He gazed down at me for a long time, long enough that I started thinking he’d changed his mind about wanting what I’d just offered. But that wasn’t the case. He lifted himself off me and grabbed hold of my hand, pulling me up alongside him. “Long enough,” he said. And then, still holding hands, we went upstairs to his room, where we locked the door behind us and eased back on the bed.
It was effortless at first. We did all the things we normally did in his family room or in the backseat of his car or in dark, empty rooms at parties. Only this time we were alone in his bed with no chance of anyone walking in, and instead of stopping before the point of no return, we crossed it and kept on going.
There was pain, but it was the kind of pain I could handle, because I knew it only happened that first time.
And afterwards, as he stroked my hair and told me he loved me, it occurred to me for the first time that sex, for some people, is the ultimate act of trust. You’re completely vulnerable in the moment, both body and emotions exposed as you give your whole self to another person. With anyone else I would have been terrified, probably even regretful later on. But lying there with Michael, I couldn’t remember why I had ever been so afraid.
Chapter 18
In the middle of March we had a week off school, and Emma and I were scheduled to spend it at our dad’s. When Mom dropped us off on Friday evening, we found our father surrounded by a disaster in the kitchen, Leo standing by with a hungry, hopeful look in his eyes. Dad cooking on anything besides an outdoor grill was a sight to behold. It was as if he didn’t quite understand how an indoor, electric stove worked. It was a good bet that if you caught a whiff of burning food, Dad was the one in the kitchen.
Tonight he’d made scorched chicken and vegetable stir-fry, with overdone rice. We ate at the kitchen table with Leo watching us pitifully from the entrance of the laundry room. As usual, Emma and Jamie liked to take advantage of Dad’s tolerant nature by acting barbaric at the table. Tonight they held a contest to see who could build a bigger mountain out of rice. Jamie won because he had saved a broccoli spear to stick in the top of his mountain, like a lone tree. I made grossed-out faces at them as Dad rambled on about his latest plan to install a hot tub out on the deck in late spring. When Emma started petitioning for a pool to go with the hot tub, I got up to take a stab at the catastrophic mess.
After hosing down the kitchen, I showered and then called Michael to make sure he was still coming over later. Both Dad and Michael’s parents had been really cracking down on the parental supervision lately. This drove us mad, but at least it kept my father off my case. He still had some reservations about letting me see Michael behind my mother’s back, and I knew it made him feel more secure to have us under his semi-watchful eye.
When Michael arrived later, we went up to my room. Dad’s golden rule when Michael and I were alone in my bedroom was all but written in stone: lights on and door open at all times. I resented this lack of privacy but obeyed the rule without complaint, knowing I shouldn’t push my luck. So Michael and I sat on my bed and talked, all the while repressing the urge to shut the door, turn off the lights, and attack each other. Every so often we’d get interrupted by my father, who would casually stop by under the guise of needing to ask me a stupid question (“Taylor, have you seen the can opener?”), but it was glaringly obvious he was really checking to make sure we weren’t horizontal.
We leaned in for stolen kisses, half-listening for my dad the entire time. Luckily he was as loud as he was predictable, with a booming voice that echoed throughout the entire house and a gait that rivaled a stampede of elephants.
“Another cookie!” he said now, his words clearly detectable through the ceiling and walls. “Bottomless pits, the two of you. And what do you want?” At this last question, the dog barked expectantly.
I pulled away from Michael and sighed. This house was a zoo.
Finally, after the kids and dog were in bed and the house was quiet, Michael and I escaped our prison without bars and headed downstairs to pretend to watch TV.
“Lynn will be home in half an hour,” Dad reminded us before he retired to his bedroom for his usual ten-thirty bedtime. “And my door will be open.”
I buried my face in a pillow. “Dad.”
He kept talking, oblivious to my humiliation. “I’m a very light sleeper.”
“Good night, Dad,” I said through gritted teeth.
