When Our Worlds Fall Apart

by Lindsey Iler

  “What was that for, Kennedy?”

  “Honestly? You make me laugh, and sometimes it’s hard to find a reason to,” I answer. “You make me laugh.” My eyes fill with happy tears as if laughter is worth every drop of gold in the world.

  “You want a good laugh? You should see me dance. Now that’s funny.” He shakes his hips in the booth.

  “You know what they say...” I tease.

  “No, Kennedy, what do they say?” Mark interrupts. His hands latch onto the edge of the table as he leans forward. “Are you blushing?” Mark tilts his head to inspect me.

  My hands fly to my cheeks to hide the heat creeping onto them. “I’m not blushing,” I lie.

  “Now you have to say it,” Mark demands.

  “They say if you’re a good dancer, then you’re good in bed,” I reveal, feeling the heat deepen under my skin.

  “Is Graham a good dancer?” Mark barks.

  With gritted teeth, I stretch my neck to ease the stress small comments like that cause. Mark can be easy going most days, but then as if a light switch flips, he becomes aggressively jealous of my history with Graham.

  “Don’t do that, Mark. It’s not fair to me, and it’s not fair to you.”

  “Sometimes...” he begins to explain, but I draw my hand up to stop his words.

  “I’m here with you, not him.”

  Mark drinks me in as his head bobs up and down in the slightest of motions. I fidget under his scrutiny. As he scoots out from his side of the booth and slides into mine, I make room for him. My breath hitches when he runs his fingers through the hair above my ear. Anticipation is written all over his face. I’m not surprised when his lips engulf mine in his desire.

  The kiss starts slow, but an electric current runs through us as the embrace deepens. His tongue begs for entrance along the seam of my lips. My fingers track up his hand and arm to rest on his chest. As he moves in closer, I trace a path to his hip. His abs constrict under my touch, egging me on. Taking a chance, I delve under the hem of his shirt. He hisses when I make contact with the bare skin above his hip.

  With reluctance, I pull away, but Mark draws me back for another kiss.

  “My dancing may be shit, baby, but I can promise you’ll have no complaints between the sheets.”

  I lean back, my eyebrow raised in question. “Who said I was going to sleep with you?”

  “Your hand.” Our gazes drop to my hand planted comfortably beneath his shirt. “I know you can feel it, this desire you’re afraid of.”

  His lips return with an easiness that causes a thrill to shoot through my veins and straight to the most sensitive part of my body. He’s right. This desire swirling in me should have been locked away last year.

  After the waitress drops off our food, Mark places my hand high on his thigh. I don’t fight or move it to a safer distance. I feel alive when we touch. With him, I’m not an object to possess, but a girl to be respected.

  As he pays the bill, I twist towards him. “Do you want to come back to my house and watch a movie?”

  Mark’s smile widens, matching my own. “I don’t want to say goodbye either.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Graham

  I turn in the passenger seat to look at my mom. “Why are we driving into Nashville anyway? We going to see Grandpa?”

  “Would you like to see your grandfather?” she asks, throwing me a sidelong glance.

  “You’re joking, right?” I scoff and raise an eyebrow. “I don’t want to see the jackass who likes to pretend his son is a saint.”

  “Your grandfather and dad just have a different way of seeing family.” She shakes her head because she knows that’s a line of bullshit.

  Arguing our side of the spectrum will do me no good. She’s loyal to my father to a fault, and there’s no reason to try to explain why he’s a colossal mistake to hold onto. All she ever says is “because of him, I have you.” It’s an admiral way of looking at the situation, but I’d like to believe my greatness would’ve popped up elsewhere.

  “Your dad...” she begins.

  The anger I have towards that man boils over. “Father. That man is only my father, and even that’s being generous.”

  “I know that, to you, he’s only your sperm donor, but...”

  “Please, don’t say sperm, Mom.” I bang my head against the glass, hoping by some miracle I’ll fall through.

  She chuckles. It’s the first time in a long time I’ve heard her true laugh.

