Unveiling Ghosts (Unveiling Series, Book 3)
Page 9
“What?” I sat back, confused.
“You’re different. You don’t…”
“Different how?”
He shook his head, leaning forward and resting his arms on the top of his thighs, his hands dangling in between. “You were happier. Laughed louder. Smiled more. Now… now it’s almost like it takes effort. You only laugh and smile around me and your parents. It’s like you don’t trust anyone anymore. Remember that girl all those years ago who chased me to get me to talk to her? I miss her.”
I do, too.
I sat back and stared straight ahead. Hunter was right, I had changed. I wasn’t as trusting or willing to make new friends. But it wasn’t necessarily because I was scared; I just didn’t need anyone else. My parents and Hunter, as lame as it may sound, were my best friends. And I was perfectly happy with them.
But maybe Hunter wasn’t.
I never considered the fact that spending most of my time with him meant he was spending most of his time with me. He was a teenage boy; of course he wanted to hang out with other people. Hunter probably wanted guy friends to mess around with and girls to hook up with.
I felt like crying. I knew when we started high school that things might change, but I was hoping it would be for the better. Moments ago I was fantasizing about our transition from friends to something more; now I was wondering if we’d be going in the opposite direction.
“Hunter, you’re my best friend.”
He looked over at me, his lips tipped up into a smile that immediately fell when he saw the tears in my eyes. “Hey, hey.” He shuffled closer. “You’re my best friend, too.”
I was shaking my head. “I know I’m not as carefree as I once was.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
I kept going like he hadn’t spoken. “I know he hasn’t really done anything in a while. But I hated seeing him hurt you, and I hate seeing them ignore you. I don’t understand it. And I don’t understand why no one would help you. I—”
“Sherry. That’s not what I meant. I don’t… I’m not…” He blew out a frustrated breath. “I feel responsible. I don’t want to be the reason you can’t be who you were meant to be.”
“Who I’m meant to be? Who’s that?” I shook my head when he opened his mouth. “There was always going to be something that made me see the world differently. That’s just growing up.”
“I wish you didn’t have to grow up so fast,” he whispered before a heavy silence fell over us.
Taking a deep breath, I wrapped my hand around his. We both looked down at our joined hands resting on my leg, our sides now touching.
The new year was getting closer, the air crackling with tension as the announcer began counting down.
Twenty, nineteen, eighteen…
Hunter looked at my lips.
Seventeen, sixteen, fifteen…
I looked at his.
Fourteen, thirteen, twelve…
His gaze flew back to my eyes as he leaned in, a silent question lingering there.
Eleven, ten, nine…
I gave Hunter a small nod and moved my head closer.
Eight, seven, six…
“Sherry…” he murmured, his hand cupping my cheek.
Five, four, three, two…
Leaning into him, I let my eyes close.
All of a sudden, the door swung open. We jumped apart and my eyes widened, going to my mother standing in the entryway to the living room, a dopey smile on her face.
One…
“Happy New Year!” she hollered. “We made it.”
My father was chuckling as he shut the door behind him. “As you can see, your mother had an excellent time,” he said as he shrugged off his scarf and coat. My mom was now leaning against the wall, still smiling as her eyes fluttered shut. “C’mon, let me help you out of those.”
They flew back open. “Not in front of the children!” she shrieked.
We were all laughing as he clarified, “Just your scarf and coat, dear.” My dad leaned in to whisper something in her ear that made her blush.
“Ewww.” I shuffled around and looked at the TV.
“You heard that?” My mom sounded horrified.
“I’m just assuming,” I mumbled.
The laughter that followed was broken up by Hunter casually asking them why they were home early.
“She didn’t want the two of you to be alone ringing in the New Year.”
“How considerate,” Hunter grumbled. I smirked; my parents were completely oblivious as they started whispering again. I nearly choked when my gaze fell to Hunter’s lap, where he was discreetly trying to adjust his hard-on. He got up without looking at me and wished my parents a happy New Year, hugging them each in turn.
I was still trying to compose myself. We’d been about to kiss. That was what was going to happen, right? I had to suppress a moan. Because, yes, that was totally going to happen. And my parents ruined it. I hated them a little bit in that moment.
Even as I hugged them and participated in mindless chitchat, I could still feel the tingles. On my face, on my leg, on… well… other places. My eyes found Hunter’s. He looked just as frustrated—his shoulders were tense and his fists clenched. When Mom started nodding off, my parents said their goodnights and excused themselves.
“I should probably get going.” I was surprised, but then I saw his hand shift above his crotch, almost like it was begging to dive into his pants.
Great, now all I could think about was what was in his pants.
“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” My voice sounded nothing like my own.
I walked Hunter toward the door, where we shared an awkward hug, our butts sticking out to avoid pelvic contact, before he disappeared down the driveway.
Then I flew up to my room, shutting and locking the door. My heart was pounding and my whole body felt tight, like there was an energy inside wanting to break free.
