You hungry?
The text is short and simple but it’s his way of letting me know he’s still here. Somewhere. Is he making me breakfast? I go to the bathroom before heading to the kitchen and brush my teeth. I change out of my tank top and pull on a simple sundress, then gather my hair up in a ponytail. I look at my reflection in the mirror and I see a girl who desperately wants to forgive a boy, but not without a hell of a lot of groveling first.
When I open the door to my bedroom, I’m met with the smell of bacon and the sound of grease sizzling from the kitchen. I walk down the hallway and around the corner, then pause. I stare at him for a while. His back is to me and he’s working his way around the stove, humming to himself. He’s shoeless, wearing jeans topped with a plain white sleeveless t-shirt. He already feels at home again, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.
“I left early this morning,” he says, talking with his back still to me, “because I was afraid your mom would walk in and think I was trying to get you pregnant. Then when I went for my run, I passed by your house again and realized her car wasn’t even home and remembered you said she does those trade days the first weekend of every month. So I decided to pick up some groceries because I wanted to cook you breakfast. I also almost bought groceries for lunch and dinner, but maybe we should take it one meal at a time today.” He turns around and faces me, slowly eyeing me up and down. “Happy Birthday. I really like that dress. I bought real milk, you want some?”
I walk to the bar and keep my eyes trained on him, trying to process the plethora of words that just came out of his mouth. I scoot out a chair and take a seat. He pours me a glass of milk, even though I never said I wanted one, then slides it to me with a huge grin on his face. Before I can take a sip of the milk, he closes the gap between us and takes my chin in his hand.
“I need to kiss you. Your mouth was so damn perfect last night, I’m scared I dreamt that whole thing.” He brings his mouth to mine and as soon as his tongue caresses mine, I can already tell this is going to be an issue.
His lips and his tongue and his hands are so incredibly perfect, I’ll never be able to stay mad at him as long as he’s able to use them against me like this. I grab his shirt and force my mouth against his even harder. He groans and fists his hands into my hair, then abruptly lets go and backs away. “Nope,” he says, smiling. “Didn’t dream it.”
He walks back to the stove and turns off the burners, then transfers the bacon to a plate lined with eggs and toast. He walks it to the bar and begins filling the plate in front of me with food. He takes a seat and begins eating. He’s smiling at me the whole time, and it suddenly hits me.
I know. I know what’s wrong with him. I know why he’s happy and angry and temperamental and all over the place and it finally makes so much sense.
“Are we allowed to play Dinner Quest, even though it’s breakfast time?” he asks.
I take a sip of my milk and nod. “If I get the first question.”
He lays his fork down on his plate and smiles. “I was thinking about just letting you have all the questions.”
“I only need the answer to one.”
He sighs and leans back against his seat, then looks down at his hands. I can tell by the way he’s avoiding my gaze that he already knows I know. His reaction is one of guilt. I lean forward in my chair and glare at him.
“How long have you been using drugs, Holder?”
He shoots his eyes up to meet mine and his expression is stoic. He stares at me for a moment and I keep my stance, wanting him to know I’m not letting up until he tells me the truth. He purses his lips together in a tight line, then looks down at his hands again. For a second I’m thinking he might be preparing to bolt out the front door in order to avoid talking about it, but then I see something on his face I wasn’t expecting to see at all. A dimple.
He’s grimacing, attempting to hold on to his expression, but the corners of his mouth give way and his smile breaks out into laughter.
He’s laughing and he’s laughing really hard and it’s really pissing me off.
“Drugs?” he says between fits of laughter. “You think I’m on drugs?” He continues laughing until he realizes that I don’t think it’s the least bit funny at all. He eventually stops and sucks in a deep breath, then reaches across the table and takes my hand in his. “I’m not on drugs, Sky. I promise. I don’t know why you would think that, but I swear.”
“Then what the hell is wrong with you?”
His expression drops with that question, and he releases my hand from his. “Can you be a little less vague?” He falls back into his chair and folds his arms over his chest.
I shrug. “Sure. What happened to us and why are you acting like it never happened?”
