Instead of You

by Anie Michaels

  “I’ve thought about you every single day for years, Kenz.”

  Suddenly, a strong wave of relief rushed through me. I moved into him, pressing my cheek against his chest, loving the way his arms naturally wound around me, holding me close to him. I listened to his heartbeat, felt the warmth from his body against my face.

  After a few minutes of just feeling him against me, I said something I knew needed to be addressed.

  “We can’t tell anyone,” I whispered. “No one would understand, Hayes. It would hurt so many people.” And that hurt me. We were just hours into this—whatever this was—and I already knew it was different than what I had with Cory. I’d never felt anything close to this with him. And knowing that something that felt so wonderful to me would hurt and confuse those closest to us left a dark cloud over everything.

  “I know,” he said softly, sounding despondent, just before pressing his lips to the top of my head. “You should probably go back inside. It’s getting late.”

  I knew he was right, knew it was better to be inside instead of standing on my porch hugging him, but his words just brought fears I wasn’t prepared for. What if we went our separate ways that night and then everything went back to the way it was the next day? What if this one night was some sort of fluke, and tomorrow we were forced back to the old Hayes and McKenzie? I didn’t want to go back; didn’t want to lose whatever connection we’d forged in the rain that night. I wanted him to know, for whatever it was worth, how much I wanted us to continue, risks and obstacles be damned.

  Taking no time to worry about his response, I lifted onto my toes, reached up, and kissed him. Whatever I couldn’t say, whatever feelings were too powerful to give words to, I put them into that kiss. I showed him my fears, my worries, but most of all, I showed him what I wanted.

  I wanted him.

  He answered my kiss with one of his own.

  Finally, he pulled away again and I had to fight the urge to groan, already missing his mouth against mine.

  “You need to go inside now.” His voice was raspy, nearly a growl, and hearing it made everything inside me seize and then sputter back to life, but I nodded, agreeing.

  “Just promise me you won’t forget about me tomorrow.” I hadn’t meant to sound like a needy, immature girl, but I desperately needed the reassurance.

  His eyes met mine again, this time both his hands cradling my face. “I couldn’t if I tried.”

  “Okay,” I whispered. He gave me one last small peck on the lips, then took a small step back, but he might as well have put a canyon between us for how far away he felt.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I turned away from him and walked back in my house, making sure I turned the dead bolt behind me. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, and then continued to my bedroom, hoping the next day would bring a little more clarity and a little less uncertainty.

  Chapter Eleven

  McKenzie

  The following days did nothing to quiet the uneasiness I felt about my situation with Hayes.

  School was torture.

  I spent the entire day peeking over my shoulder, looking down hallways, basically being paranoid and searching for his face in a crowd. I never saw him outside of class, which made sense; he wasn’t a student so he wouldn’t be traipsing through the halls between periods. But it almost felt as though he weren’t real. That what had happened between us was simply a figment of my overactive and sadistic imagination.

  Sitting in his class, however, was surprisingly easier than I had anticipated.

  Because I got to look at him.

  And I not only got to look at him, but I was able to see him.

  I thought I knew Hayes, and in a big way, I did. But I hadn’t met that Hayes yet. I hadn’t been introduced to the guy who was passionate about history, of all things. Or the person who could make witty comments and entice laughter from a room full of sullen teenagers. I never knew the man who could engage a room full of students and make them excited about a world war or learning about it in a way that was more than just dates, names, and events. He wasn’t just teaching history; he was telling us a story.

  But he was also beautiful.

  So I let him teach and I tried to pay attention—really, I did—but a lot of the time I was just caught up in all the new things I was learning about him and memorizing all the things about him that made him Hayes. He also made this very easy because not once since he’d started had he looked at me. I had my suspicions about why that was and figured he thought it was too risky for him to be looking at me at all. So it was easy to stare and get lost in him since he was never looking my way.