My legs carried me toward my bed and I slowly got in. I couldn’t believe what I was about to do. The door was locked and the blinds were shut, leaving the entire room pitch-black, yet I still felt like I was about to be caught at any minute.
I forced myself to relax, breathing deeply and closing my eyes.
Before I’d even made up my mind to do so, my palm skated down my torso, lingering at the top of my yoga pants. Slipping my hand underneath them and my underwear, I touched myself for the first time. Eyes still shut, I imagined his groans and grunts as my fingers fumbled their way around.
Minutes later, and without really knowing what I was doing, I felt the tingles explode, radiating out to every part of me. My eyes fluttered open and my fingers slowed down, unable to take any more of this strange, overwhelming, and yet wonderful feeling. Trying to catch my breath, I looked toward the window, where Hunter lay just one house away.
I felt giddy, and sleepy, as I let my mind drift before slumber pulled me under. We may not have kissed, but it still felt like a damn good way to ring in the New Year.
16 years old
ONE KISS.
I blew out my candles as the wish floated through my mind. All I wanted was a kiss.
Me. Sherry. Miss Everyone-Thinks-I’m-A-Bitch wanted a kiss for her sixteenth birthday. And not just any kiss… but Hunter’s kiss. Hunter’s pink, soft lips on mine was all I wanted.
Well, not just one, but one to start. One that would hopefully lead to many, many more.
My first—and only—kiss from exactly two years ago had been so innocent I wasn’t even sure it counted. It had been perfect and everything I’d ever wanted, but it wasn’t what I was craving now. It had been a simple acknowledgement of how much Hunter and I cared about one another. Nothing romantic came from it.
Tonight that had to change, even if I initiated it myself, because I wanted more. Now.
And I didn’t just want lips. I wanted tongue and teeth and hands. I wanted to be so consumed by him I didn’t know where I was or who I was… I wanted my only thought to be of Hunter.
I often wondered if he was cataloging these things to use later. I certainly was. Masturbation became a fairly regular occurrence after any prolonged time spent with him.
It was incredibly nerve-racking to think about making the first move. The possibility of rejection, even it if was small, was enough to make me rethink the entire thing. But then I thought about his lingering hugs, his roaming hand, and the way his eyes did more than just look at me, they saw me. I thought about how he’d never had a girlfriend, or even kissed another girl—at least to my knowledge—and I realized maybe he was just as nervous. That boosted my confidence enough to make me believe I could really do this.
Slowly opening my eyes, I stared at the dessert in front of me: a simple vanilla cake with chocolate frosting and orange icing. My parents didn’t need to give me extravagant things—I could feel their love in the simplest of actions. I looked up into their smiling faces as my father took a picture before my mother pulled the cake toward her and began cutting pieces. They started whispering when they moved toward the counter to grab plates and napkins.
Hunter walked around the table and stood next to me, his tall frame hovering over mine. I was tall enough to not feel dwarfed, but short enough to still feel protected by him.
Both of us watched my parents move around each other effortlessly. My dad gently placed his palm on my mom’s back when he walked by, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And when they were standing side by side, she’d lean into him and kiss his cheek. Their actions almost seemed to be on autopilot, but not in a way that made it feel perfunctory. It was just their natural way of being, like taking a breath or a heartbeat; it happened automatically because it had to, because it kept them alive. Maybe there were times they took it for granted, but they always knew it mattered.
“Hey,” Hunter murmured. I looked up to see him staring at me, pure affection shining in his eyes. He slid his hand into mine and gave it a squeeze.
“Hi,” I whispered.
“Happy birthday.” I opened my mouth to respond when my parents moved toward us.
“Hunter, we’re so glad you’re here.” My mother offered him a warm smile and set his plate in front of him. She always made sure he knew he was wanted.
“Of course, Mrs. H.” He paused and looked down at me while my parents continued bustling around the kitchen. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” he whispered just for me. My breath caught in my throat as I thought about how to respond. But words seemed useless. And any words I wanted to say, I didn’t want to be said in front of my parents. So I settled for smiling and giving his hand a squeeze.
Then I quickly raced around the table and gave both of my parents a long hug, trying to infuse all the love I felt for them into such a simple action. “Thank you so much. I love you, guys.”
They were smiling at each other when I pulled back. “We love you too,” Mom said while Dad wrapped his arm around her.
“God, sixteen…” She trailed off in awe. “I feel old saying this, but really, where did the time go?”
They began reminiscing about my first birthday and all these small, random moments from my childhood that I didn’t even remember as the four of us devoured my mom’s homemade cake. The stories that included Bobby were easier to listen to than they had been a year ago or five years ago… and while I didn’t think time would ever heal that wound—how could it?—I did believe that time transferred some of the painful memories into happy ones. Time couldn’t take away our grief, but it could blanket it with the remembrance of the good parts of Bobby’s life.
The mood had shifted, some of the sadness outweighing the joy as we allowed ourselves a silent moment to miss him.