His elbow is resting on the table and he looks down at his arm. He slowly traces each letter of his tattoo with his fingers, deep in thought. I know silence isn’t considered a sound, but right now the silence between us is the loudest sound in the world. He pulls his arm off the table and looks up at me.
“I didn’t want to let you down, Sky. I’ve let everyone down in my life that’s ever loved me, and after that day at lunch I knew I let you down, too. So…I left you before you could start loving me. Otherwise, any effort to try not to disappoint you would be hopeless.”
His words are full of apology and sadness and regret, but he still can’t just say them. He overreacted and jealousy got the best of him, but if he would have just said those two words we would have been spared an entire month of emotional agony. I’m shaking my head, because I just don’t get it. I don’t understand why he couldn’t just say I’m sorry.
“Why couldn’t you just say it, Holder? Why couldn’t you just apologize?”
He leans forward across the table and takes my hand, looking me hard in the eyes. “I’m not apologizing to you…because I don’t want you to forgive me.”
The sadness in his eyes must mirror mine and I don’t want him seeing it. I don’t want him seeing me sad, so I squeeze my eyes shut. He lets go of my hand and I hear him walk around the table until his arms are around me and he’s picking me up. He sets me down on the bar so that we’re at eye level and he brushes the hair from my face and makes me open my eyes again. His eyebrows are pulled together and the pain on his face is raw and real and heartbreaking.
“Babe, I screwed up. I’ve screwed up more than once with you, I know that. But believe me, what happened at lunch that day wasn’t jealousy or anger or anything that should ever scare you. I wish I could tell you what happened, but I can’t. Someday I will, but I can’t right now and I need you to accept that. Please. And I’m not apologizing to you, because I don’t want you to forget what happened and you should never forgive me for it. Ever. Never make excuses for me, Sky.”
He leans in and kisses me briefly, then pulls back and continues. “I told myself to just stay away from you and let you be mad at me, because I do have so many issues that I’m not ready to share with you yet. And I tried so hard to stay away, but I can’t. I’m not strong enough to keep denying whatever this is we could have. And yesterday in the lunchroom when you were hugging Breckin and laughing with him? It felt so good to see you happy, Sky. But I wanted so bad to be the one who was making you laugh like that. It was tearing me up inside that you were thinking that I didn’t care about us, or that spending that weekend with you wasn’t the best weekend I’ve ever had in my life. Because I do care and it was the best. It was the best fucking weekend in the history of all weekends.”
My heart is beating wildly, almost as fast as the words are pouring out of him. He releases his firm hold on my face and strokes his hands over my hair, dropping them to the nape of my neck. He keeps them there and calms himself with a deep breath, then continues.
“It’s killing me, baby,” he says, his voice much more calm and quiet. “It’s killing me because I don’t want you to go another day without knowing how I feel about you. And I’m not ready to tell you I’m in love with you,
because I’m not. Not yet. But whatever this is I’m feeling—it’s so much more than just like. It’s so much more. And for the past few weeks I’ve been trying to figure it out. I’ve been trying to figure out why there isn’t some other word to describe it. I want to tell you exactly how I feel but there isn’t a single goddamned word in the entire dictionary that can describe this point between liking you and loving you, but I need that word. I need it because I need you to hear me say it.”
He pulls my face to his and he kisses me. They’re short kisses, mostly pecks, but he kisses me over and over, pulling back between each kiss, waiting for me to respond.
“Say something,” he pleads.
I’m looking into his terrified eyes and for the first time since we met…I think I actually understand him. All of him. He doesn’t react the way he does because there are five different sides to his personality. He reacts the way he does because there’s only one side to Dean Holder.
Passionate.
He’s passionate about life, about love, about his words, about Les. And I’ll be damned if I wasn’t just added to his list. The intensity he conveys isn’t unnerving…it’s beautiful. I’ve gone so long trying to find ways to feel numb any chance I get, but seeing the enthusiasm behind his eyes right now…it makes me want to feel every single thing about life. The good, the bad, the beautiful, the ugly, the pleasure, the pain. I want that. I want to start feeling life the same way he does. And my first step to doing so starts with this hopeless boy in front of me who’s pouring his heart out, searching for that perfect word, wanting desperately to help me add feeling back into living.