  I wasn’t dumb, and I wasn’t ignorant to the situation. I knew that if anyone found out about what had happened between us, the only one who would suffer would be Hayes. So when I sat in his class every day, my body weirdly aching for him to just glance in my direction, I knew why he didn’t and I was completely okay with it.

  Well, for the most part.

  I was having a grand old time taking him in, watching the way his body moved and stretched the shirt trying to contain his muscled arms, or how when he turned around his hair was so neatly pulled back into a bundle at the base of his neck, making his shoulders look fantastic. But I also wasn’t the only one noticing how beautiful he was.

  When he did turn his back to the class, I watched as all the girls looked around at each other, raising their eyebrows, their mouths forming tiny Os, their cheeks pinkening. Then the giggling started and my heartbeat pounded in my veins.

  I’d never been jealous before, never had a reason to be. Every single person in our school had known Cory and I were together and no one ever tested that. But nobody could have suspected that Mr. Wallace was involved with anyone, especially not the girl in the third row who was supposedly mourning his younger brother.

  I couldn’t blame the girls in my class for being attracted to him, but I could blame them for pulling me aside in the hallways and asking me personal questions about him. I would dare anyone to blame me for lying to them.

  He has a serious girlfriend back at college.

  They live together.

  He’s gay.

  I told them anything I could think of to get them to stop staring at him with giant pulsing cartoon hearts in their eyes.

  Halfway through class on Thursday, I watched as Mr. White stood and left the room quietly, trying not to disturb Hayes’s instruction. My gaze flitted to Hayes’s and finally, I caught his eye. It was just a millisecond, a tiny moment, but I could see the relief flood through him. I thought it had to be stressful for him to have Mr. White and me in class at the same time, worried he would somehow slip up and give away the truth.

  I gave him a small smile, trying to convey understanding, that I felt the relief too.

  When class was over, my heart leapt as he spoke my name. “Miss Harris, could you stay behind a moment?”

  I stilled, waiting for the other students to give me shocked glances or disapproving looks, but none came my way. I slowly packed up my belongings and as the last students left the room, I made my way to the front of the classroom.

  “Hey,” he said, smiling an unrestrained smile I hadn’t seen in days.

  “Hi,” I answered, smile equally as broad, even though I made myself stop a few feet from him, keeping an appropriate distance between us. “How are you?” Every part of me ached to go to him, even if it was just to lay a hand on his arm. I wanted to feel him, to remind myself that our connection was real.

  His smile faded at my question. “Last night was rough for my mom.” He let out a sigh and then moved his hand absently to his forehead, looking as though he’d forgotten his hair was pulled back, trying to push his hand through it. “She’s having a lot of nightmares and the sleeping pills aren’t working. I called her doctor this morning and they want to see her this afternoon, so I’m taking her as soon as I leave here.”

  “What can I do?” My question was aske
d with a helplessness I’d never felt before.

  “Nothing, really.” He sighed. “Although I’m hoping they’ll give her something strong and she’ll be able to sleep. I was also hoping you’d come over later.”

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth my heart was back to somersaulting, but it all came crashing down with the sound of the door opening and Mr. White returning.

  “If you need any help with the material, just let me know. I could suggest a study partner.” Hayes’s cover was expertly executed, but his eyes were wide with worry.

  “Uh, thanks Mr. Wallace. I’ll see you tomorrow.” My response was entirely panicked. I left the classroom quickly, hiking the strap of my messenger bag further onto my shoulder. I had to practically run to make it to the bus before it left. The entire ride home I felt ill.

  At dinner that evening I listened to my mom and dad discuss Mrs. Wallace and her problems, and as bad as I felt for her, knowing she was dealing with something I couldn’t even comprehend, in that moment I was upset for my mother. Watching her best friend deteriorate, watching her crumble and succumb to grief was tearing my mother apart. That I could understand. I understood her need and want to help, only to be left helpless and unable to make a difference.