  “I’ve had sex before, Graham.”

  I turn towards her with wide eyes. “Mom, seriously, it’s not funny.”

  “You should see the look on your face, baby. How do you think you got here?” She releases the steering wheel to hold up her hands, then grabs the wheel to stay in her lane.

  “Stork? Messenger pigeon? Adoption?” I rattle off in hopes one will be true.

  She’s still laughing as we pull into a spot outside my favorite restaurant. When we were in elementary school, I first came here for Mark’s birthday with his family. It has the best ribs. By the number of cars in the lot, it’s obvious everyone in Nashville has the same idea as my mom.

  “Why don’t we just go somewhere else? It’s packed, Mom.” I point at the front of the building.

  “I’ve been dreaming about eating ribs for the past couple of days. Humor your mother, even if we have to wait forty-five minutes,” she argues with a sweet smile only she’s capable of giving.

  I can’t say no to that. I open the passenger door and slide out.

  As we walk through the parking lot, she links her arm through mine and leans her head on my bicep. She feels frail next to me. I wonder if she’s always been this weak or if he does this to her. She shivers, so I wrap an arm around her until we walk in the front entrance.

  “You’re a good boy,” she whispers.

  Her words only bring more guilt, because I’ve done nothing to earn them. Nights when I’m getting drunk and fucking some random girl, her bruise count triples because she’s alone with him. I’m not a good boy, but because the thought of her believing anything different hurts too much, I smile at her.

  “We’ll take you to your seat.” The hostess gestures for us to follow her.

  “That was quick,” I whisper, confused with how fast we are getting a seat.

  “I paid her fifty bucks to let us skip the line.” She laughs.

  She’s where I get my demanding personality. It’s not a bad trait to inherit, but I can’t help the loud laugh escaping my mouth.

  “I can take your drink order,” the young hostess says to me. Her eyes land on my chest, lingering longer than necessary.

  “I’ll have water,” I answer, flashing a suggestive smirk. A blush creeps onto her cheeks, so I inch closer and her eyes widen when I wink.

  If I said that ever got old, I’d be a liar. It’s strange to know the effect I have on people. They tend to stammer and stumble over words, but mostly they have ‘please fuck me’ eyes. Girls are easy creatures and I figured that out early in life. They’re just as horny as we guys are, but they go about in a whole different way. Where guys tend to be brash and open about their sexuality, girls are more delicate. They like to sugar coat with handholding and sweet glances until they can’t take it anymore and practically explode at the first brush of a finger.

  “I’ll take sweet tea,” my mom says, breaking the poor girl from the sexual stare off she started.

  The hostess drops her gaze in embarrassment and scurries to the kitchen.

  “That’s one thing you got from your father.” Mom shakes her head in disgust, or maybe pride.

  My eyebrow raises. “What’s that?” I ask.

  “You’re a natural-born charmer. That girl would have laid down on this table in front of your mother to get in your pants,” she jokes.

  “Quit talking about sex and me at the same time. Quit talking about sex, in general,” I demand.

  “Fair enough. How’s school going?”

 
; “It’s school. I’m just getting ready for baseball tryouts.” I smile at the thought of being on the mound. Something about competing for a win makes my blood rush.

  “Have you thought about college, Graham?”

  “There’s always Georgia.” I smile at the hostess as she drops off our drinks.

  “What about Maryland? I saw the pamphlet on your desk, or maybe UConn.”

  She’s on to me. I can’t hide much from her.

  “I was dancing around the idea of going north. Just an idea, but I don’t think it’ll play out,” I admit with a shake of my head.

  “Maryland’s close to New York, right?” she asks with a slight smile. “So is UConn.”

  My mom doesn’t know much about Kennedy, but she does know Kennedy plans to go to New York to college.

  “They are.” The minute the whisper releases from my lips, I hear her.

  A laugh like hers is hard to forget. My shoulders tense as my eyes scan the surroundings. Mom catches my glance as it shifts around the room. I don’t see Kennedy, but her laugh echoes in my ears.