Back into living.
The word comes to me like it’s always been there, tucked away between like and love in the dictionary, right where it belongs. “Living,” I say.
The desperation in his eyes eases slightly, and he lets out a short, confused laugh. “What?” He shakes his head, trying to understand my response.
“Live. If you mix the letters up in the words like and love, you get live. You can use that word.”
He laughs again, but this time it’s a laugh of relief. He wraps his arms around me and he kisses me with nothing but a hell of a lot of relief. “I live you, Sky,” he says against my lips. “I live you so much.”
I have no idea how he does it, but I’ve completely forgiven him, have become infatuated with him and now I can’t stop kissing him, all in the span of fifteen minutes. He definitely has a way with words. I’m starting to not mind that it takes him so long to think of them. He pulls away from my mouth and smiles, grabbing my waist with his hands.
“So what do you want to do for your birthday?” he asks, pulling me down off the bar. He gives me another quick peck on the mouth and walks to the living room where his wallet and keys are on the end table.
“We don’t have to do anything. I don’t expect you to entertain me just because it’s my birthday.”
He slips his keys into the pocket of his pants and looks up at me. His mouth hints at a wicked smile and he won’t stop staring at me.
“What?” I ask. “You look guilty.”
He laughs and shrugs. “I was just thinking of all the ways I could entertain you if we stayed here today. Which is exactly why we need to leave.”
Which is exactly why I want to stay here.
“We could go see my Mom,” I suggest.
“Your mom?” He looks at me warily.
“Yeah. She runs an herbal booth at the flea market. It’s the place she goes the first weekend of every month. I never go because she’s there fourteen hours a day and I get bored. But it’s one of the biggest flea markets in the world and I’ve always wanted to go walk around. It’s only an hour and a half drive. They have funnel cake,” I add, trying to make it sound enticing.
Holder walks back to me and wraps his arms around me. “If you want to go to the flea market, then we’re going to the flea market. I’m gonna run home and change and I have something I need to do. Pick you up in an hour?”
I nod. I know it’s just a flea market, but I’m excited. I don’t know how Karen will feel with me showing up unannounced with Holder. I haven’t really told her anything about him, so I feel bad sort of springing him on her like this. It’s her own fault, though. If she didn’t ban technology I could call her and give her a heads up.
Holder gives me another quick peck and walks to the front door.
“Hey,” I say, just as he’s about to walk out. He spins around and looks at me. “It’s my birthday and the last two kisses you’ve given me have been pretty damn pathetic. If you expect me to spend the day with you, I suggest you start kissing me like a boyfriend kisses his…”
The word slips from my mouth and I immediately cut the rest of the sentence off. We still haven’t discussed labels yet and the fact that we just made up within the past half hour makes my lackadaisical use of the word boyfriend feel like something Matty-boy would have said to me. “I mean…” I stutter, then I just give up and clamp my mouth shut. I can’t recover from that.
He’s turned around facing me, still standing by the front door. He’s not smiling. He’s looking at me with that look again, holding my gaze with his, not speaking. He tilts his head toward me and raises both of his eyebrows curiously. “Did you just refer to me as your boyfriend?”
He’s not smiling about the fact that I just referred to him as my boyfriend and that realization makes me wince. God, this seems so childish.
“No,” I say stubbornly, folding my arms across my chest. “Only cheesy fourteen-year-olds do that.”
He takes a few steps toward me, never changing his expression. He stops two feet in front of me and mirrors my stance. “That’s too bad. Because when I thought you referred to me as your boyfriend just now, it made me want to kiss the living hell out of you.” He narrows his eyes and there’s a playful look about him that immediately relieves the knot in my stomach. He turns around and heads back to the door. “I’ll see you in an hour.” He opens the door and turns around before he leaves, slowly easing his way outside, teasing me with his playful grin and lickable dimples.
I sigh and roll my eyes. “Holder, wait.”
He pauses and proudly leans against the doorframe.