  No one could help Mrs. Wallace with her pain. All we could do was be there for her and Hayes, help them through it, watch them suffer. It didn’t seem like enough.

  My mother took a moment to compose herself, taking a sip from the wine glass I had noticed she was drinking from more often, then turned her eyes to me.

  “You’ve been pretty quiet lately, Kenzie. How are you holding up?”

  I froze, fork midair, halfway to my mouth. I forced my hand to move the fork to my mouth, hoping the bite would give me some time to sort my thoughts. How was I holding up? I hadn’t given it much thought lately. There was so much else going on in my brain, it was hard to focus on the sad things, easier to hone in on other people’s grief.

  Finally, I shrugged. “I don’t really know, Mom. I’m just kind of taking each day as it comes.”

  “Is it getting easier to be at school?”

  “I don’t think it’s easier to live life without Cory, I just think I’m getting used to it. I still miss him. I can still feel his absence.” And that was the truest thing I’d said in days. His absence was ever-present. When I got a good grade on my math quiz, I wanted to tell Cory—he’d helped me in math since seventh grade, always the person to explain the parts I couldn’t grasp on my own. When the latch on my locker had stuck the day before, I’d immediately had a rush of anger, cursing Cory under my breath for the time earlier that year when his orange juice spilled inside and jammed up the lock when it dried sticky. The anger was quickly followed by a sharp pang, wishing he had been there for me to yell at.

  I forced a sad, small smile. “But I think it’s getting better.”

  I didn’t tell them that I missed my best friend, but not so much my boyfriend. I didn’t think they’d understand that, and, honestly, I wasn’t sure I quite did either.

  “I just want to make sure you know you can talk to us when you feel sad. Or anytime. About anything.” My mother was reaching out figuratively, not wanting me to slip away on a wave of depression.

  “I know, Mom.”

  She smiled at me and took another sip of her wine and I watched as my dad reached over and placed his hand over her free one.

  An hour later, as I sat on my bed trying to concentrate on my English Lit homework, I heard my phone ping.

  **Can you come over?**

  A text from Hayes. My pulse raced.

  **Yeah. I’ll be over in a minute.**

  I panicked about what to tell my parents. Should I tell them I was going to Holly’s to study? Then they’d expect me to take the car. I worried they might go somewhere and see it parked in Hayes’s driveway. Should I tell them I was going for a walk? That wouldn’t give me much time, and it would definitely throw up red flags as it wasn’t something I normally did.

  Shit.

  I slipped on my flip-flops and found my parents watching television in the living room.

  “Uh,” I said, my voice shaking, sure my parents could see right through me. “I’m gonna go hang out with Hayes for a bit. I think his mom is home from the doctor and he needs someone to talk to.” I held my breath, waiting for the inquisition that was surely coming my way.

  “Okay, sweetie,” my dad said, not even turning to look at me.

  “Let me know if Chelsea needs anything, okay? Hayes too. Give them my love.” At least my mom looked at me when she spoke.

  Was it really going to be this easy?

  “Okay, I’ll call you if they need anything I can’t help them with.”

  And that was it. I opened the door and walked to Hayes’s house, just as I had one million times since I’d been old enough to make the trip alone.

  It had never felt like this though.

  I’d never been anxious, edgy, and excited all at the same time to see a boy. As I walked I tried to keep the goofy grin off my face, tried to remind myself that he’d had a rough couple of days—weeks really—and he needed me to be his support system, not necessarily his make-out partner. I pulled my hair up into a high bun, hoping I looked casually cool, as though I didn’t put any thought into the way I looked before I left the house—which was a lie.

  I knocked on his door, holding my breath, bouncing on the balls of my feet.

  When he answered the door, all the air swooshed out of me, and I fell back down, flat on my feet.

  He looked awful. Tired. Worn down. Sad.

  Instinct had my arms around him instantly.

  “You’re here,” he said softly as his arms slid around my waist.

  “Of course I’m here.”