“Excuse me.” Hunter spoke softly and with reverence. My parents looked at him expectantly, hoping for a more upbeat topic of conversation. “I was wondering if I could steal Sherry away.”
They lit up.
My parents were right two years ago; Hunter saved them as much as he’d saved me. He could never replace Bobby, and their personalities couldn’t have been more different, but they looked at Hunter like a son… or a son-in-law?
I wasn’t sure which was weirder, to already be thinking about something that permanent with Hunter or to make him a pseudo part of our family and simultaneously want to date him.
Mom and Dad were far too excited to care either way. Because instead of scowling and giving him a lecture like most fathers would do, mine smiled wider. He trusted Hunter implicitly and I was sure in another time he would be selling me off to him in exchange for some goats.
“Of course, sweetie,” my mom answered, equally in love with my best friend.
“I’ll have her back in an hour.”
My father waved away his concern. “Take your time, son.”
Hunter gave a quick nod before grabbing my hand. My nerves skyrocketed. He probably thought I had developed a glandular condition based on how sweaty my palm was.
This was it. I had to make it happen.
Tonight.
No going back.
I took a deep breath and let him pull me out the door.
16 years old
Tonight.
I was finally going to kiss her. I couldn’t wait any longer. It would be physically impossible to deny myself her lips for another day.
Sherry’s warm hand was in mine and I was praying she couldn’t feel my thumping pulse. I’d buried my feelings for her for so long in the hopes they’d diminish so I could keep my best friend. But it didn’t work. They grew. And I was a fucking idiot to have thought they’d do anything else. Sherry was everything to me. There was no stopping this. Not that I really wanted to, because being in love with your best friend was as good as it got.
I just had to hope she felt the same way. That was my biggest fear.
I knew she wouldn’t be cruel. And I knew I wouldn’t be embarrassed about being shut down just for the sake of being rejected. But I’d be absolutely devastated if Sherry didn’t love me as much as I loved her. I’d be crushed and lost because once I put it all out there, there would be no going back. I’d lose the love of my life and my best friend. That was the only downside of being in love with your best friend: you gave them twice as much power to destroy you.
I was more than a little relieved when I felt how slick her palm was, betraying her calm demeanor.
I’d thought about kissing her a lot over the past two years, probably even longer than that, when we were hanging out on her couch or walking down the hallway at school.
Sometimes I made a pledge with myself: YOU MUST KISS HER IN ONE MINUTE. Period.
It never worked; I always chickened out.
Because she was the girl. There was no: There are plenty of other fish in the sea. Sherry was it. There was only one fish, and it was her. And I didn’t know what I’d do if she didn’t feel the same.
I guess I’d just swim along, all by myself in the great, big, empty ocean forever.
Okay, this analogy is getting weird…
The point was, I couldn’t keep being around her and not touch her in some way. I couldn’t look at her and force myself not to stare at her lips and wonder if they still tasted like strawberries, like they had two years ago.
I couldn’t pretend anymore.
We weren’t friends.
We’d never been just friends.
Even when we were kids and it was innocent, there was always something more. Not anything to do with sex, but just this general sense of rightness, of belonging to each other.
Maybe that was what a soul mate was, someone you fit with in every way possible.
Now felt like the time when we were finally able to let ourselves experience all of
it, and I was done pretending.
“Where are we going?” she asked, her tone light and knowing. We always took the same path—we could probably walk there in our sleep.
“You know where.” I quickened my pace, relishing in the sound of her laughter as she sped up with me. Minutes later, we were approaching the tagged building we had come to know so well.
Sherry brought her hand up and ran it over the familiar graffiti. “I think I could draw these from memory.”
I smiled. Surely it had to be a sign if our thoughts were mirroring one another’s.
“Me too.” I squeezed the hand still holding mine before, regretfully, letting her go so I could jump up and pull the ladder down.
“C’mon, you go up first. I promise I won’t let you fall.” I was teasing her, but I made my gaze lock on hers for a couple seconds longer. I’d never let her fall, in any circumstance. It felt different now, like I was already begging her to give this, give us, a chance. And when she gave me a small nod and reached for the rung, my hopeful brain translated that into her understanding.
She carefully maneuvered her way up until she reached the first landing. And oh, how I wished this was a romantic comedy where she slipped on the way up and I had no choice but to steady her with my hand on her ass. Why couldn’t shit like that happen in real life?
But no, she stayed steady all the way until she reached the roof. I followed her over and watched her wander around. Sherry loved it up here and she was always mesmerized by our small town. Now was no different. I usually joined her in staring out over the city, but right now I could only focus on her.
She turned around, her smile wide. “Why are you staring at me?” she asked, closing the distance and standing in front of me.
“Am I?” I reached for one of her hands and entwined our fingers. We’d held hands plenty of times, but never like this. Never this intimate. I fucking loved it. Her brows furrowed as she glanced down at our palms pressed snuggly against one another.
“I’m trying to figure it out.” My voice was low and serious.
“Figure what out?” she asked, nerves heavy in her voice.