Unwritten

by Alex Rosa

  “Let me buy you a beer,” he says, hailing the bartender.

  I shake my head, scrunching my brows together, having no idea how to handle this. “No. You. Will. Not.”

  Someone snickers behind me, and I remember how much I hate small towns.

  “Don’t argue, Hailey. I’m sure we’ll have more reasons to argue later, don’t you think?”

  More snickers.

  My gut twists, and I’m forced to look at him. He’s smiling. I sure as hell remember that smile. My mouth goes dry, and lucky for me, the bartender appears, setting two open beer bottles in front of us.

  I grab for mine, needing to wet my palate. My eyes are glued to that half-smirk a little too long before swinging back to his eyes. “Thank you.”

  Forcing myself to turn around, I realize I don’t have a place to run, err, I mean, go. I stroll back to the pool table.

  I clutch my beer close as I approach. Brandon shoots me a supportive smirk as he leans against his pool cue. It isn’t until I see his eyes shoot behind me that I know Caiden is following. Brandon gives him raised brows of recognition. He’s apparently shocked that Caiden’s finally revealed himself. This thought angers me, and made bold by my previous drinks, I abruptly swivel around. With Caiden trailing so close behind, he nearly runs into me.

  I point the tip of my beer at him, squinting with one judgmental eye. “So, were you just going to hide out until I left town?”

  He at least has the decency to look contrite. This time, he glances over to our group of friends, who feel more like his group of friends now that we’re standing here. When his eyes fall back to mine, he takes a long chug of beer before responding. “Glad to see that mouth of yours hasn’t changed.”

  It’s almost like he’s flirting, but then again, it also seems like an insult.

  Caiden sees me trying to form a response and cuts me off. He knows better. “No, I wasn’t going to. Was I avoiding you? Maybe. But I realized that was stupid.”

  My guts knot themselves into a pretty bow inside me, and I want to reply with Maybe it wasn’t, but instead I say, “It’s nice to see you.”

  He releases an exasperated laugh as his stare drags down the length of my body, and then takes another gulp of beer. “I find that hard to believe, but I appreciate your manners. Your mom would be proud.”

  He’s the only person in this town who could get away with saying that, and I laugh, but as the sound escapes my lips, it makes my heart ache. It’s too soon.

  “I’m really sorry about your mom, Hailey.” His hand lifts as if he’s about to touch me, to comfort me, but he thinks better of it and retracts it.

  I don’t know what hurts more at this moment, him mentioning my mom or not wanting to touch me. “Thank you,” I reply robotically.

  He bobs on the heels of his boots, and I can’t stop staring at him. The long sleeves of his shirt hide what I desperately want to confirm, and I’m so ready to chew him out, but I can’t figure out what about. He’s always been a lot taller than me, but now he’s wider and more built. Now he’s like a towering wall, but a cute one. Handsome, really.

  His presence sends my mind into a daze I don’t know how to manage yet. I set my beer down, because I don’t think more alcohol is the answer right now. “How are you?”

  “I’ve been good. Keeping busy.”

  “I heard you’re a fireman now, with the guys. That’s pretty cool.”

  He smiles smugly. “Yup. Took me a while to figure out what I wanted, but I do love the job.”

  “So, you like, rescue kittens from trees and stuff, then?”

  He laughs, and I love the sound so much that I hate it. I’m aware that makes no sense.

  Curiously, the corner of his mouth lifts. “No, not all the time.”

  “I see.”

  “So…” He mirrors my sarcastic tone, placing his beer down, too, and jams his hands into his tight jeans, shooting me a coy glance. “I heard your writing thing worked out.” His smile tells me he’s fucking with me. The bastard.

  “Keeping tabs on me, Caiden?” I don’t want to talk about my book with him, and alcohol makes me bold. “Have you missed me?”

  He laughs, and shoots a grin to someone behind me, who I can assume is Brandon. “I heard you’ve been at the diner working?”

  He’s not going to answer me, and I hate that that makes him smart.

  “I have.” I nod. “I heard you’ve been avoiding the diner.”

