Holding On

by Allie Everhart

  "After my mom left, I did whatever I could to get her attention, hoping it would make her come back to us. At first, I thought maybe it was my fault that she left. That maybe I wasn't a good enough daughter. So I started doing everything she used to tell me to do before she left. I cleaned my room. Did the dishes. Practiced piano, even though I hated piano. I wore my hair the way she liked it instead of the way I liked it. But it didn't matter what I did because she wasn't there to see it. And even if she were, it wouldn't have made a difference. She was never coming back. It wasn't about me. It was about her. It took a long time for me to realize that and to realize that I can't change her. I can't make her think differently. I can't make her be a mom if that's not what she wants."

  She's exactly right. You can't force people to be what you want them to be.

  Like my dad. I can't change him, so why do I keep trying? Why do I keep doing this to myself? He's never going to change. No matter what I do. No matter how successful I become, he'll never be the father I want him to be.

  Chapter Ten

  Becca

  "You sure you aren't going to school for psychology?" Ethan asks, a smile on his face.

  I smile back. "I'm just saying what I know based on personal experience. I didn't say I was right. And maybe it's different for you. I don't know your situation enough to say. I was just offering a—"

  "No. You were right. That's exactly how it is."

  I nod, but don't push him to tell me more. I get the feeling that what he told me isn't something he shares with a lot of people. Maybe he's never even told anyone that until today. If so, I'm not sure why he told me but I'm glad he felt that he could. And because he did, I was able to tell him about my own issues.

  That stuff about my mom and how I tried to make her come back? It's something I've never told anyone, not even Mike. I'm not even sure I could say it to Mike. If I did, he'd push me to go see her and tell her how I feel, but that's not what I want to do. I've made peace with the fact that she's not coming back. I don't want to rehash the past, pour salt in old wounds.

  But the fact that I tried so hard for so many years to get her back was a secret that was weighing me down. Telling Ethan that secret felt good. Really good. If I'd known how much better I'd feel telling that secret, I would have said it a long time ago. Then again, I didn't have anyone I felt comfortable enough to share it with. Until now.

  I finally found someone who understands. Who knows what it's like to desperately want attention and approval from someone who isn't capable of giving it. It's taken me years to get to the point where I've stopped trying to live my life for my mom and to live it for me instead, but it hasn't been easy, and sometimes I find myself slipping back, searching for ways to get her attention.

  I think Ethan is still stuck in the phase of trying to please his dad, and the accident has left him unsure of what to do. If he can't play football, he might lose his dad. But if he does play football again, he'll be doing it for his father and not himself.

  "New topic," Ethan says, taking another slice of pizza. "Raincoat or umbrella?"

  "What?" I ask, confused.

  "I want to get to know you, Becca—wait, what's your last name? Let's start with that."

  "Walters."

  "Becca Walters. Got it. So, Becca Walters, raincoat or umbrella?"

  "I still don't get the question."

  "When it rains, would you rather have a raincoat or an umbrella? Assuming you could only have one."

  "Raincoat," I say, not even needing to think about it. "I like the feel of rain on my face. But being in soaking wet clothes isn't fun. And even with an umbrella, your clothes still end up getting wet. So raincoat. Definitely. Which would you pick? Raincoat or umbrella?"

  "Neither. I don't mind if I get soaked in the rain, as long as I'm not wearing jeans. Wet jeans suck."

  "Totally. So you're saying if you were wearing jeans, you'd pick the raincoat."

  "Correct. Okay, next question. Chocolate or fruity? Which type of cereal do you prefer?"

  "Hmm. Depends on my mood. In the morning I tend to like fruity but if I'm having it later in the day, I like chocolate. How about you?"

  "Fruity. Any time of day." He takes a drink of his pop, then says, "Lights on or off?"

  I feel my face heating up, but I smile and pretend his bold question doesn't bother me. "That's kind of personal, don't you think?"

  "Why is it personal? I was talking about what you like when you're watching TV. Do you like it dark or would you rather have the lights on? What'd you think I meant?"