When he finally left us alone, Michael started laughing. I whacked him with my pillow.
“Your father’s really subtle, isn’t he?” he said, dodging the next smack.
“I swear, it’s his life mission to embarrass me. I’m glad you get such a kick out of him.”
He tugged the pillow weapon out of my hands and flung it toward the other end of the couch, out of my reach. “I can’t help it. I think it’s funny when he says whatever pops into his head.”
“Yeah, he’s hilarious. Wanna trade?” As his smile faded, I realized the stupidity of that remark. I had no right to complain about my warm, loving father, and I knew it. “Sorry,” I said quickly. “That was dumb.”
His smile returned, but with half the wattage as before. “It’s okay. I guess I’m a little sensitive on the father topic tonight. Mine’s been on me a lot lately.”
I rested my chin on the edge of his shoulder. “College?”
“Mostly.”
“He’s still pressuring you about Avery? Did you tell him you’re considering Kinsley now?” Because of me, I added in my head. He’d applied to the local university along with Avery, but he hadn’t thought about actually going there (and sticking close to home and me) until a few weeks ago.
“He knows.” His jaw muscles did their stress-induced twitching thing. “Anyway, September is five months away. Let’s not talk about this now.”
I knew him well enough by now to distinguish certain facial expressions and verbal tones, and right now both his face and voice were screaming “There’s something I’m not telling you and don’t want to tell you, so please drop it.” I recognized this because I heard it every time I brought up college and where he planned to go. But I could never figure out what it meant, until right this moment. Slowly, I pulled away from him.
“You’re going to Avery, aren’t you?” I said, and he averted his eyes, giving me my answer. “It doesn’t matter if you want to go to Kinsley or not. You’re going to Avery anyway.”
His jaw twitched again, even harder this time, as if he were grinding his molars into dust. “I don’t know. Honestly. In some ways I do want to stay here. Be with you. And sometimes, when my father’s on my back and my mom is worrying herself sick over Josh, there’s nothing I want more than to get the hell away from here. My dad wants me gone. He’d never agree to Kinsley. Never.”
“So why don’t you stand up to your dad for once? Why are you letting him make all your decisions? You really have to stop letting people walk all over you.”
I instantly regretted my words when Michael stiffened beside me. I knew this was a sensitive topic for him, but the ache of knowing he was leaving in September had gone to my head and I couldn’t hold it back any longer. Since we’d started sleeping together, any feelings I had toward him, be it love or anger or jealousy, had only intensified. Along with trust came all these other new emotions, some of which turned me into a freaking lunatic.
“You don’t understand,” he said in a steely voice. “Your father isn’t a bully who tries to mold his kids into younger versions of him. When it comes to my father, I feel like I have no choices. No control. And I hate it. Maybe I am a doormat, but you don’t know what it’s like to live under that kind of pressure.”
He’d never spoken to me like that before, so harsh and impatient. But he was right. I had no idea what it was like to have a father who was so powerful, so downright ruthless in his expectations. It must have been hard to break free of that kind of authority.
“Besides,” Michael went on, a little calmer now, “what about your mom?�
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I knew what he was implying, and I also knew I deserved to hear it. “What about her?”
“She doesn’t even know about us. It’s been months, and you haven’t told her. I don’t see you standing up to her. She’s deciding your life for you too, isn’t she? If you’re so sure about me, then why don’t you tell her about us and demand she accept it? It’s not so easy, is it?”
The words erupted from his mouth as if he’d been rehearsing them in his head for months and had been waiting for precisely this moment to voice them. My objections quickly dissolved on my tongue because again, he was correct. I had no right to chastise him when I was no better myself.
“I’m going to tell her,” I said, meaning it. That confrontation was long overdue.
“When?”
“Soon.” I touched his shoulder; it felt like marble under my palm. “You’re totally right,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
He let out a breath and leaned back against the couch. “Your mom can’t force you not to see me.”
“And your dad can’t force you to go away.”