“You better come kiss your girlfriend goodbye,” I say, feeling every bit as cheesy as I sound. His face washes with victory and he walks back into the living room. He slips his hand to the small of my back and pulls me against him. It’s our first freestanding kiss and I love the way he’s securing me protectively with his arm around my lower back. He traces his fingers along my cheek and runs them through my hair, bringing his lips closer to mine. He’s not staring at my lips, though. He’s looking straight into my eyes and his are full of something I can’t place. It’s not lust this time; it’s more like a look of appreciation.
He continues to stare at me without closing the gap between our lips. He’s not teasing me or trying to get me to kiss him first. He’s just looking at me with appreciation and affection, and it turns my heart to butter. My hands are on his shoulders, so I slowly run them up his neck and through his hair, enjoying whatever this silent moment is that’s occurring between us. His chest rises and falls against the rhythm of mine and his eyes begin searching my face, scrolling over every feature. The way he’s looking at me is causing my entire body to grow weak, and I’m thankful his arm is still locked around my waist.
He lowers his forehead to mine and lets out a long sigh, looking at me with a look that’s quickly turned into something resembling pain. It prompts me to slide my hands down to his cheeks and softly stroke them with my fingers, wanting to take away whatever it is that’s behind those eyes right now.
“Sky,” he says, focusing on me intently. He says it like he’s about to follow it up with something profound, but instead, my name is the only thing he says. He slowly brings his mouth to mine and our lips meet. He inhales a deep breath as he presses his closed lips against mine, breathing me into him. He pulls away and looks back do
wn into my eyes for several more seconds, stroking my cheek. I’ve never been savored like this before, and it’s absolutely beautiful.
He dips his head again and rests his lips against mine, my top lip between both of his. He kisses me as soft as possible, treating my mouth as though it’s breakable. I part my lips and allow him to deepen his kiss, which he does, but even then it’s still soft. It’s appreciative and gentle and he keeps one hand on the back of my head and one on my hip as he slowly tastes and teases every part of my mouth. This kiss is just like he is—studied and never in a hurry.
Just when my mind has succumbed to every part of being wrapped up in him, his lips come to a standstill and he slowly pulls back. My eyes flutter open and I let out a breath that may have been mixed with the words, “Oh my.”
Seeing my breathless reaction causes him to break out with a smug grin. “That was our first official kiss as a couple.”
I wait for the panic to set in, but it doesn’t. “A couple,” I repeat, quietly.
“Damn straight.” He still has his hand on my lower back and I’m pressed against him, looking up at his eyes as they focus down on me. “And don’t worry,” he adds. “I’ll be informing Grayson myself. I ever see him trying to touch you like he does and he’ll be reintroduced to my fist.”
His hand moves from my lower back and up to my cheek. “I’m really leaving now. I’ll see you in an hour. I live you.” He gives me a quick peck on the lips and backs away, then turns toward the door.
“Holder?” I say as soon as I suck enough breath back into my lungs to speak. “What do you mean by reintroduced? Have you and Grayson been in a fight before?”
Holder’s expression turns into a tight-lipped blank one and he nods, but barely. “I told you before, babe. He’s not a good person.” The door closes behind him and he leaves me with even more questions. But what’s new?
I decide to forego my own shower and call Six, instead. I’ve got a lot to catch her up on. I run to my room and crawl out the window, then slide hers up and pull myself inside. I pick up the phone by her bed and take out my cell phone to find the text that she sent with her international number. When I start dialing, my cell phone receives an incoming message from Holder.
I’m really dreading spending all day with you. This doesn’t sound like fun at all. Also, your sundress is really unflattering and way too summery, but you should definitely keep it on.
I grin. Dammit, I really do live this hopeless boy.
I dial the number to reach Six and lay back on her bed. She answers groggily on the third ring.
“Hey,” I say. “You sleeping?”
I can hear her yawn. “Obviously not. But you really need to start taking time differences into consideration.”
I laugh. “Six? It’s afternoon there. Even if I did take time differences into consideration, it wouldn’t matter with you.”
“I had a rough morning,” she says, defensively. “I miss your face. What’s up?”
“Not much.”
“You lie. You sound annoyingly happy. I’m guessing you and Holder finally worked out whatever the hell happened at school that day?”
“Yep. And you are the first to know that I, Linden Sky Davis, am now
Hopeless Page 15