  He grits his teeth. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

  I don’t know where to start, so my mouth flies open and words come out. “It’s hard being there, ya know?” I don’t know why such honest words emerge when I’ve only been standing in front of him for five minutes, but I can’t stop. “It’s just, I’m trying to figure this all out. The diner. Not having Mom. You. It doesn’t seem like I’m allowed to deal with any of this the way I’d like.”

  “So, you missed me, then?” he asks, using my question. He reveals a full-toothed grin, and although it’s knee-liquefying, it’s not what I want to hear.

  The rounding sound of laughter from a group behind me isn’t either. My guts squirm at the realization that we’re not alone, that I’ve said too much, and that people are staring. This is small-town life, and I can’t assume everyone minds their own business like they would in LA. I don’t like feeling so vulnerable.

  I glance around to see people darting their eyes and eavesdropping away. My skin crawls, and I don’t know what to tackle first: Caiden or our audience. I shake my head, feeling my pulse rise in my throat. His grin drops as fast as it had appeared.

  “Sorry, Hailey,” he responds. “I was just trying to make a joke; that was stupid of me.”

  I just stand there, enjoying watching him fumble when all I’m giving him is silence.

  He scratches the back of his neck and ruffles his thick, unkempt hair. “I mean, I miss your mom, too. She was like my mom, ya know?” He lets out a growl of frustration, his eyes dropping to the floor as he says, “Ah shit, I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?”

  He is, although I don’t know how to make this awkwardness any better. I don’t want to talk about my mom. Not now that he’s standing here before me, but he’s rattled my emotions in another way I didn’t see coming.

  “I need some air.”

  And I’m gone, making my way to the exit, walking out the door he just entered, but when I hit the night air, I start to run to the opposite side of the parking lot. I love the cool wind against my skin, finding that I feel on fire everywhere and out of breath. I instantly remember how much I love the crisp summer nights in the mountains. When the rush of fresh oxygen barrels down my throat as I inhale deeply, it’s a relief to my senses.

  I hear the fast crunching of gravel approaching, and I know whoever is following me is inevitable, and that deep, dark place in my heart wants it, even though it shouldn’t.

  I thought I was prepared for encountering Caiden. Okay, maybe I wasn’t so prepared to see what he looks like in comparison to five years ago, but I had an inkling of what I’d be facing emotionally. But this is different. This life has an audience, among other things.

  I exhale, closing my eyes.

  “Hailey?”

  I never doubted he’d follow me, but I don’t want to turn around. Standing at the edge of the parking lot, I open my eyes, greeted with lush darkness. I can smell the pine forest that’s in front of me even though the night shields me from it. I’m totally baffled by how green and forested it is here. How could I forget that my childhood adventures always lay a few feet beyond every bit of home? I’d only have to run into the woods to let my imagination run wild, or to seek a quiet moment, or even to let my heart fall hopelessly in love. I don’t have this in LA I’m in awe of this escape route.

  “Yes?” I reply, turning around. Caiden is so ridiculously grown up in such a heart-stopping way that I forget how to operate my mouth. “Five years did you unfortunately well, Caid.”

  He laughs, his e
yes blatantly sliding up the length of my body again. He’s opening his mouth to respond, but my heart and mind have another battle to score. “Don’t respond to that,” I blurt.

  “We’re not so good at this seeing-each-other-after-all-these-years thing, are we?”

  “We’re all over the map.”

  He nods. “Where do we start now?”

  I lift my hand, and in my flustered state, I grab for his tattooed arm, pushing up his sleeve. “Show me,” I whisper. It’s a demand I shouldn’t make.

  He doesn’t pull away; he just stares, pinning me with intensity and goading curiosity as he whispers back, “Why, Hailey?”

  “I just need to know.”

  The curve to his lips makes it feel like he’s achieved his own personal victory. I know I’m showing I care too much.

  “This is where you want us to start?” he asks.

  I just nod, liking how the soft skin of his wrist feels under my fingertips, and how he keeps staring at my hand on him.

  “Well, it’s still there. I didn’t cover it up.” He gently pulls his wrist from my grasp and pushes his sleeve farther up his arm to bravely show me the underside of his forearm.