  He's such a liar. He definitely meant sex not TV, but I play along. "Lights on, but not too many. And not too bright."

  "Same here. Next question. Rough or gentle?" He says it with a straight face.

  This time I don't question what he means and just answer, "A mix of both."

  "That doesn't really work. Most cars are either one or the other."

  "We're talking about cars?"

  He nods. "Specifically, what kind of ride you like. A rough ride, like a truck." He says 'rough' in a sexy tone, his eyes on mine. "Or a smooth, gentle ride, like a luxury sedan." Again, he says it flirtatiously.

  I'm suddenly feeling very warm, imagining what it would be like to have sex with him. Would it be rough? Gentle? What would his body feel like? Those hard muscles. Those large hands.

  "You sticking with your answer?" he asks.

  I wake from my fantasy. "Um, yeah. A mix of both."

  He smiles, knowing his words got to me.

  "Is it my turn?" I ask.

  "Go ahead."

  "Top or bottom?"

  As expected, my question doesn't faze him. He's very confident. I think it takes a lot to embarrass him.

  "Are we talking bunkbeds?" he asks.

  Damn, he's good. A quick thinker.

  "Yeah, bunkbeds," I say. "Do you like the top or bottom bunk?"

  "Both. Preferably, I like to try both in the course of a night."

  I swallow, my mind once again imagining the two of us together, him on top, and then me. We need to get off this naughty line of questioning before this night turns into more than just two friends hanging out. Not that I wouldn't like more than that, but I shouldn't go there. He's my boss. And he's Ethan Baxter, who admitted he's not looking for a committed relationship. Then again, neither am I so maybe a quick fling wouldn't be so bad.

  "Was that it?" he asks. "Or did you have more questions?"

  "Action or comedy? What's your favorite type of movie?"

  "Action, with a spy element. Like secret agents. That type of thing. But I also like comedies."

  "I love comedies but a good spy thriller is awesome too." I pause to think of my next question. "Popcorn or candy? What do you eat when watching movies?"

  "Popcorn. But I don't know how to make anything other than the microwave kind and I don't like that kind so if I'm watching at home, I usually just snack on chips or nothing at all. But if I'm at the movies, it's definitely popcorn."

  "I like popcorn too. And I agree, the microwave stuff isn't that good but I still eat it because it's easy to make."

  We continue asking each other questions for the next half hour. Ethan keeps his questions free of any sexual innuendo and so do I. I think those questions were getting us both too aroused.

  "Should we go watch the movie? I'm done with the pizza but if you're not, there's no rush."

  "I'm done."

  As I go to clean up, Ethan says, "Just leave it. I'll get it later."

  "I don't mind." I take the plates to the sink.

  "Becca, I don't want you feeling like you have to clean when you're not working."

  "I'm putting a couple plates in the dishwasher. It's not that difficult. You can get the movie started. I'll be there in a minute."

  As he leaves, I gather our snacks and drinks. I bring them to the living room and set them on the coffee table, but then move Ethan's drink to the end table so he can reach it better. It's hard for him to bend for
ward with his leg up.

  Ethan's on the couch so I take the chair that's next to it.

  "Why are you sitting over there?" he asks.

  "It's where I sat last night."

  "But now we're friends. Friends who've shared intimate details about bunk beds and car rides and umbrellas."

  "What are you getting at?"

  "Good friends sit next to each other."

  "Um, okay." I get up and move over to the couch, but keep a whole seat cushion between us.

  The movie begins. It's a comedy. I brought it because I thought Ethan could use some cheering up. When I came here last Thursday he seemed so down. He's better now, and I wonder if that's because I've been spending time with him or if he was just having a bad day on Thursday.

  "Get a clue, dumbass," Ethan says. I look over and see that he's talking to the character in the movie. "She is so not into you."

  I laugh. "You talk to the characters?"

  "Yeah. Why?"

  "I do that too. Drives my brother crazy."

