by Lindsey Iler
“I’ve been all right.” Graham reaches to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear as we’re talking. It’s second nature to him, something he used to do all the time. My head flashes up to catch the action, and he sneaks his hand into his pocket. He’s been caught.
“Graham, there you are, babe. I’ve been trying to find you everywhere.” A soft, mousy voice breaks through our silence. It must belong to the cute blonde walking our way.
“Do you need something?” Graham asks with a curt tone, never dropping his gaze from me.
I can’t stop the eye roll. There he is, the old Graham he threatened would rear his ugly head again. I only experienced this side of him for a short while. I wasn’t this Graham’s biggest fan, but it’s hard to judge him when I know the real one underneath all the smoke and mirrors.
“Just you, baby.” The blonde melts around Graham’s waist, sliding in under his arm. “Oh. Hey, Kennedy.” From the way her eyebrows raise when she says my name, I know she’s surprised to see me.
Her tone tells me everything I need to know. She’s not thrilled I’m talking to Graham. Her eyes narrow in on me, and I try to hold back my laugh, but it’s out of my control at this point. My lips slam shut when Graham glares down at me.
The four of us stand in an awkward huddle on the back deck. The need to break the silence that’s nearly killing us all makes me speak up.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know your name,” I say with a smug grin.
All I want to do is rip her hair out and yank her away from Graham. Dan gasps and then laughs under his breath. Graham looks annoyed I don’t know the name of his cute little arm candy. He shoots a threatening glare at Dan, who’s leaning over the railing, trying to control his outburst.
“I’m Rachel. We had AP English together.” She runs her fingertips up and down Graham’s chest.
I think I’m going to throw up. Does she really have to do this in front of me?
Graham watches intently to see my reaction. When I don’t say anything and turn to look at Dan, who’s stifling his laughter at this stupid exchange, Graham allows Rachel to pull him away. I lean against the railing and take in a few quick breaths of air.
“I’m glad she’s still in there.” Dan smiles down at me.
“What do you mean?” His words confuse me.
“The feisty girl who stood up to the slutty waitress. That same girl just came out right then. You know who Rachel is, Ken.” Dan quirks a questioning, but proud eyebrow at me.
Dan’s right. I know who Rachel is. She’s been in a few of my study groups. I don’t like the way she’s gawking at Graham. If he chooses to return to sleeping around with every girl willing to spread her legs, (which is basically all of them), then I can act as if I don’t recognize her. That’s my strategy from this point on.
“This year’s going to be fantastic.” Dan celebrates with a loud hoot. He throws his arm over my shoulder and guides us back inside the house.
Fantastic might be a stretch.
Interesting is more like it.
Chapter Two
Graham
I’m sorry. I don’t know your name. What the fuck is that all about?
Kennedy knows exactly who Rachel is. She’s second in our class right behind Kennedy herself. She and Kennedy had study groups together last year.
Well played, Kennedy. Well played.
When I heard Kennedy’s voice, I was walking along the side of the house. The sound of it left me stunned frozen. I watched from afar before I approached her and Dan. When she wrapped her arms around my waist, I held my breath. Her scent is so embedded in my mind that it haunts me. But to breathe her in? I might never let her go.
The last time I saw her was in the hospital when I walked out on her. I walked out on us. That’s a day I’d like to forget. When my mind wanders to that place, I remember the stillness in her voice as she told me she hoped, one day, I’d find the guy she fell in love with.
I don’t think he exists anymore. A lot can change in four months.
Her hair is longer now, falling almost halfway down her back. Unlike most girls, her beautiful, light brown color is natural. I’m happy she hasn’t done anything drastic with it. It’s perfect the way it is. She’s just as beautiful as I remember her being, maybe even more so.
Now, as I lean against the kitchen countertop and wait for Rachel to come back, a petite body slides into my side. I look down to see a bushel of bright red hair.
Here we go.
“She’ll be okay.” Violet’s voice is quiet and soft so no one can eavesdrop.