  There it is.

  My initials, still there on his skin, but this time, the cursive letters weave around an intricate, stark tree tattoo, the letters wrapping around the branches. Almost like a secret among the woods that mark him now.

  I blink a few times, not realizing that I would feel such an ocean of relief at the sight, but my frantic heart can’t seem to catch up. “Oh,” I breathe out.

  His tattoos are a work of art. The wrist and upward of his arm have a forest, and a deep, purple night sky above it with artistic designs and swirls between the trees, including the letters H.L.E.

  Hailey Lynn Elwood.

  My eyes lift from his perfect forearms, strong and manly and sort of beautiful, and I can’t believe my initials are still there now. I don’t know how to recover from my poised freak-out.

  “Does everyone know about it?” I can’t even say what it is. I just raise my finger and point at my three initials that are on his skin so strategically that you wouldn’t be able to notice it. It’s clever and stunning all at once.

  He chews the inside of his cheek, lifting heavy shoulders as he gruffly responds, “Everyone knows I have your initials tattooed on me except one person.”

  “Who?”

  “My girlfriend.”

  There it is.

  “Oh.” It’s like he’s knocked my feet from under me. CeeCee mentioned he had a girlfriend, so I thought I was prepared, but I’m an idiot. I wasn’t given the time to digest it properly. Hearing him confirm it stings more than I’d ever admit out loud. “I heard you had one of those.”

  It’s like he’s waiting for me to react, but I can’t. I’ve reacted so much tonight that I might be reacted out.

  “Of course you heard about that. Brandon tell you, or Cecelia?”

  The question has the corner of my mouth twitching. It becomes clear what Brandon was avoiding during all those awkward moments with him and the boys.

  “Cecelia,” I smirk.

  “Figures.” He pauses, pawing the ground a second before he lifts his head up to say, “So, did you get all fancy in LA and remove yours?”

  My face twists at his tone, but if anything, I understand. I feared the same when I heard Brandon say they all got tattooed. Caiden could have easily covered my initials, but he didn’t, and I can’t tell what it means, or if it means anything at all.

  Note to self: dissect that one later.

  My eyes focus back on his as I blindly fold down the material of my jean skirt on the right side of my hip to show him his initials.

  Each letter of black script curling around the other.

  C.L.A.

  Caiden Lawrence Anderson

  Untouched. Unmarked. Still in its pristine form, just like the memory of that crazy day when we were eighteen.

  He stares at it hard, examining it as he licks his lips before bringing his eyes back to mine. “I was worried you’d get rid of it like you got rid of me.”

  “That isn’t fair, and you know it.” I shake my head, having to look away. This is one of those moments I expected but could never wrap my head around how to handle. “I had to make a choice, Caiden.”

  He stuffs his hands into his pockets, his eyes heavy. He doesn’t seem afraid; if anything, he seems determined. “And you chose to leave me.”

  “You didn’t have to make me choose.” I rake my fingers through my blonde waves. How do I explain myself?

  His loud, disgruntled sigh catches me off guard, and when I see that his eyes are clenched shut as he tries to figure out what to say, I don’t feel so alone in this.

  He lifts his tattooed right hand to rub over the thick scruff covering his jaw, and I’m curious what it might feel like against my fingertips. I used to know everything about this guy, every curve, every smile, but now there’s a level of unknown, and it almost feels like an adventure… a terrifying one, a ludicrous endeavor if there ever was one, because isn’t it all impossible now? He’s not mine. He’s someone else’s.

  When his eyes fly open, I almost feel guilty for watching him so closely.

  “I know—I know, Hailey. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, right? Your dreams were bigger than I could understand at the time. Is that fair to admit?” He kicks at a few rocks before trying for more. “At the time, I needed you here with me. You wanted me to go with you to a big city so you could be a writer, but how was I supposed to understand that? All I could understand was, I had to leave everything I knew.”

  “We could have made a life there and figured it out together, don’t you think?”