He shook his head slightly, as if to say of course he can. No matter what, Michael would never stop trying to please him. He would never stop trying to make up for his brother’s failures. Which meant that come fall, he’d be leaving home for Avery. Leaving me.
****
The next night, R.J. had a few people over to his house to play pool. Michael and I kept losing, so after a couple of hours we retired to the other end of the basement, where several other couples had gathered. I sat on Michael’s lap in the recliner and we joined in on a conversation about nothing in particular. I was perfectly relaxed until I noticed Elena Brewster descending the stairs, her clique of minions in tow. They headed straight for the pool table area, ignoring us, and an uneasy prickle started up my spine like it always did when she was near. Except it felt even more pronounced tonight. A weird heaviness hung in the air, an energy, like something big was about to happen.
Or something bad.
When the conversation died down, I went to use the washroom. By the time I did my business and got out of there, five minutes had passed, and I knew how much could happen in the span of five minutes. Before I even reached the threshold of the living room area of the basement, I had a gut feeling that a certain evil blond goddess had swooped in during my absence. It was as if she had an inner radar that pinged whenever Michael was left unguarded for longer than a minute. She’d sense the sudden susceptibility and then pounce.
Sure enough, she was right there next to him, leaning on the arm of the chair I had left him in a few minutes earlier. My first instinct was to storm over there and rip her pretty hair out by the roots, but I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of making me look like an insecure nutcase. Instead, I settled on the couch on the other side of the room with Kayla and Ethan’s girlfriend, Jenna. They were talking about prom dresses and I joined in, while at the same time keeping Elena in my line of sight. At one point she caught my eye, her lips curling into a triumphant smirk that said See? I can get him away from you whenever I want.
Michael was being his usual polite self, chatting with her, but I could see the relief on his face a few minutes later when R.J. and Ethan and a couple of other guys lured him away for a game of pool. Elena pouted and touched his bicep in farewell before joining her friends by the bar. She whispered something to one of them, who in turn nodded sympathetically. Then they both glared at me with expressions full of smug accusation, as if they knew something I didn’t.
“Is she bugging you?” Kayla asked, probably feeling the heat from the lasers Elena was shooting in our direction.
“Nope,” I said.
She could tell I was lying. “Ignore her.”
“She’s just trying to provoke you,” Jenna chimed in on my other side. “Don’t give her the satisfaction.”
“Elena thinks she should be able to have any guy she wants,” Kayla said. “I swear, if she ever flirted with R.J. the way she flirts with Michael, I’d have a hard time ignoring her too.” She propped her feet up on the littered coffee table in front of us. “It’s pathetic, really, the way she’s still hung up on him. It’s not like they ever really dated. It was just a one night thing with them, wasn’t it?”
Jenna nodded. “Yeah, like, months ago.”
One night thing, I repeated in my head. Perhaps I had heard wrong. “What?” I said, frowning. They both looked at me, their faces identical expressions of horror as they realized they’d just spilled something that was meant to stay contained. Kayla bit her lower lip and glanced quickly at Jenna, who shook her head almost imperceptibly.
All the sights and sounds around me fell away and I found myself halfway across the room before I even realized I’d moved. Three more strides and I was standing directly in front of Elena, slapping a bottle of beer out of her hand. It hit the hardwood floor with a clink, showering everyone within a six foot radius with cold, frothy liquid. Surprised, Elena let out a little shriek and jumped back, trampling on her friend’s feet.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she yelled, shaking beer off her arm and glaring at me.
“Don’t ever fucking look at me again,” I said in a low, firm voice. “And keep your hands off my boyfriend.”
Color rose in her pale cheeks and her mouth dropped open, then closed, then open again. “Psycho,” she sputtered, and I was pretty sure I would have pushed her next if Kayla hadn’t come up behind me.
“Taylor, come on,” she said, grabbing my arm and easing me back. I let her, even though this long-overdue confrontation still felt unfinished. As I was being towed across the room, safely away from Elena, I noticed for the first time that people were staring. And that my jeans were splattered with beer.
