by Kelley York
Things I think I’m starting to know, too. Things I haven’t given a name and I don’t want to. What’s wrong with how everything is right now? Why does anything need to change?
…
Christmas dinner consists of cranberry sauce, honey-glazed ham, mashed potatoes, and salad, all compliments of Rachael. It might be the first time today that she looks happy. Even when she unwrapped the necklace I bought her—complete with her birthstone and name engraved—there was an absence of sincere joy on her face that made me think I completely screwed up in picking the gift. Chance warned me buying jewelry for a girl was a bad idea.
But Rachael is smiling now. Maybe because, for as long as we’re sitting at the dining table, everyone’s comments are focused on how delicious her meal is, and Rachael has always enjoyed being the center of a conversation. She blossoms under the attention. Got to hand it to the girl—she’s a good cook. I’m not too bad a chef myself, but her stuff blows mine right out of the water.
Chance devours his food with hardly a word, and it isn’t until after we’re done and have cleaned up any stray pieces of ribbon and wrapping paper around the house that he announces it’s about time for him to get home.
Immediately, I reach for my keys on the counter. “I’ll drive you.”
“I can walk,” Chance insists, pulling on his coat. “Got this new jacket from Mr. J, and the phone you gave me, so I’m good and safe.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Rachael dries her hands on a dishrag. “Have you looked out the window? The snow is coming down like crazy.”
Chance opens his mouth to protest again, but Dad sets his coffee mug in the sink and gives him a reprimanding look. “You’re not walking home, kid. I got y’all a car to avoid anyone being out in this weather.”
That’s all it takes. Dad might be the only person in existence Chance at least tries to listen to. His mouth snaps shut, and he gives a strained smile as he zips up his jacket. “Sure thing, Mr. J.”
Ash stays behind to help Dad and Isobel with the remaining cleanup while Chance, Rachael, and I pile into the car and crank the heat up. Still haven’t gotten around to buying a new stereo, so we listen to static-y radio stations along the way. Chance is silent in the backseat, staring out the window. It’s times like these I wish I knew what was going on in that head of his. What flurry of thoughts is rattling around in his skull? Chance talks so much, but I always feel like for every word that comes out of his mouth, there are twenty more being kept hidden away under lock and key.
“Stop here,” he says when we reach the edge of the trailer park. I ignore him, because it’s still a bit of a walk to his doorstep and it’s pitch black outside. I park just beside his house, taking note of the face peering out at us from the window. Not Mrs. Harvey, but Chance’s dad. I see just the hard set of his jaw, his steely gaze zeroed right in our direction. The skin along the back of my neck prickles. Then the curtain swings shut, and Mr. Harvey disappears.
A moment later, as Chance is unbuckling, Rachael turns down the volume on the radio with a frown. “Do I hear someone yelling?”
Chance tucks his phone not into a pocket but into the waistband of his jeans. “Thanks for having me over. Great dinner, Rach.” He shoves open his door and there is, most assuredly, yelling emanating from his house. “See you guys later.”
He leaves us in silence, trekking through the snow up to his door where I see him square his shoulders and take a deep breath as though bracing himself before going inside.
I feel sick to my stomach leaving him behind. What if I went to the door and knocked? Asked him to come back with us? To come stay with us? Whatever is happening behind those walls, I have the most urgent sensation that I need to get Chance away from it.
But I don’t know how.
You push Chance, Chance pushes back, and then he runs away.
“Hunter? Are we going?” Rachael asks.
My fingers flex against the steering wheel. Wordless, because I don’t trust my voice, I turn the car around and head home.
Ashlin
Hunter doesn’t so much as say good night when he gets back. In fact, he’s slipped upstairs before I even realize they’re home. Rachael popping into the kitchen to see if I need help with anything is my only clue. I incline my head toward the sound of a door shutting upstairs. “What’s his problem?”
Rachael shrugs. “I don’t know. Something with Chance.”
I set down my new camera instruction manual, frowning. “Did Chance say something?”
