by Fiona Keane
Luke turned the news on his radio while we drove toward my home, his response to the flashing highway signs. I adapted to seeing things through a constant blur, I didn’t need the weather report to know the hurricane was coming.
“…we expect the storm to make landfall by Saturday morning…future models suggest a northeasterly projection, first contacting anything between Sarasota and St. Pete…it is strongly suggested citizens heed these warnings, take precautions, and leave if possible…expect damaging winds, flooding…” Michelle turned the dial and glowered at Luke.
“You idiots are not going camping.”
***
Once I had finished half of the frozen pizza Jules left for me that evening, I tossed and turned in my bed. I kept the window open, hoping the peaceful sound of the rain squeezing in through the screen would help me drift off. I didn’t care about the floor getting wet. This place would be the first to go in the hurricane, so who even cared?
I stared out at the darkness, allowing myself to easily fall into my own trap. I need to erase him from my contacts. If I do that, I won’t be tempted. Do I have to go to Michelle’s tomorrow? Where are Jules and Simon going? As soon as this hurricane is done destroying southwestern Florida, I’m out of here. I need to be. I need to pretend I was never here, I never met Jameson, and I never let down my guard.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
I did it. I finished. I was no longer obligated to endure the scorching sun and threat of gators. I finished my final exam and wanted nothing more than to call my mom. She would have been so proud of me. She would have sung in French, danced like the gorgeous ballerina she once was, and then we would have eaten crepes…just like on the day she died. Take a deep breath. You’re done. Done.
Olivia and Michelle dressed me up like I was their little doll. It was embarrassing, but they felt my slump, so this was my pathetic attempt to pretend I was normal. I worried the hours I spent in bed after my last final, not responding to their text messages, would have sent the message that I didn’t want to be around people, but I also didn’t want to lose them. The last thing I wanted to do was be in a crowd of people. That was the last thing I wanted, ever, but Michelle’s graduation party was mandatory.
“Are you feeling better at all?” Olivia bit her lips as she finished pinning my hair, watching my reflection. I glanced at Michelle, who was reaching for an expensive bottle of perfume.
“No perfume.” My head shook. “I said just the dress and makeup. That was it.”
She grumbled, “Fine. You’ll be sorry when you smell like the beach later.”
“I like the beach,” Olivia interjected. She stepped away from me when my hair was to her satisfaction and nudged Michelle’s arm, smiling.
“I don’t get it,” Michelle teased. “She’s gorgeous with makeup, she’s gorgeous without. They’re going to drop like flies out there. Even Owen and Luke.”
“This is too tight.” I wiped along the snug white fabric that barely stretched over my hips. “I’m not used to this…”
“I think you look amazing. I’ve never worn that dress.” Michelle smiled. “You can keep it. Wear it to make Jamie jealous.”
“Michelle,” Olivia mumbled, looking at me.
I could almost taste the blood from biting my lip. It had been one week since I heard from him. A week! It was like he disappeared, or was trying to. Because of me…and I’d never learn what I did wrong.
“Hey.” Olivia hugged me. “You didn’t do anything except fall for a guy. We’ve all been there.”
“We have,” Michelle agreed while she stepped toward her bedroom door. “How do I look?”
“Great,” Olivia and I replied.
***
Olivia and I were standing on the covered porch that faced Michelle’s backyard, watching the pool splash with the violent drops of rain.
“I’m so glad you came,” her head rested against my shoulder, “I can’t believe we’re done.”
“Done,” I scoffed, secretly savoring the word in my mind. “Me either.”
Olivia turned to press her back against a post between panels of glass with a small sigh before she continued speaking.
“I wonder if Michelle and Luke will last through summer.” She sighed once more, looking away from me. I shrugged, mesmerized by the intensity with which rain pounded the chlorinated water ten feet away.
“I don’t want you to worry, but I want to prepare you,” Olivia whispered in my ear, pressing her head against my right shoulder.
“You’re freaking me out,” I teased, taking a sip from my can of diet cola. My eyes drifted up, noticing Michelle approach us with a glare in her eye before she stood across from us.
“Wow,” she muttered, shaking her head, “He has some nerve.”
“Michelle,” Olivia hissed, causing me to follow the direction of Michelle’s blazing stare.
I could feel it before I needed them to continue, knowing in the pit of my stomach that what caused my heart to ache over the last week was about to break it entirely. I felt Olivia’s eyes on me, followed by the reassuring squeeze of her hand. Michelle groaned before protectively stepping in front of Olivia and me.
“I don’t recall sending you an invitation,” she informed Jameson as he approached, entering the doorway of the porch.
“We need to talk.” His face was calm, void of anything. No happiness, no anger, not even exhaustion.
Olivia squeezed my hand even tighter than before, probably her attempt to increase my circulation because all blood had fallen with my heart into a pool at my feet.
“You don’t need to go anywhere with him,” Michelle whispered, turning around to look at me.
I need answers. He stepped around us, opening the door to the outside. With his back to us, I took in the sight of Jameson in dark jeans and a black t-shirt. His hair was damp from the rain. He continued to climb down into Michelle’s backyard, expecting me to trail. Like a pathetic moth, I did.