  After a moment long enough to give me a chance to take in his scent, something spicy and woodsy at the same time, he pulled away. “Come in.”

  The house was mostly dark aside from a lamp on a side table in the living room and the light above the stove. Everything else was dark and quiet.

  “How’s your mom?” I followed Hayes to the couch, sitting next to him, waiting for his answer.

  “Sleeping.” He leaned back, bringing his clasped hands behind his head, looking to the ceiling. “The doctor prescribed her some stronger sleeping pills, but pretty much told her he’d only give her thirty, and that to get more she’d have to go back.” His hands dropped to his lap and he looked over at me. “I think he’s worried she’s trying to sleep through her grief.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “I don’t think it’s good, but I also don’t think it would be good for her to be fully here right now either. She’s a mess when she’s awake.”

  “I’m sorry if this is insensitive, and I’m only asking because I don’t actually know, but doesn’t she have to go back to work? She’s been home for a month now.”

  Hayes leaned his head back on the couch, but still kept his eyes on mine, not looking one bit offended by my question.

  “There was a clause in my father’s life insurance that paid off the mortgage when he died. That, along with the rest of the insurance money, means my mom doesn’t have to go back to work for a very long time.”

  I thought about Mrs. Wallace, sitting in her house, all paid off, all alone, no job to go to, with no husband and no Cory. Suddenly, tears filled my eyes. “That’s a terrible trade-off.” The words were hardly out of my mouth before he’d pulled me into him, his arm wrapped around my shoulder, bringing me close.

  “I agree,” he whispered before pressing a kiss to my temple.

  “How are you even functioning, Hayes? How are you making it through every day without losing your mind?” The question might have sounded a little flippant, but it was legitimate. He seemed to be the opposite of his mother: trudging through each day, working hard, keeping his mind occupied, but was he just pushing grief aside as well? I pulled away just a little, wiping the one tear that had escaped, and looked at him,
hoping for a genuine answer.

  “Honestly?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

  “Yeah,” I said with a breath.

  He let out a loud breath, ran his hand through his now-free hair, but then found my eyes again. “When your dad called me that night and told me I needed to come home, I knew something was wrong. I had this feeling in my gut, and somehow I knew my dad was gone. I had to pull over three times because I couldn’t see through the tears.”

  My heart cracked open at his words. I could picture him, all too well, alone in his car, crying, sobbing, trying to make it home to his family, not knowing who was left. I reached over and took his hand, threading my fingers in the space between his, knowing I had nothing to offer him that could make the pain go away.

  “When I got here, I saw my mom and the relief that came with that was overwhelming.” He paused for another moment and I watched as his Adam’s apple dipped, certain he was swallowing to keep his emotions down. “She told me what happened, and I think she was still in shock. She was still a mom, worried about having to tell her son something he should never have to hear. And I was just a kid who’d lost his father and brother. We sat at that table and we cried together. It’s still all kind of a blur. But after a while, when there wasn’t anything else to absorb and all that was left to do was try to figure out how to live without them, I found you in my bed.”

  He took in a quick breath before he continued.

  “I saw you lying there, and I was so relieved. No one had mentioned you and it hadn’t occurred to me that you could have been there with them until I saw you.”

  His words were trembling out of his mouth as he looked down at our intertwined hands. I moved as close to him as I could and reached around with my free arm, my hand slowly pulling his cheek so he would look at me. His eyes darted back and forth between mine as he said his next words.

  “You were here, and you were safe, and even though I’d lost so much, I hadn’t lost everything.”

  As if his words hadn’t been forthcoming enough, his eyes were telling me so much more. They were deep and I was drowning. He was asking me for nothing and everything at the same time, and I feared I had nothing to give him, nothing worthy of the affection filling his eyes. He leaned forward, slowly moving closer, his face angling to just the right tilt so that his mouth would softly brush against mine, and I could do absolutely nothing to stop him.