  "A couple years ago I dated this girl who got so mad when I talked during a movie that she got up and left. I knew then that she wasn't the girl for me."

  "Most guys I've dated don't care, but they don't participate, which is kind of a bummer. It's more fun when you're both doing it."

  He motions to the TV. "Then join in. What do you have to say to Delia?"

  Delia is the female lead. She works at a zoo and is in love with Eddie, the guy who works in the lion cage, but he has no interest in her. Vince, the 'dumbass' Ethan was referring to, loves Delia but she only sees him as a friend.

  "Eddie's an idiot," I say to Delia. "You could do so much better. You should give Vince a chance. You could at least go on a date with him."

  "Is that what you do?" Ethan asks.

  I turn to him. "What?"

  "Do you go on dates with guys you're not really interested in?"

  "No. I don't want to get their hopes up. But I think Delia secretly likes Vince, which is why she should at least go on a date with him."

  "When was your last date?"

  "I'm not sure." I stop to think, then remember my last date was with Nathan, the guy I met at the car wash. "Wow, has it really been that long?"

  "How long?"

  "My last date was almost six months ago."

  "You couldn't find anyone to date, or what?"

  "I haven't really been looking. I haven't had time."

  He pats the spot next to him. "Come here."

  I shouldn't get that close to him, but of course I do. Because I want to. And my desire to be near him wins out over my head telling me not to.

  "Go for it or hold back?" he asks.

  "What does that mean?"

  "If you're attracted to someone, and want to act on that attraction, are you more likely to go for it, or hold back?"

  "Hold back," I say. "And you?"

  "Go for it," he says, his eyes locked on mine. His hand lifts to my face, gently cupping my cheek. "Soft or hard?"

  I swallow, my heart pounding. "In regards to what?"

  He lowers his mouth so close to mine that I feel his breath. "How you like to be kissed."

  I close my eyes and whisper, "Surprise me."

  And he does. His lips brush against mine in soft, light kisses that gradually increase in pressure as his hand moves to the back of my head, gently pulling me closer. I turn my body toward his and place my hand on his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath. His tongue nudges open my lips and I willingly part them, wanting more.

  Before I can think about what I'm doing, I find myself lifting up, trying to get closer to him. His hands move to my waist, pulling me up even more. At first I resist, but then follow his lead and climb onto his lap, straddling him. We continue to kiss, but this time it's even hotter because I feel him beneath me. I feel the heat from his body. The hard muscle along his abs and chest. The bulge in his shorts.

  It's clearly been too long since I've been with a guy because I'm aroused to the point that I could have sex right now on this couch. But I won't. It's too soon for that, and I'm not someone who has casual sex. I prefer to be in a relationship, which isn't going to happen with Ethan.

  The longer we kiss, the more I consider changing my mind about the casual sex thing. Maybe this once I could make an exception.

  Just as I'm thinking that, Ethan breaks from the kiss and leans his forehead against mine. "Stop or keep going?" Before I can answer, he says, "What do you do when you want to keep going but know you shouldn't?"

  "Stop?"

  He chuckles. "Are you asking me or telling me? Because if you're asking me, I think you already know the answer won't be to stop."

  "But we should."

  "Yeah." He sighs. "We should."

  I climb off his lap and sit beside him. He puts his arm up and I snuggle against his chest, as if we're dating. As if he's my boyfriend and we've been together for months. And for some odd reason, that's what it feels like. Like we're a couple. Like I've known Ethan for months. And I think he feels the same way about me. But why would we feel that way? It's too soon. It doesn't make sense.

  We don't talk about it. About the kiss, or how we feel, or where we go from here. Instead we finish the movie and when it's done we find another one to watch.

  I stay until midnight, and when I leave, I don't want to. But I do, and on the drive back to my apartment, I realize how hard I'm falling for Ethan. It's not just our attraction to each other making me feel this way, but the fact that we shared so much of ourselves tonight. In the past, my longest relationship was six months and I didn't share anything personal with that guy. And yet, after knowing Ethan just a few days, I've already told him some of my deepest secrets. And he's told me his.