My knees were beginning to give way, following Jameson’s turning form as he stepped out of the porch and patiently glided through the rain toward the small boathouse just beyond the pool. The tight fabric of my dress clung even more to my frame as it became saturated with the walk to the boathouse. We stood beneath the covered area, wind and rain violently warring around us.
“Wh—” Come on, Sophia, get the courage, just demand to know…“Where have you been?”
“Sick. Out of town.” His hazel gaze wasn’t spared on me. I was gifted with only his profile as he scanned the water beyond the pier.
“Why did you stop…” I shook my head. Something changed. Something happened to him. This wasn’t the boy who chased after me, the boy who kissed me and promised to protect me…I felt sick.
“We should keep our distance from each other,” Jameson muttered, holding his body against the doorframe.
I stopped breathing; my chest felt like caving inside, tearing me into pieces as he stood there, brooding and handsome, telling me we need to be apart.
“What?”
Jameson’s arms crossed, his head leaning back as if praying for me to leave so he wouldn’t need to continue.
“I thought a lot about this and I shouldn’t have led you on. You were right. I don’t date.”
“Jameson.” His name now felt like poison on my tongue.
“I’m going to go,” he sighed. “Goodnight, Sophia.”
Sophia. He hadn’t used my full name since we met.
My stomach knotted, battling against my heart and mind for which would explode first once Jameson was gone. He leaned away from the door, pulling himself forward, preparing an exit the deepest part of my soul knew would shatter my core. I could smell his cologne, the musk and spice teasing my heart as he inched closer to me.
I watched Jameson study me, as I was speechless, for only a moment, a fleeting second of which I didn’t believe his words. His height towered over me; my insignificance illustrating itself. My fingers began tingling as
I felt my soul trickle out with each breath Jameson inhaled, hovering inches from my face.
“Goodbye,” he repeated, swiftly pressing his lips to my forehead before turning around and leaving me. Alone. On the pier. At midnight.
The vibrating hum of music from Michelle’s house deepened, blurring into a throbbing ache in my mind. His exit was cruel. I felt the pain rise into my lungs and reaching its spiky ends through my chest and up the length of my neck. My lungs filled with concrete—I couldn’t breathe. I crashed to the ground as my legs gave way beneath me.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR
I trusted Jameson when I told him about my panic attacks. About my mom. I pulled my knees to my chest, thinking of her, remembering the way she was when I found her. My tears poured, catching in my throat as they tickled a cough from my already heaving chest. I held myself, huddled in a ball on the pier, shaking while I struggled to cope with another overwhelming sensation of abandonment.
“Sophia,” I heard Olivia shout. “Where are you? Sophia? Oh my god, Sophia!”
Her bony hands squeezed my shoulders as she pulled my body from the pier, frantically scanning my face. She tucked loose hairs behind my ears and wiped my tears with the cuffs of her black cardigan, all while mumbling my name.
“Count to ten with me,” she whispered. “One…two…three…”
I was able to join her by six, allowing the concentration of the remaining four numbers to help me refocus. A familiar smile appeared on her face; a nurturing expression with an inkling of pride. I watched Olivia move to my side, squeezing my left hand into hers and dropping our hands in her lap.
“Tell me,” she encouraged, “what did he do to you?”
My eyes, brimming with tears, moved to face her. My mouth opened and nothing came out. I felt helpless.
“Where is he?” Olivia was demanding too much from me.
I was mute. My body was frozen, my heart stopped, my soul…it had poured out with each stinging tear. Olivia took out her phone and began texting while grumbling about her negative feelings toward Jameson and a broken fingernail. Her blonde pony violently shook as she taunted Jameson’s shadow.
“I told Michelle that I’m taking you home.” She stood, reaching for my hand. “Let’s go, Sophia.”
I barely felt Olivia lift me, holding my frame against her as she struggled to walk with me off the pier and toward her car. My fingers were absolutely freezing, with a chill that migrated tauntingly up my arms and into my blood.
“Honey,” Olivia whimpered as we approached her car. She opened the door. “Sophia. Your hands are freezing.”
“I’m going to be sick.”
“Oh.” She quickly spun me around at the shoulders and cradled me as I folded against the concrete and shared the contents of my dinner with the street. “Sophia…god! What a dick! I’m going to his house and…”
“Hey!” Owen ran toward us. Great.
I could barely make out Olivia’s frantic wave, attempting to turn Owen away, but he either didn’t understand her nonverbal communication or didn’t care. I didn’t care anymore. I couldn’t care anymore. I simply continued to make out with the street as I clung to it, enduring the terrible feeling writhing inside of me as I purged the contents of my stomach while my nerves fired against each other within me.
“What the hell?” Owen groaned, but not with disgust. Sympathy?
I felt hands on my back, running up and down, and someone was pulling my hair tightly into a messy knob at the base of my neck. I was freezing. The chill had spread into my chest, spiraling into every possible extremity, and I began to shake. The three of us were soaking and I couldn’t move.
“Sophia,” Owen’s deep voice whispered softly at my ear. “We’ll take you home. Do you want to go home?”