“No. We heard Chance’s parents yelling when we dropped him off. Hunter hardly said anything the whole way home.”
Oh. Well, yeah, that’d do it.
I smile wryly and look back down at the camera. “You’re lucky he didn’t jump out of the car and run in there. I’m actually surprised he didn’t.”
Rachael leans against the doorway, crossing her arms, lips pursed. “Why?”
What kind of question is that? “Because it’s the sort of guy Hunter is. He’s protective and…well.” Shrug. “If it were me, Hunter would’ve stormed in there, grabbed me up, and stolen me away.”
“Would he have done that with Chance if I hadn’t been there?”
This is going somewhere, and I really don’t want it to. These questions about Hunter and Chance… I lower the camera and raise my gaze. “If you’re getting at something, then get to it.”
Her jaw tenses. “Okay. I think Chance has a thing for Hunter.”
“All right.”
“And I’m not so sure it’s unrequited.”
A nervous laugh bubbles in my chest, and I fight it back. This isn’t a conversation we should be having. I don’t want to think about it. If Chance has feelings for Hunter, then he doesn’t have feelings for me, and— “Hunter isn’t gay.”
“You don’t have to be gay to like someone of the same sex, Ashlin.”
“Point.” I lace my fingers behind my neck. “Look…Hunter cares about you. He had you come out here for Christmas, to see his house, to meet his family, even though he was really nervous about it. That says a lot. If you don’t trust him…”
Rachael pushes away from the door, shaking her head. Her voice is tight. “It isn’t Hunter I don’t trust.”
I can’t really defend Chance on that one. If there are some sort of feelings there, I don’t trust him not to try something to win Hunter, either. Especially after how sad he looked and sounded that night in my bed. So…defeated. Chance never lets anything keep him down long. It’s only a matter of time before he decides to do something about it—which likely means confronting Hunter.
“Are you two sleeping together?” I ask.
Rachael startles, pulling herself to standing up straight. “What?”
“You’ve been together for months. So I just assumed…” What would I know? I haven’t had the opportunity to ask Hunter, and I’d sort of classified it under the topic of Really Not My Business. But for the sake of this conversation here and now—
“No,” says Rachael.
That was unexpected. “Really?” I raise an eyebrow.
She shifts uncomfortably, voice a touch defensive. “I haven’t exactly…approached him about it. Yet.”
In some weird way, I’m glad for that. I don’t think Hunter knows what the hell he wants with much of anything, and I don’t pretend to fully understand what’s going through his mind, since he won’t talk about it, but I’m glad—at least—he hasn’t done something stupid like sleep with a girl he isn’t 100 percent about.
Which means I have no advice for Rachael. I can’t encourage her to go for it, only to either pressure Hunt into something he doesn’t want or to be rejected by him. So my only reply is another reassurance: “Hunter cares about you.” Because he does. He never would have brought her out here otherwise.
Rachael nods. She tells me good night, then turns to leave. I hear her steps retreating upstairs, and I think maybe I should have said something more to comfort her. Something along the lines of, Hunter isn’t i
nterested in Chance, no way. They’re just friends. But there’s a fine line between being encouraging to Rachael and not wanting to lie to her about things I’m unsure of.
Growing up, Chance and Hunter were closer than I was with either of them. They turned to me for some things, and they never excluded me, but I’m not blind. I’ve always been aware there was something there that brought the two of them together again and again while I was just along for the ride. I used to think it was a guy thing.
And, meanwhile, I was the girl who tagged along and thought that just maybe, one day, Chance would look at me like I was an actual girl. Like I was pretty, like I was interesting and maybe we could have something, just the two of us. He and Hunter shared something special. I wanted that with him, too. Something no one else had.
Now and again, I thought maybe we did. Like how he was my first kiss, or the way he looked at me the day he fished me out of the creek. It never occurred to me to pay attention to the way Chance looked at Hunter to see if their special something was precisely what I was wanting for myself.
