Unwritten

by Alex Rosa

  Caiden looks off toward the sound. “I gotta get back to best friend duties at some point. Brandon and CeeCee are in a rough patch.”

  I sensed this earlier, and it kind of irks me that Caiden knows and I don’t. “Why’s that?”

  His eyes shoot back to me, smirking again. “CeeCee leads Brandon on, messes with his head, and he gets all confused when the lines get muddled. It sends them both into a frenzy. Usually, it ends up with them dropping each other for a month or so until they’re back at it again.”

  “I’m sure CeeCee doesn’t mean to lead him on.”

  Caiden snorts, “The CeeCee we know can be vindictive when she wants. Sometimes I think she does it just to torture the guy to make him pay for cheating on her.”

  “He did what?”

  Caiden tugs on his bottom lip. “You’ve been gone a long time, Hails.”

  A wave of nerves tumble through my body. “I know.” I know. I know.

  I see Gabe heading back toward us, and that seems to be the cue for Caiden to leave as he turns away.

  “Where are you going?” I ask, and I can’t tell if I’m trying to instigate another battle or if it’s because I care.

  He doesn’t turn around. He just shouts back with a waving arm, “To get another drink,” before disappearing through the crowd.

  “That could have gone smoother, I guess,” Gabe says as he extends my beer to me.

  I sigh, “It went as well as it was gonna go, I think.” I feel eyes all around me, like little pinpricks against the back of my neck. I reach for Gabe’s hand, tugging him toward the dark forest. “Come with me. Let’s go talk over there.”

  He doesn’t hesitate, not even for a second. We stroll through the woods. It gets dark and darker before any moonlight shines through the trees until we reach the clearing to the lake. I stop just short of the edge of the trees.

  “That’s awesome that your sister got into NYU, by the way.” I say, trying to pick up the fluidity of the conversation. I take a long sip of beer as I watch him respond.

  “Right?” he exclaims proudly. “I was never really home during college unless it was for a long weekend or holiday. Figured, now is as good a time as ever to try and be a better brother. I like the idea of her going to college where I am, too. I remember college and everything I got into. I don’t even want to think of my sister going. But at least I’ll feel better if I’m just a quick cab ride away.”

  I chuckle at the sincerity. “You’re nothing like I remember you in high school.”

  He says two things, and both pluck different strings to my well-being. “We all grow up. Well, actually, you’re kind of exactly how I remember you.”

  “How’s that?” I ask, and my tone must imply something I wasn’t aware of because he takes a solid step forward, putting him inches away from my face.

  My heart thumps and I think: yes, kiss me.

  I want to feel something, anything. I’ve felt empty too long, and Gabe, even for just getting to know him, gives me hope that this thing I can’t seem to shake could be cured.

  “You’re still as honest, funny, and clumsy, but…” He pauses, licking his bottom lip before going on. “You’re a whole hell of a lot prettier than I remember. Which is crazy, ‘cuz you were always really pretty.”

  His words teeter on cheesy, but I bask in it, letting a smile spread across my face as he inches closer.

  I close my eyes, eager for the contact and still hopeful. I could make this work if I wanted. I can do anything I set my mind to.

  He presses his lips to mine, and it’s this lightning-quick yank that ignites in my heart—and then it pushes and pulls, like I’m fishing for that feeling. I’m almost there, but it doesn’t come. It’s like the hook I cast doesn’t catch, and that empty feeling is still there when I reel it back.

  It’s always like this with everyone. I’ve kissed many men to try and cure me of this feeling, but none seem to stick. They don’t spark or ignite much of anything inside me.

  There was a second where I thought Gabe could be my chance. He has all the ingredients of home, yet all the excitement of something new.

  Once, I dated a guy for a whole three months in hopes the spark would suddenly ignite, but it never did.

  All of my attempts at relationships feel like this. An empty kiss that will never compare to what I had. Caiden’s ruined everything. But I gave it my all.

  Gabe’s lips stroke mine, and the tiniest bit of spice hits my lips as his mouth gives way, coaxing me to open for him, allowing his tongue to explore and taste me. It’s sweet, and nice, but my heart doesn’t race, and the butterflies in my gut flutter, but it’s not enough.

  Ugh. Why is it never enough?

  My heart deflates in defeat but gives me a beat of hrumph as if to say, “We’re trying.”

  That we did, heart. That we did. And what a beautiful, handsome try it was.

  I lift the corner of my mouth for Gabe as he pulls away slowly.