  “You okay?” Mom lifts a worried brow.

  “Just heard a ghost,” I say under my breath.

  “What?” she asks, confusion written all over her face.

  “Nothing,” I offer.

  Our actual waitress, not the eager hostess, comes to take our order. Mom chooses the ribs and I follow her lead. When the food is brought to our table, we eat in silence. Kennedy’s soft voice flutters in the background every few minutes, but I try to ignore it. Conversations about baseball and my mom’s charity events don’t do their job, and my eyes keep scanning the room in search of her.

  As Mom pays the bill, I run to the restroom before we hit the road home. When I turn the corner, I hear Kennedy’s laugh again. I walk out of the small nook outside the bathrooms and see her and Mark in a booth. I don’t know what comes over me. My heart twinges in my chest as I take a seat at a table hidden enough to keep my presence unknown.

  I watch them from afar. Kennedy’s head tilts back with laughter, a laugh I thought only I was capable of causing. They embrace, and when his lips meet hers, my stomach lurches in protest.

  I don’t know what to do. The old Graham might have sauntered over, made everyone feel uncomfortable, and demand Mark keep his hands off her. Even if I did play out the fantasy, I doubt it will do me any good.

  It nearly kills me to see Kennedy slide her fingers down his arm and onto his stomach. Her hand disappears when it tucks under the fabric of his shirt. To see someone I love with someone else is impossible and the worst kind of torture. I don’t know why I’ve sat here for as long as I have, but I can’t look away. Her laugh is contagious, and to see her let go and be carefree isn’t something I want to miss, even if I’m not the one beside her.

  All I’ve ever wanted for Kennedy is to be happy. I stand and head for the exit. When I jump in the passenger seat, my mom's eyes zero in on me.

  “What?” I snap.

  “What took you so long?” she asks.

  “There was a line,” I lie and turn my head to the window.

  “I’m your mother. Don’t lie to me.” Her eyes drift over to me then return to the road. “I saw the way you reacted when you heard Kennedy’s laugh.”

  I look at her in question. How does she know Kennedy’s laugh?

  “I met her once, but once was enough to remember the way she laughed with you. It’s hard to forget something as sweet as that.”

  “She’s with Mark,” I whisper, ashamed that the girl I love is with someone else.

  “And you didn’t know she’d be out with him?” She reaches up to turn the volume down.

  “No, I knew she’d be with Mark. I just wasn’t ready to see them together like that. I’ve seen them at school and at parties, but when I’m around, they try to keep their distance from each other. When I’m not there, it’s different.” I run my hand down my face in frustration.

  “Do you love the girl?” she whispers.

  The question hits me like a ton of bricks.

  “Of course I love her, or else I wouldn’t have done what I did,” I answer honestly, maybe for the first time.

  “And what exactly did you do?”

  “I walked away from her. I caused that girl a hell storm of pain last year, Mom, and after Craig’s attack, it just made sense to allow her to live a life without me,” I state.

  “Does she love you?” my mom asks as if it’s the easiest question to answer.

  When I see her happy, wrapped in a world consumed by Mark, I doubt every feeling we both ever had. Tonight, I saw Kennedy look at Mark the way she once looked at me.

  “I don’t know how she could love me,” I answer with my worst fear.

  “Maybe you should start with reasons for how she couldn’t. It’s a much shorter list, I can guarantee you.” She reaches over to squeeze my hand. “You’re more than you think you are, Graham Black, and one day a girl’s going to realize that. Maybe it will be Kennedy, maybe it will be someone new, but no matter who it is, they’ll know just how damn lucky they are to be in this world beside you.”

  The rest of the drive home is silent. Mom turns the stereo up to a dull whisper, but loud enough for her to hear. My head rests on the window as my mind goes in and out with reasons for why this year has gone the way it has.