“How can you be so sure?” I ask, slamming my tight fist into the countertop beside me.
“Look at her.” Violet points out the French doors to the deck.
Kennedy’s head falls back as she laughs at something Dan’s saying.
“I haven’t seen that smile all summer.”
“I hope you’re right, Violet.” A slight grin creeps onto my face as I watch her be carefree and less broken than the last time I saw her.
Violet twirls to face me. She’s trying to get a read on my thoughts as her eyes narrow in on me. “Why do you even care, Graham? Because it seems you’ve moved on, and rather quickly, I might add. I’m warning you now. Don’t fuck with her head. That girl loves you, so don’t take advantage of that.”
“You mean loved me?”
“No, I’m pretty sure I said it right the first time.”
Violet pushes off the counter to meet Kennedy and Dan as they enter the house. She swings an arm around her best friend, and they laugh at something, something I’m no longer a part of.
I don’t deserve to be a part of Kennedy’s life. I’ve had to work this through in my head all summer. School doesn’t start for another week. My assumption that I’d have a few more days to deal with the fact I can no longer hold her hand and kiss her whenever I want has been proven wrong. Seeing her here is a hard reality.
It fucking sucks, to be honest.
Seeing Kennedy in the flesh is harder than I thought it would be.
As I walk out the back door, I grab a full bottle of tequila off the counter and stride past the three of them. They don’t even notice me. I don’t care where Rachel is anymore, and I don’t care who’s looking for me. The epic game of Beer Pong can wait.
I kick at the leaves along the edge of the property. Every five steps or so, I gulp a long pull of the thunderous fluid. It burns the first few times but then goes down smooth. This means one thing. I’m going to be drunk in no time. I can forget about the glisten in Kennedy’s eyes and the way her sexy as hell black tank top rides up just enough to expose the perfect patch of skin on her hips.
If you’re going to pull this shit off, then you need to get yourself under control.
I sink down onto a log in the middle of the path to the creek and travel back in time. This is where Dan and I, as kids, came out to play in the mud after it rained. I know the property like the back of my hand. Back in middle school, Dan’s house was my escape when being under the same roof as my father was unbearable.
When I hear footsteps, the bottle is almost empty, maybe four or five shots left. Dan’s probably told Rachel I’m out here. I wish she’d get the hint she’s only a quick lay. For such a smart girl, she sure is a dumbass.
“Rachel, I’m not in the mood, okay? Just leave me alone.” Haphazardly, I dismiss her, waving my hand in the air.
She rips the bottle from my grasp as I bend my head down between my legs. I hear her sniff the liquor and let out a disgusted grunt of disapproval.
“How do you drink this shit?”
That seductive voice doesn’t belong to Rachel. I’m hearing things. Am I going crazy? Seeing her is hard enough, but now I’m imagining her voice.
Fuck this.
“Has anyone ever told you, you sound a lot like Kennedy?” I rest my elbows on my knees and lean my head against my hands.
“This is Kennedy, you dumbass.” She laughs as my head snaps up in surprise. “Maybe
you should quit drinking. You’re a mess.”
Kennedy hits my shoulder with the bottle to encourage me to slide over. With a groan, I reluctantly make room for her.
“What are you doing out here?”
“Let’s just say I’m a glutton for punishment.”
Kennedy doesn’t take a sip before handing the bottle back to me. I imagine alcohol is the last thing on her mind right now. Before, when she drank, she did it because she believed she had to. She wasn’t a part of our group. She didn’t fit in. Drinking was her way of feeling less out of the loop.
I look at her and she catches me staring. I take a quick sip, watching her the entire time. Her glare at the near-empty bottle makes me uncomfortable. Being someone Kennedy isn’t proud of is a hard pill to swallow, but here I am, gulping the weight down my throat.
“You seem different,” I observe, not knowing where this conversation will go, but I can’t sit here without talking to her. This could be the last time, for all we know.
“I am different,” she answers in a hauntingly, sad voice.