  He’s smiling, and it’s enough to have me wanting to scream how frustrating this is for me. Gabe could be perfect, but something inside me won’t let him be.

  “I’m sorry I’m leaving in a couple days. I was going to tell you…” he breathes out.

  I lean forward, shaking my head, basking in his attention anyway. Maybe none of it is enough, but this moment can be mine. “It’s okay. I meant it when I said let’s keep in touch. I could always use more friends.”

  His lips twitch at hearing my words, and there is a comical curve to them. He must think the use of friends is sort of ironic now that we’ve just kissed, but little does he know that I’m a useless romantic attempt for him now, even if I wish I wasn’t.

  “Do you ever find yourself in New York with writing and stuff?”

  I nod. “My publisher is there. I haven’t been yet though, but it’s possible I could find a reason to.” My gut knots at this blatant flirting. I don’t want to give Gabe hope, but the words flow too easily. I try to trick my brain into thinking maybe this is something I could try again, meaning him, but my heartbeat falls to a flat rhythm at the thought.

  “That would be aweso—”

  A loud sound of hollers and cheers breaks through Gabe’s words. I shake my head a moment, dissecting it, and find a sense of familiarity to the sounds instantly. That’s when another rounding “Yeaah!” rumbles through the trees.

  A fight. Someone is fighting, and I have my money on who is involved.

  Some things never change.

  I lift my chin to Gabe and use this as my escape. “I—we have to get back. Something is happening at the party. I have to go check on my friends.”

  Gabe blows out an exasperated breath, and I don’t blame him, but he must know what baggage I come with as he says, “Okay.” He doesn’t hesitate pressing one last kiss to my lips before letting me walk away.

  I force a smile as I trot away, leaving Gabe at the lake’s edge. He isn’t upset, or at least I don’t think so. He’s almost smitten as he smiles back, shrugs, and chugs his beer as he watches me break into a sprint toward the party.

  When I’m a safe distance away, I heave in a heavy dose of oxygen, wondering how I’m going to handle what lies behind me, and how I’m going to handle what I’m about to face in front of me.

  Another round of hollers and goading cheers comes from the crowd as I get closer, and I pick up speed.

  My prediction is that I’m about to find Brandon in a fistfight with John Walden, the guy CeeCee uses to make Brandon jealous. It’s the most logical scenario, but when my eyes collide with something I never saw coming, I gasp.

  Caiden and Brandon are full-on throwing punches at each other.

  I try for that leveling breath again, but I can’t seem to pull in enough air this time as I make my way to them, shoving through the watching crowd.

  Fights between best friends, Caiden and Brandon, are not unheard of, but it usually means someone got a bit too personal. And the only solution these oafs seem to find when it comes to
a man-to-man issue is to get physical.

  “Stop it!” I shout indignantly once I make it to the front, fuming at the fact that Brandon’s nose is bleeding and Caiden’s beautiful bottom lip is cut and swollen.

  Both men… err, boys, stop their circling, but keep their fists raised high as they both turn to face me.

  I must admit: I’ve never been able to stop a fight so suddenly in my life.

  Brandon blurts out into the humming party silence with, “He started it.”

  CeeCee appears, looking as frustrated as I feel, her hair flying as she shakes her head with each irate word. “It doesn’t matter who started it, you’re both idiots.”

  Brandon and Caiden both grunt, turning back toward each other.

  Partygoers start to go back to minding their own business, going back to conversations and drinking now that all the action is over.

  I even fling a look over my shoulder in time to see that Gabe has rejoined the party with the same guy I saw earlier. His eyes dart to mine once, but offers nothing for me to dwell on other than a handsome smile.

  CeeCee brings my attention back to my idiot friends as she says, “I think you two have had enough party. I’m taking Brandon home. Hails, do me a favor and take Caiden home, too, would you?”

  It’s not a question; it’s a polite demand. Brandon and Caiden must have ridden here together. She tugs on Brandon’s burly arm, but it isn’t enough to deter Brandon from pointing a deliberate finger into Caiden’s chest as he says, “Get your shit together, man,” before following CeeCee.

  Caiden wipes at his lip, his eyes angry, but there isn’t a fight there anymore. It’s almost like he agrees.

  I take a couple strides toward him. “Let’s get you home.”

  He doesn’t argue; he just follows me silently out of the party, far from the glow of the bonfire until we reach my rental car.