  One thing I know to be true is Kennedy isn’t someone you should ever want to let go of, but sometimes life gets in the way and it’s not possible to hold on any longer. Some things are out of our control, and Kennedy is one of those things for me. She barreled into my life without any notice, and before I had a chance to savor her, she was gone.

  And I have to live with the part I played in pushing her away.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Kennedy

  Violet leans against the locker next to mine. “I feel like I didn’t see you all winter break,” she whines, digging in her purse.

  “I know. I know.” I press my back against the wall. “It’s been a crazy couple of weeks.” I shake my head at the memories.

  Violet’s smile falters. “Have you seen him yet, Kennedy?”

  “Who?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.

  “Who do you think?” Violet pushes off the locker and stares me down. “Graham. Have you seen Graham?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “I guess I just thought after the way you talked New Year’s Eve and the way you guys watched each other at midnight...” Violet rambles, playing with the ends of her hair. “It’s like one of those moments you only read in books. Two star-crossed lovers who can’t be together because of some tragic event, only to watch each other from afar.” Violet stares into the open space above her head like she’s in a daydream.

  “Good thing you’re taking drama this semester.” I giggle at her theatrics. “I thought you hated him after everything, anyway? Weren’t you the one who said, and I quote, ‘His pansy ass better stay the fuck away from you?’”

  She nods her head in agreement. “Yes, I did, but I can’t hate someone who loves you that much, sweet cheeks.”

  “Loved!” I correct her.

  “No, I said it right the first time.” Violet smirks.

  Something catches her attention, and I follow her gaze. With his hair still wet and those perfect worn-in blue jeans hugging his legs, Mark walks down the hall. His navy blue t-shirt fits tight over his chest, accentuating his perfect body. He stops when our eyes meet. Everyone moves around him for the brief seconds he just stares at me. Groups of girls gawk from the sidelines, but nothing breaks his concentration.

  “You two are almost as bad as you and Graham were,” Violet states as she rolls her eyes. “I’ll leave you two be.” Violet walks past Mark and slaps him on the shoulder.

  Mark pulls me into his arms as soon as he steps in front of me. “Hey, beautiful,” he sighs. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

  “Am I now?” I wrap my arms around his waist.

  “I�
��ve missed you.” With his breath in my hair, I hold on tighter.

  “Mark, I just saw you two days ago. Remember that little date we had?” I laugh.

  He twirls us around playfully. He lays his lips against my head, but never fully kisses me. “I know, but we spent every day together during break.”

  “I think you’ll survive.” I pat him on the back.

  Mark’s muscles tighten under my fingers.

  Graham’s close by.

  Turning around would only make it harder for us both. Mark’s been making small comments about Graham’s and my history. His little jabs are noticeable and I hear them loud and clear.

  Mark releases me. With my head facing the locker, I take special care to avoid either side of the hallway. I know he’ll be there. He’s always there.

  “I’ll see you at lunch, then?” Mark offers, snapping himself back to his usual carefree self.

  “Yeah, I’ll see you,” I whisper, nodding my head. Mark leans over and kisses me on the forehead.

  As I hoist my purse over my shoulder, I drop my books. A familiar set of strong hands snatch them up before I can. My gaze lingers on his shoes, and with slow accuracy, scan up his toned legs. His gym shorts sit low on his hips, exposing his perfectly sculpted calves. Above, a plain black t-shirt meets my eye. I haven’t been this close to him in months. My breath catches at his intrusive stare. If we keep this up, nothing good will come of it.

  “We need to quit meeting like this.” Graham grins.

  His laughter makes my frown break out into a full-blown smile. Seeing Graham’s smile is enough to take my breath away.

  “Yeah, we do.” I reach for my books. He hands them over then rubs the back of his neck.

  “Kennedy, can I say something?” Graham leans down to grab my attention.

  When our eyes lock, my heartbeat becomes erratic. A heaviness settles in my chest, begging for relief.

  “No one’s stopping you.” I kick at the ground for a distraction.

  “I’m letting you go,” he spits. He tries to play it cool, but apprehension peeks out from behind the honey walls of his eyes.