  “Ya know, it’s almost cute how you still think it’s so simple. Even when we were kids, you were always so sure of yourself. You always knew what you wanted. I couldn’t run away with you to chase your dream when I didn’t know what I wanted. I only ever wanted you, but I didn’t know what I wanted out of life yet. I know it seemed simple, that I could just follow you, and we’d be fine, but it wasn’t for me. I was terrified. You never even considered what it would be like for me to leave—it kind of killed me. Maybe that was why I made you choose.”

  He peers up, puppy-eyed and apologetic through thick brows, and the corners of his mouth droop beneath his scruff. “I know you kept telling me there was a life for me there, but my world was small, Hail. It still is. That wasn’t the life I wanted. That was the life you wanted, and I figured if that was the case, then you were choosing not to include me in this dream of yours. It felt like you knew what was at stake, and you made your choice. You never asked me what I wanted.”

  My jaw hits the ground. It’s too much. It’s maybe the most honest thing he’s ever said to me. Even when I left, he allowed me to leave in a cloud of silence. We argued, sure, but it never made sense. He was mad; he was hurt, but I never knew why. He made me choose, and I always thought that was unfair. Now, I realize it wasn’t just about me leaving. It was about him needing as much help as I did to figure things out, and I never considered that.

  He continues, “It was childish for me to make you choose. I know that now. We could have compromised. We probably had other options, but we were so young. Things just happened, and we can’t take them back, but hell, I can’t imagine you thinking you made the wrong choice.”

  Maybe he thinks he’s complimenting me on my success, but I kind of hate him for it. It was never about right or wrong. Sure, I won the proverbial dream, but I also lost a whole hell of a lot, including him. I’m tempted to tell him but—

  “Haiillleeeyyyy!”

  Both of us turn around to face the entrance to the bar. I can see a stumbling CeeCee coming toward us with Brandon, whose arm is slung heavily over her shoulder.

  I cast a glance at Caiden, who apparently doesn’t seem to care what we’re witnessing because he’s back to staring at me, but he’s fiddling with his bottom lip with his left hand again. Thi
s time I notice the tattoo covering his knuckles that spells “true.” It’s distracting. I try to make a mental note to ask what word comes before it on his right hand, but I’m too busy rolling my eyes at his gawking.

  I turn to shout at my dubious friends. “I KNEW IT! I SO KNEW IT!”

  Brandon waves me off with his free hand and chuckles. “You know nothing, Baby Bird.”

  He offers no further explanation, and I’m still rattled by the man beside me. I can’t seem to appropriately respond as I see them stroll toward Brandon’s truck.

  “Cee, what about being my ride tonight?”

  “Whoops,” she hiccups and winks. I shake my head disapprovingly. “Sorry, Hails. I drank too much, and strapping Brandon here is going to give me a ride.”

  I roll my eyes. “Or do you mean you’ll be riding him?”

  All of them erupt in loud laughter, including Caiden. I meant it as an insult, but a joke works fine, too.

  “Oh man, you’re clever, Baby Bi—”

  I cut Brandon off with my head shaking in shame. I knew they couldn’t have dropped each other that easily. It’s all over their innate chemistry.

  “How am I supposed to get home now?” I shout.

  CeeCee giggles. “Caaaiiideennn,” she sings drunkenly. “Give Hailey a ride, will you?”

  Caiden doesn’t seem to think twice about it as he replies, “Of course.”

  So crisp. Polite, even.

  I want to punch him. I don’t know why. It’s irrational, I know. Maybe it’s because, when it comes to Caiden, it’s anything but easy for me.

  “Have a good night!” Brandon chirps, and I swear if he had a hat, he would tip it toward us in all his dapper, jerk-like glory.

  I’m fuming. I know my anger might be because of the gin, or the beer, or Caiden. Who cares? “I wanna go home.”

  “Huh?” Caiden asks, thrown by my words. We both leap at the sound of Brandon’s truck turning on and leaving the parking lot.

  “I can’t believe her right now. It’s like she planned this.”

  Caiden laughs, and I even hate how much I love the sound. It’s so much deeper than when we were kids, and it causes my skin to tingle. I hate it. I love it. No, no… I hate it.