  He climbs in, and so do I. It takes five minutes of heavy silence as we follow the dirt path to the main road before he says, “Sorry.”

  I jerk my head toward him for a quick glance and then back at the road. “It’s fine. What were you and Brandon fighting about, Caid? It’s not like you guys to be at each other like that—”

  “—You. We were arguing about you.”

  The response stuns me, and I try to focus on the tiny white lines on the road rather than allow myself to ask more questions in regard to that.

  “Did you have a lot to drink?” I ask, changing tack.

  “I didn’t get into a fight with him because I’m drunk, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  I’m not, but I choose not to speak anymore. I’m too scared of the truth. Caiden’s frustration with me is building as much as mine is with him. The only difference is that when the frustration builds with me, I’m the one that wants to be more closed off, but with Caiden, he becomes more expressive with his words, as if he can’t contain them. It was always those elements that balanced us. That push and pull that kept us level, him pushing me to talk when I needed it, and him learning when words aren’t needed.

  It doesn’t take me long to pull into his long, winding driveway, seeing as he lives less than a mile from my house. The trees that line his driveway are more overgrown than I remember, but it’s also hard to pick out the details in the darkness.

  As we get closer, I can see that the porch lights are on, illuminating the front of the old rustic house: dark wood, one story, like a hidden haven in the woods, and once a haven for my mind.

  “How are your parents?” I ask as we wind down the path.

  “Fine. In Florida, doing what they do best by ignoring the world.”

  Caiden’s parents retired to Florida right after we graduated high school. His family was always so different than mine. Growing up in my household, we were forced to mingle with each other and talk, but Caiden’s family were the eat in silence types. His parents forced him to grow up too fast, and mine were always willing to feed into my imagination. He’s the yin to my yang, really.

  We’re also both the only child. We understand what it means to need someone to be your best friend and your playmate.

  In a way, it was almost inevitable how we both ended up so tied to each other. Since the age of six, I’ve never known a life without him.

  It’s also no wonder how it’s become impossible for me to find someone to fill that void.

  I slow onto his gravel driveway to the garage, remembering how his parents were always nice to me, but it was nothing to how my parents, or most importantly, my mom, treated Caiden. He was like one of our own household.

  Caiden’s parents always talked about wanting to leave PineCrest to be near the beach and live out their lives in the sun. Even then, Caiden never wanted to leave. I should have seen that as a sign.

  When his parents left, they gave Caiden the house, nearly everything in it, and retired to Florida, leaving him to live his life.

  No one had any doubt that he’d manage just fine, especially me. He had a steady job, and we were both attending classes at the junior college an hour away. Life was good. Life was simple.

  Not anymore.

  I pull the parking brake, turn the car off, and decide I better see Caiden inside. If I’m this rattled by the evening, then he might be, too.

  “Let me walk you to your door. You okay?”

  “How romantic of you to offer, Hailey.”

  I shoot him a scowl, but he’s smiling.

  “Stop looking at me like that,” I quip.

  I open my door, walk around the front, and watch him stumble more unsteadily out of my car than I’d expected. Yep, probably a good idea I make sure he gets inside safe.

  I can still care, can’t I?

  I fight the urge to touch him or help him. Instead, I lead the way up the few steps to his porch.

  “Caiden, where are your keys?” I ask.

  I notice he’s stopped at the top step, leaning against the post, which puts him closer to me than I realize when I swivel around to face him.

  “Did you kiss him?” he asks back, slicing the mood, his voice low and solemn.

  He’s looming over me, eyes pleading and hot, his body languid from his drinking.

  “Caiden, stop. Just gimme your keys.”

  “You did, didn’t you?”

  I shake my head, trying to hide the burning guilt singeing every corner of my being as I stick my hand out, palm up while we stand on the porch that has haunted my dreams. We’re nearly nose to nose as I look up into his bottomless forest-green eyes.

  I want to tell him that it doesn’t matter because he’s ruined everything. That even if I did get a kiss from the jock in high school, and even though his kiss was warm and inviting, I felt nothing, absolutely nothing, and it’s all his fault.

  “Keys, please.”

  His jaw sets sternly as he takes a step back, pushing his pelvis forward, eyes dopey but pissed off again. “They’re in my pocket, Hails. Help a drunk guy out, would you?”

  The bold move throws me, and I wonder if this attitude shift is what got him into a fight in the first place. “You’re being such an ass tonight.”

  “I can’t believe you kissed him,” he retorts.