  "Another late night," Mike says as he sees me walking in.

  "You don't have to keep waiting up for me." I toss my keys on the kitchen table. "I'm 21. I'm not a kid anymore."

  "I have to make sure you get home safe." He meets me in the kitchen. "So? What happened? Are you guys dating now?"

  "We're not dating. We're just hanging out." I get a glass and fill it with water.

  "Hanging out could imply a lot of different things."

  "Well, it doesn't. We hung out. Watched movies. Had pizza. That's it."

  "Did you kiss him?"

  I roll my eyes. "I am not going to answer that."

  "Which means it's a yes."

  "I never said that."

  "But you can't stop smiling."

  "I am not smiling," I insist, but then feel myself smiling. "Maybe I'm just in a good mood."

  "Because you kissed Ethan Baxter. But that better be all you did."

  "Seriously?" I look at him. "Again, I'm 21. Not 12. I can partake in adult activities."

  Mike raises his voice. "You slept with him?"

  "No! Would you quiet down? You'll wake the neighbors."

  He takes a calming breath. "Just don't do anything you'll regret. A guy like Ethan doesn't keep a girl around for very long. I don't want you getting hurt."

  "I'm not. I mean, I won't. He's not going to hurt me because we're not going to date. I like him as a friend, and if we happen to kiss, then so be it. It's not that big a deal."

  "Kissing leads to other things."

  "Yeah, well, in this case it won't." I say that with zero confidence and Mike notices and gives me his be-careful look, but leaves it at that.

  "So I stopped down at Heather's." Now he's the one smiling.

  "I thought you weren't going to her place until tomorrow."

  "That was the plan but I went out to grab dinner and when I got back I saw her going into her apartment. She was getting home from work so I didn't want to bother her, but a couple hours later I stopped down just to say hi."

  "How long did you stay?"

  "About an hour. She invited me in for a beer and we sat and talked."

  "So what do you think of her?"

  "She's great. We have a lot in common."

&n
bsp; "Did you ask her out?"

  "Not yet. I didn't want to rush into anything. I figure she lives in the building so I'll have plenty of chances to talk to her." He checks the clock. "We should get to bed. You have to be up early for work."

  I agree and we both go to our rooms.

  In the morning, I'm exhausted. I normally don't stay up that late on a Sunday but last night was worth a few hours of missed sleep. Kissing Ethan? Definitely worth an hour or two of missed sleep.

  By eleven, I'm done cleaning the first house and I head home for lunch. Mike is at the kitchen table, working on his laptop.

  "What are you grinning about?" I ask as I walk past him to the fridge.

  "Nothing." And yet he's still grinning.

  "Is it because of Heather? Did you see her this morning?"

  "Yeah. I went down there around nine. She had breakfast waiting. She cooks. Can you believe that? Who cooks anymore?"

  Certainly not me. I burn toast. Mike's a little better than me but not much. And Tricia never cooked.

  "What'd she make?"

  "Some kind of egg dish and some muffins. It was really good. She said she just made it for herself and had extra, but I kind of think she made it for me."

  "She totally did. She definitely has the hots for you."

  "You really think so?" He can't hide his smile.

  "I know so. Didn't you see how she was looking at you when you met her?"

  "I didn't notice. I'm not used to paying attention to that stuff after being with Tricia for so long."

  "Well, you need to start paying attention. Girls are always checking you out."

  He chuckles. "Yeah, right."

  "I'm not joking." I take a can of pop from the fridge and turn to Mike. "You're my brother so it's weird to say this but you're a good-looking guy. You're tall. You have muscles. Blue eyes. You still have your hair."

  "I'm only 26. I would hope I wouldn't be bald yet."

  "A lot of guys your age are bald, or at least have a receding hairline. But you still have a full head of hair."

  "And a missing leg."

  I shrug. "Big deal. Girls don't care about that."

  "Some do," he mumbles, referring to Tricia.

  "Then they're not worth your time. Heather doesn't care about your leg."