“I’m sorry, Taylor,” Kayla said, still holding my arm in case I had second thoughts about bloodshed. “I didn’t know.”
“That makes two of us,” I muttered as Michael appeared on my other side, his face etched with concern. The bar area wasn’t visible from where the pool table was stationed, so he hadn’t seen what just happened. I was sure he’d heard it, though. Or he would tomorrow.
“What’s going on?” he asked, taking in both my murderous expression and R.J.’s position, crouched on the floor with a wad of paper towels, making my mess disappear.
Extricating myself from Kayla’s grasp, I said, “Can we just go?”
Michael didn’t argue. We went upstairs, put on our jackets, and left the house without exchanging a single word. I was glad to get outside. The freezing winter air cooled my face and made me feel a little better. More in control.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Michael said on the way to his car.
I mumbled something about Elena pissing me off and that tonight had been the last straw. He knew I disliked her and that her obvious interest in him bothered me. It was only a matter of time before I said something to her. What I didn’t tell him—couldn’t tell him—was that I’d been provoked by what Kayla and Jenna had let slip. I kept that information beyond reach, until I felt rational enough to deal with it.
We were both quiet during the drive home. Michael, seeing that I was clearly upset, kept trying to comfort me. He laid a hand on my knee, squeezing it every so often as we drove through the quiet streets. And then, once we were parked in my dad’s driveway, he turned to me and asked me if I was all right. And instead of saying no, instead of trusting him with the truth, I lied.
“I’m fine. Just really tired.”
“Oh,” he said, believing me right away because, well, I’d never lied to him before. “You should go get some sleep then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I said, doubting I’d manage sleep tonight. Every time I closed my eyes I’d see him with Elena Brewster, doing whatever I imagined they had done during their one night thing thing.
He leaned over to kiss me, and I even kissed him back. A hungry kiss, as if this was the last time we’d be seeing each other for
a long, long while. As if I were memorizing his lips, his scent, the silky feel of his hair under my fingers, things I now knew Elena Brewster had experienced too. No wonder this girl hated me so much. No wonder she thought she still held some kind of claim to Michael. No wonder he avoided her like the plague whenever I was around. No wonder I always felt so threatened by her—I had reason to be.
“Good night,” Michael said when I finally pulled away. His knuckles skimmed across my jaw, so soft and loving, and all of a sudden I wanted to confront him too, pound my fists on his chest and demand to know why…why didn’t he ever tell me about this “thing” with Elena, why did he say he didn’t like her when he so obviously did at one time, why did he lie when he said he’d never hurt me? Why?
But I didn’t say a word.
Somehow, I managed to get out of the car, into the house, and up the stairs without crying. But there, in the safety of my room, I let go until there was nothing left in me.
Chapter 19
When I woke up the next morning, the events of last night felt almost surreal. More than a little part of me was horrified by my actions, and not just last night’s actions either. What had come over me lately? Throwing dishes, lying, sneaking around, borderline assaulting a girl? All over Michael. How could simply loving someone incite such blinding rage in me? What else was I capable of? I was beginning to wonder if it was even worth it, this caring thing.
Elena was right—I was psycho.
Thankfully, I had the entire week off school and could hide my face in shame if I wanted to. And that’s exactly what I wanted to do—hide.
Hiding at Dad and Lynn’s house wasn’t difficult. The universities had had their break in February, so Dad worked all week. Lynn was on day shift for three days straight, and Leanne had gone skiing with a friend’s family until Thursday (which surprised me, as I couldn’t picture Leanne wearing skis any more than I could picture her wearing, say, a clown suit). I did have Emma and Jamie to deal with, but they mostly hung out with each other and left me alone. All I had to do, really, was feed them lunch and periodically check on them to make sure they were still breathing as they squandered away endless hours in front of the TV, playing video games.
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