I nodded—barely. I’m not sure if it was just a break between spontaneous heaves or my acknowledgement. Olivia was helping me into the backseat and I glanced up at her. Her blue eyes burned into mine, exchanging an unspoken expression of support, love, and trust. She kissed my clammy forehead before closing my door and climbing into the passenger seat.
“Home?” Owen asked, resting into the driver’s seat of Olivia’s car, glancing at me in the rearview. Olivia replied, thankfully, and Owen pulled away from the curb.
***
Jules was gone. I barely cared. I didn’t have tears left to cry over her continued absence as Olivia and Owen practically carried my heaving body into my bedroom.
“Pajamas?” Owen asked Olivia, nodding to my saturated dress and hair.
Olivia let go of me and I fell against my mattress, welcoming the familiar scent of home. She stood and joined Owen at my dresser, telling him to step out while she pulled some clothes out for me.
“We’re going to have to get over our pride here, Sophski.” I could feel her warm smile as she sat next to me. “I’ll help you get changed.”
Nodding, I stood to wiggle out of the clinging fabric and took the shirt and pants Olivia held for me. Once inside the warm clothes, I wiggled my bra through the sleeve and dumped it in the pile of wet fabric.
“Better?”
“I just don’t get it.” I fell into the mattress again. “My heart hurts. It is actually throbbing.”
“Can I come back in?” Owen tapped on the door.
Olivia wiped hair from my face and shrugged before permitting Owen back into my bedroom. The mattress shifted as he added his weight to the small bed.
“I don’t understand at all,” Owen whispered. “Why would Jamie just show up like that? Just to break up with you? Shit, I didn’t even know you two were together. I’m so sorry, Sophia.”
“They weren’t…well…” Olivia groaned, unable to read my mind to describe whatever it was Jameson and I had been. “Do you think this is one of those pathetic clichés where he is really in love with her and too afraid? You guys do some messed up stuff when your knickers are in a knot.”
“Whoa,” Owen scoffed. “Don’t generalize. For one, guys don’t think that deeply. And second…in love?”
“I thought we weren’t generalizing,” Olivia retorted. “Look, your friend is an ass. I never thought this about him before, but did you see him? Seriously. Call him and cuss him out, Owen.”
“I’m not going to do that, Olivia.”
“Just stop,” I sobbed, sitting against the headboard, pulling my knees against me. “I don’t want to listen to this. I can’t. I just…”
***
My fingers tapped along the soft warmth of fabric that rose and lowered. Breathing. Opening my eyes from a dreamless slumber, I looked up to see my head was pressed onto Owen’s bicep. His cologne was sweeter than Jameson’s, sort of citrusy. He fit perfectly into the stereotype of Florida, walking around smelling like an edible orange. Rolling my head toward the left against his abdomen, I noticed Olivia’s hand rested on his chest, lifting with each sleeping inhale. Oh.
Moisture consumed my eyes, falling into the fabric of Owen’s shirt as I failed to resist the thoughts of what happened just hours prior. I failed to forget.
I woke to shattering glass, unsure whether time had passed. My body flew in an instant, reacting with panic to the sound within my room.
“It was just the window,” Owen said from the doorway. “Hail.”
“Hail?” Olivia moaned, climbing over me to avoid the shards of glass on her side of my bed. Her tiny arms clung to Owen’s waist, her body relaxing once within his protective grasp.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
JAMESON
“Jesus, Jameson. What did you do to Sophia?” Owen screamed at me over the phone. What did I do to Sophia? What happened to Sophia? Jesus.
“What are you talking about?”
“At Michelle’s two days ago. What did you say to her? I had to take her home. It was pathetic, Jamie. I spent the night with her and Olivia. The poor girl wouldn’t leave my side. What did you do to her?”
“I didn’t do anything to her.”<
br />
I was heated; boiling over at the thought of Owen in bed with Sophia…doing what I was supposed to be doing…protecting her.
“Bullshit.” His defensive tone was the same protection I had wanted to express for Sophia. “Tell me what the hell happened. If not for me, then for Olivia, so she can support Sophia through whatever the hell turmoil you’re dropping on her.”
“No turmoil, Owen.” Now, that was bullshit. I could actually hear Owen’s disbelief through the phone.
“Look, man,” he groaned, “I don’t know what the heck was going on between you and Sophia, but you can’t just show up at Michelle’s and basically tell Sophia to piss off. You’ve really affected her, Jamie. This is messed up as hell. I really can’t believe you. I mean, I know you don’t date and shit, but now I get it. You treat women like shit.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Owen’s words were burning a hole into me, picking at the rotting tissue within my heart. His tone, the elongated sigh that was released before he hung up…
What had I done to Sophia? I was paralyzed—I had broken her, ruined her innocence which I promised to protect, and there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing. I needed to get out of there. I had to leave. I had to go to Soph’s house, barge in there regardless of her aunt, and take her away with me. I must…I glanced at the yard through the imposing wall of windows in the living room. Elizabeth was speaking with one of the minions she and Thomas paid to protect their ivory tower from the hurricane.
Right. I couldn’t go to Soph. She would move on. She had to. Someone would help her. The thought made my stomach heave, bile swarming into my throat.