She plays with the hem of her shirt, and I’m not ashamed to say the patch of skin showing is distracting.
What I really want to do is rip it over her head along with the rest of her clothes.
Fuck.
“I liked the girl you were before.” I realize, too late, how dangerous that statement is to both of us.
“I liked her, too, Graham. Trust me. I’d give anything to get her to come back, but I don’t think she can at this point. I just...” Kennedy lets the thought fall.
She's honest even though she knows I don’t want to hear any of it. I’m not even positive she wants to hear the truth come out of her own mouth.
“You just, what?” I push, needing to know what she’s thinking. Like her, I’m a glutton for punishment. I need to know where she’s at in her head. It’s selfish, but somehow, I believe it will put me at some sort of ease.
“I don’t think she’s coming back. Not all of her, at least. He took a lot of things from me that night that won’t come back.” Kennedy swings a leg over the log, straddling it between her legs.
She calls Craig ‘he’ instead of his name.
Her chest bumps into my arm, and I let out a long breath at the unexpected contact.
“I’d kill to take a lot of things back, Graham.”
I know what she’s referring to. She’s talking about us without saying the actual words out loud. I can’t find it in myself to be mad at her for what she did. Confiding in Coach, telling the truth, was the only way for her to find some sort of peace in the chaos. She was afraid for me. Her reasoning was to protect me, to bring the truth out into the light when I was hell bent on leaving it in the dark. Kennedy said everything I didn’t have the courage to say. I can’t fault her for knowing when enough is enough.
“What you did, telling Coach about my dad, I know why you did it, Ken. I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did, dismissed you as if you were nothing when you were everything. I pushed you into the alligator pit, and you got bit. Nothing I say can make that okay. Nothing can reverse what was done and I’m sorry.”
Over the summer, I’ve imagined what I would say to Kennedy when we finally saw each other again. No words could make any of this better. I’m positive now nothing can. Not even time.
Kennedy jumps up, glares at me, and surprises me by snatching the bottle from my hand and slugging the rest of the tequila. She throws the bottle into the woods and we turn as the glass shatters. She paces in front of me, looking like she could punch someone with the clenched fists hitting her thighs. I’m on her radar.
What the hell is she doing?
“You’re making me dizzy, stomping around in front of me like that,” I bellow in hopes she’ll stop marching back and forth.
Kennedy halts and sneers down at me. “Quit fucking apologizing to me, Graham. I don’t want your pity. What happened to me happened, and there is nothing you or I can do to fix it. It just happened. It wasn’t because you got mad at me for protecting your ass when you couldn’t do it yourself. It happened because he had it out for me for a long time. That much is obvious. Quit taking the blame for every damn thing that has happened in my life,” Kennedy shouts.
“I am to blame,” I whisper under my breath.
She still hears me. She always hears me.
“Enough. I don’t want to hear it anymore. It is what it is, and I’m dealing with it.” She throws her hands up in frustration. “Every damn day, I deal with the fact that when I needed you most, you walked out on me.” Kennedy ghost’s her hand back and forth between us, her voice pleading for me to listen to her. “I loved you, Graham. I loved you more than you could possibly imagine.” She shakes her head back and forth. “Even when I saw you prancing around with Amanda to prove a point you’re still desperate to prove. You are more than what you believe you are, but I can’t convince you.” She leans back and gazes up into the night sky. When she turns back to me, tears fall from her eyes, so raw and punishing, it nearly rips me in two. “It seems no one can, and it’s really too bad because you’re better than this pathetic version of yourself.” Kennedy furiously wipes the tears from her cheeks.
I don’t know how long she stands here leering down at me. There’s a twinge of hope in her eyes beneath the anger. I want to take all the pain in her world away for good, but I can’t. Not now, not after everything. I don’t have it in me anymore to be that guy for her. I lost him, the guy who she looked at with such admiration. He died months ago.