I turn my camera back on, flipping through the images I took this morning. I have a single snapshot of Hunt and Chance, grins plastered on their faces, the stupid bow on Chance’s head and another stuck to Hunter’s cheek. They look so happy. Natural. Like this is the proper order of the universe and nothing else should matter.
So where do Rachael and I fit into all this?
Hunter
By the time we got back home, Isobel’s car was gone from the driveway. The kitchen light was still on. I wasn’t much in the mood to stay up and have a conversation with Ash or Dad, so I hung our coats and slinked upstairs without a word. Rachael didn’t follow immediately, and I can only hope tonight will be a night we can both go straight to sleep without any of the awkward cuddling she’s been using to hint that she wants something more.
I have a few minutes of quiet before she shows up, knocking lightly on my door. I had just enough time to get changed and convince myself I’m not driving back over to Chance’s to kidnap him. It takes everything I have not to snap at Rachael to leave me alone. Don’t be a jerk, Hunter. It’s Christmas, and here I am trying to shrug off my girlfriend because—
I run my hands over my face and sit on the bed. “Come in.”
Rachael cracks the door and slips inside. “Sorry. I was saying good night to your sister.” She sinks down beside me. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” My hands drop to my lap. I fall back onto the mattress, casting my gaze to the ceiling of stars. “I’m good. Just…you know.”
“I’m sure Chance is fine. Sounded like his parents were having an argument, is all.” She stretches out on her side next to me, propped up on an elbow. Her fingers brush the hair from my forehead, trace down the side of my face. My jaw has gone tense. She doesn’t know a thing about Chance and his family; how could she make an assumption like that?
Precisely, I tell myself. She doesn’t know because I haven’t told her. I can’t blame her for something she doesn’t know.
“Christmas shouldn’t end on a sour note.” Rachael’s hand continues downward, tickling my throat, collarbone, to my chest. “I was thinking…you know, since it’s Christmas, maybe we could…”
I drop my gaze to Rachael. Given the hints she’s been dropping, the fact that she’s been sleeping in my bed without any invitation from me, I knew this was coming. But what do I do about it? I’ve run in circles inside my own head thinking of ways to say no without upsetting her. None of them have led anywhere.
“We could…?” Play dumb. Brilliant, Hunter. Way to grow a fucking spine.
Rachael narrows her eyes like she suspects I’m being purposely difficult. She sits up a bit straighter, leaning over me. Her dark curtain of hair cascades over her shoulder and, God, she’s so pretty.
“You know what I’m talking about. I know it was my idea to wait in the first place, and I just thought…maybe now is a good time.”
I fold my hands behind my head. “What changed?”
She blinks slowly. “What?”
“What changed between now and the last time when you said you weren’t ready?” Which was…jeez, had to be seven months ago. I tried once, and only once, and Rachael saying it wasn’t the right time for her was all it took for me to back off. I wasn’t about to be one of those guys who make it out to be some big deal. Besides that, a part of me had been almost relieved.
Sighing, Rachael sits up, running her hands through her long hair. “That was ages ago. We’d only been dating a few months. It’s been a year now and… I’ve already told you, Hunter. I love you. I want this thing with us to last for a really long time.”
“And in order for that to happen, we need to have sex?” An amused twitch pulls my lips up into a smile. Wrong move, if the way Rachael’s eyes narrow is any indication.
“If this is funny to you, I can leave.”
“No, no. It’s…” I shove myself back up to sitting with a groan so I can take Rachael’s hands in mine. I’m trying to imagine what Ashlin would coach me to say, because I have no clue. “Babe, I’m really touched. But if you aren’t one hundred percent into it—”
Rachael squeezes my hands. “I am ready, Hunter! I have been. Being away from you all this time made me realize that.” Then her grip loosens. I don’t know what it is she sees in my expression—whether it’s fear or nervousness or the uncertainty I’m battling to keep in check—but whatever it is, it isn’t good, and I have the gut feeling this is a conversation that isn’t going to end well.
Her hands leave mine. “But you aren’t ready at all, are you?”
