.
“Do you like him?” I ask. “Like really like him?”
“Of course! He’s a sweetheart.”
“Then be happy he’s my friend. We’ve been there for each other.”
She retracts her head like I’ve slapped her. “I’m there for you.”
“When you’re not busy.” Shit. I don’t want to hurt her—that’s the last thing I want to do—but her gaze casts to the floor, letting me know I did just that. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that like it came out. He’s important to me. I just wish you’d support that.”
“I do.”
“And I’m not going to have a freak-out again. I don’t even think I’m the same person.”
“How do you mean?”
It’s hard to explain, and even harder that she’s my best friend and hasn’t noticed on her own. She used to know everything about me, perhaps more than I knew myself. It makes me wonder if our drifting apart is solely my fault. I was so sure it was me, but in the weeks since Brad and I broke up, I’ve been available at lot and she’s usually busy with school or Ozzie, or she’s freelancing articles for the paper she interned at last summer.
Even now, she’s doing homework during commercials when we made plans to hang out. My confidence has taken such a hit in the last few months, and when she told me I pretty much ignored her for a guy, I was devastated. It was just another thing wrong with me. But was it all me? I don’t think so. I think we were both at fault. I’m not going to throw that in her face, but it helps me to take a breath and forgive myself for my part in it.
As for my obsession with guys and love, I’ve managed to start a healthy relationship with a guy that’s not about sex or filling some void inside of me. I go to class. I’m getting good grades. Finally! I even have answers to some of the hard questions Erikson asked me the other day. And she asks me to explain myself? I feel like she should already know, and that makes me sad.