When Kennedy finally walks away, I want nothing more than to stop her, reach out to tell her I’m sorry and I was wrong for leaving her, but I stop myself. I understand what I’m doing is selfish. What no one knows is I’m making the biggest sacrifice. When I say I would give up the one thing that makes sense to me, the one thing that makes my life bearable for her, I mean it. I’d give up baseball, all the scholarship offers, everything, if it makes Kennedy’s heart hurt a little less.
Yes, I can admit I’m being selfish because Kennedy doesn’t want to see me behaving like I used to, but I’m doing it for her. Proving to her I’m not worthy of her shouldn’t be too hard. I’ve done it before, right? Maybe at some point, she’ll walk away and never look in my direction again. At least then, I’ll know she’s safe from the hell and turmoil that comes along with me.
That’s when I’ll be able to breathe a little easier.
Until then, I’ll hold my breath for both of us.
Chapter Three
Kennedy
Leaving a rather drunk Graham in the woods, I head back to the house. I refuse to listen to him blame himself for Craig’s choices. Besides, the stench of tequila rolling off his tongue is disgusting. He’s self-destructive, and I will not watch him tear himself down.
“Where have you been?” Violet shouts the minute I step through the door.
Dan’s arms circle her waist while he whispers God knows what in her ear. From the blush on her porcelain skin, I can only imagine.
The party is going strong. Shouts explode about epic wins at Beer Pong or rather grotesque comments about a girl’s huge rack. Music pulses through the house. A group of freshmen girls dance around the staircase, hoping to catch the attention of horny upperclassmen.
“I thought I saw you walking out to the woods.” Dan intervenes like the annoying big brother role he’s assumed. “Graham’s favorite place on the property,” he whispers.
My eyes widen and I shoot Dan a ‘shut the hell up’ look.
“You went out there alone?” Violet crosses her arms over her chest and taps her foot on the floor. “Are you okay?”
“You don’t need to worry.” I dismiss her concern. “At least not about me. I’m fine. Graham, on the other hand, is probably passed out on an old log.” I slide onto a stool next to her.
“You can’t wander off on your own, Kennedy.” Violet draws me in close.
Tears prickle my eyes at the reality of the situation. I walk
ed out into a dark field, by myself, and for what? I need to remember what Jackie taught me, to be alert and aware of my surroundings. There’s no room for recklessness. Things happen when you become too comfortable.
Dan groans. “I’ll go grab Graham.” As he walks by, he squeezes my shoulder and bends down to whisper in my ear. “He’s a mess. He’s been a wreck since he walked out of the hospital. It’s not your fault, Kennedy, but please remember, he’s hurting, too.”
Mark walks up to us, throwing a friendly smile my way. I answer with a grin and an awkward nod.
I pay no attention to what they’re talking about because Dan’s words run through my head.
He’s a mess. It’s not your fault. He’s hurting, too.
If he’s as miserable as I am, why is he doing this? I know the real Graham, the one who doesn’t feel the pressure to be a certain way. He knows he doesn’t need to sleep around anymore. He doesn’t need to be the guy who collided into me one night. He is capable of being someone worth taking a chance on. I know this because I’ve taken that chance, and I would do it again.
With a drunken Graham hanging on his side, Dan walks through the French doors. I’m pulled from my thoughts as I watch his feet drag the ground behind him. Mark jumps to help haul him up the stairs.
“Is this what it’s been like all summer?” I ask Violet as I point at the three boys.
Graham tries to fight them off, demanding he can walk. When he pushes off Mark’s chest, he stumbles and is quick to grab hold of the helpful, outstretched hands. He’s far from sober enough to get up the stairs without help.
“All summer. The sad part is no one’s willing to talk to him about it. Dan tried, but Graham slammed him into the deck and nearly broke his nose. It wasn’t pretty,” Violet explains. “Ever since then, Dan stays out of it except to help him to a bedroom when he can’t get there himself.” She frowns, and sadness clouds her eyes. “We all know why he’s being this way. Some of the girls have taken advantage of your absence, but most have figured out he’s just trying to forget about you and everything that’s happened.”