I’m at a loss. My mouth is open but words aren’t coming out, because there’s nothing I can say. There is no appeasing her this time. Instead, I’m left staring at her like a moron, with no excuses left.
Rachael shakes her head. She stands. “Is there someone else? If there is—”
“There’s no one else. What other girls have you seen me talk to, Rach?”
She levels a narrow glare in my direction but says nothing.
I owe her an explanation, don’t I? Even if it’s hard, I have to figure out the best way to explain to my girlfriend what’s going on in my head. Had she done this four, five months ago, I could have—would have—gone through with it. So…what’s the problem now?
You know what the problem is. Chance, Chance, Chance.
“Okay. You know…you’re right.” I spread my hands, palms up, helpless. “I’m not ready for this. Things have been strained since you got here, and I feel like this is your way of trying to…”
“Trying to what?”
“Trying to…reconnect, I guess.” Sigh. This talking thing is not my strong point. Rachael is good at taking things the wrong way. That’s something that makes Ash and Chance special to me: I can tell them anything, and they can figure me out even if I articulate things about as well as a goldfish.
Rachael uncrosses her arms. Good sign? But then she puts her hands on her hips. Bad sign. “I told you, I was thinking about this before I even came out here. And the only reason things have been strained is because I’ve had to fight just to get a few hours alone with you. Everywhere we go, Chance and Ashlin are right there with us.”
“Because that’s so different from us going out with all your friends or family tagging along back home?” I reply hotly. “In the three months before I left, I can count on one hand the number of times you and I did something alone.”
“You told me you liked my friends and family!”
“What, and you don’t like Ash and Chance?”
She rolls her eyes to the ceiling. “You know I like Ashlin just fine…”
Ah ha. “But you don’t like Chance.”
“It’s not that I don’t like him, he’s just…” Her hands flutter about, a sign she’s getting flustered because now she’s having trouble finding the right words. “He’s so… He’s like a kid, Hunter. Like the kind of boy who wants to pretend to be sixteen forev
er. He’ll be happy living with his parents, working at Lotsa Books for minimum wage, and running around town getting into trouble.”
The more she talks, the less I want to look at her. I stare down at my hands in my lap, tension coiling under my skin and making my neck and shoulders ache. “Don’t talk about Chance like you know him.”
“He’s unpredictable and, frankly, sometimes he makes me nervous. He’s the kind of guy you hear about in the news shooting up his school. Am I wrong?”
My mouth slips into an unpleasant smile. She isn’t wrong, no. Chance is impulsive and childlike, and after realizing his home life was nothing like what he told us, it’s hard to know when what he’s saying to me is true or not. Yet none of that matters. Chance is Chance, and he’s important, and I won’t sit back while Rachael pretends like she knows the inner workings of his mind when even I don’t. “Yeah. You really, really are. Because you don’t have a clue what he’s going through at home right now, or how his father probably beats the hell out of him, or how Dad had to buy him a jacket for Christmas because his own parents didn’t bother. And you have no idea how guilty I’ve been feeling that, all these years, Chance has been going through this completely alone because I was too stupid to see the signs.
“So, sure, maybe he acts like a big kid and he could stand to grow up some, but he has a reason for it. Maybe you could stand to not act like such an uptight old lady once in a while.”
She presses her mouth together thinly. “I thought that’s what I was trying to do just now.”
“And I’m saying it’s not a good time for me, Rachael, okay?” There. That’s what it comes down to, isn’t it? That I don’t want to, and— “When you told me no, I backed off. I said it was cool and didn’t push it. Why is it all right for you to make me feel like crap for saying no? Because that’s a pretty shitty double standard. Girl should only have sex when she’s ready; guy should have sex when girl says so.”
Rachael opens her mouth, but I can see I’ve gotten her. “Hunter, I’m—”
“Don’t apologize.” I shrug, willing myself to look at her even though I don’t want to. “I’m sorry I’ve been…distant or whatever. We’ll spend tomorrow alone if you want. I’ll take you out to lunch and a movie.”
