by Anne Hansen
I shake my head and motion for him to come to me—to sit at the wide table where there are other students and teachers around us. The thought of being alone with Vin Moretti is a little too appealing…and absolutely terrifying.
Vin sets one shoulder heavily on the doorframe and sighs, then crooks his finger impatiently.
I hardly think about what I’m doing. I pick up my backpack and glance at the sign-out sheet. Vin scrawled our names and then ‘career center’ on the destination lines.
“Is the career center quieter?” I ask as we walk down the hallway. I glance sideways at his broad shoulders, his wide jaw, the dark hair that’s cut so close, it’s almost militaristic.
“We’re not going to the career center,” he says, walking so fast he’s forcing me to jog to keep up.
“Slow down. Literally, slow down, you’re gonna give me a heart attack,” I gasp.
He stops and finally looks at me, not through me like he’s been doing for weeks now. “This from the girl who beat out every other lifeguard at Silver Poplars in that crazy lake race?”
He means to tease me. I want to laugh. But his words bring up a sharp and clear memory. It’s like I can feel the sun on my scalp, the cool water buoying me, and the powerful stretch of my arms and legs as I pushed harder, faster, feeling stronger than I ever had before.
What Vin doesn’t know—what no one knows—is that I wasn’t racing to keep up with competitors or break any record.
It wasn’t pride, it wasn’t athleticism, it wasn’t even thrill.
I was swimming across that lake as fast as I could because I knew Vin was waiting on the other side.
We’d kissed a few times at that point, skinny-dipped, touched...but I wasn’t sure he was really mine. Every second I spent away from him was a second that I wouldn’t get to hold onto what we had and—maybe, if I was lucky—feel whatever we’d started get to grow into something so much more.
So I swam like crazy, like my life depended on it.
Or my heart. Like my heart depended on it.
It didn’t.
Vin told me later he’d only been taking it slow so he didn’t spook me, trying to respect the fact that I didn’t have the kind of experience he did. Which was sweet.
But ridiculous, because I wanted him so badly, it was clearly making me crazy.
And I let him know exactly how crazy by pulling him away from the cheering crowds and into the shadowy woods, where I hooked my legs around his waist and kissed him until our knees went weak and we tumbled on the pine needles. I’d never felt anything better than his hands running over my damp skin, the smell of pine mixing with the clean, sharp scent of him, his green eyes looking at me like he was hungry, and I was all he craved.
I remember the exact words he said.
“I was trying to take it slow because I thought good girls liked gentlemen.”
“I may be a good girl, but I’m no lady. Kiss me quick because I want it now. I want you now.”
That is the thought going through my head as I follow Vin out the double doors and into the stairwell where he turned his back on me the first day of school. He keeps going, through the outer door and into the chilly air.
The wind swirls in, and it smells the exact opposite of the stuffy, paper-filled, cleaning-product scrubbed school—this smell is fresh and inviting. It’s the smell of freedom.
“Come on,” he says, holding the door open.
I hug my books to my chest and glance back at the safety of the hallways and orderly classrooms where I’m finally starting to find my footing. Where I’m starting to settle down and belong.
The thing is, I’ve been so focused on getting things settled in my life, I’ve forgotten how much I love taking risks. How delicious is it to waste an afternoon with someone whose very presence makes your heart hammer and race.
I look at Vin and can see that he’s debating doing the this as much as I am. But he’s choosing to live on the edge, and he’s daring me to do the same.
Why?
What does it mean?
I take a deep breath of that clean, fresh air and push those questions down, let all the analyzing just stop.
“I’m coming,” I say, and I run out the door Vin holds open for me.
This day is getting more complicated by the second.
It started going out of control when I saw her this morning in the parking lot. I should have acted like I had no idea what she was talking about when she brought up her truck. What kind of loser does something decent for someone he cares about, then needs a big pat on the back for it?
Me, apparently.
The whole point was to take care of things for her without letting her know it was me.
I’m supposed to be staying out of her life. Letting her move on. The last thing I wanted was to get her tangled in all of my stupid shit.
Which leads me to this afternoon in Delani’s class. How hard would it have been to be a little more belligerent—just my normal asshole self? I could have sabotaged it all with barely any effort, but I stood aside and let Keira get assigned as my tutor. And even then, I could have agreed to sit in the shitty study hall room, across the table from her, and worked on my crappy Fitzgerald assignment.
Honestly, I could have used Keira’s help. Delani wasn’t impressed by my train-wreck of an in-class paper and her big red “See me after class” proved just how much she thought it blew.
So getting out my notebook and pencil like a good little student would’ve been smart. The thing is, I’ve never been known for making good decisions.
So I signed us out and talked her into skipping with me.
Now we’re roaring down the highway on this chilly afternoon in my Mustang. She’s rolled the window down and leaned her head back on the leather seat. She holds one hand out, letting it move with the whipping wind. Her dark hair, all curled like it was the night of the dance at Silver Poplars, blows back behind her. She has those gorgeous blue eyes closed, and her mouth is tilted up in a sweet smile.
Every day I do my best to avoid her as much as is humanly possible in school. Other than the hour I have to sit behind her and breathe in her perfume during Delani’s class, I dodge her like the plague. Leo made fun of me for using the copy of her schedule I got one of the office girls to lift so I could stay on opposite sides of the school whenever possible, but this isn’t some game.
This is self-preservation.
Because every second I’m with this girl makes me greedy for another one. And when I get too much of her, my mind blitzes, and we wind up speeding down the highway together after I convinced her to skip school.
“You won’t get in trouble,” I say finally. She opens her eyes slowly and gives me a sleepy look. That makes me want to pull over and drag her onto my lap, kiss her, touch her, tell her how much I’ve missed her. Instead, I keep my eyes straight ahead, on the road. “For skipping. Rogers never marks attendance or checks to make sure anyone goes where they say they’re going. They usually put all the lost causes in his class anyway.”
“That’s why you’re in there?” she asks, her voice soft.
I nod. “And why I’m pissed you’re in there with me now,” I add.
“You think you’re a lost cause, but I’m not?” I can’t tell from her grin if she’s teasing me or not.
“I’m not joking with you, Keira. Eastside isn’t good enough for you. Ridgedale isn’t good enough for you. Your truck isn’t good enough for you. I’m sure as hell not good enough for you. I can’t control where you live or go to school or what you drive—only because you won’t let me—but I do have some say over your reputation.” I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles go white.
Keira knits her eyebrows together. “So...why did you ask me to play hooky with you?”
“This is the one and only day you’ll be tutoring me, so I thought I’d make it good.” I pull off the highway and we drive down by the river, where I pull onto the makeshift gravel lot. “Tomorrow I’m telling Delani we’r
e done.”
She sits up so fast, her seat belt jerks tight and snaps her back against the seat.
“What?” Her mouth drops open. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about? I’m assigned to tutor you. You need my help to pass English.”
“I’m not an idiot,” I lash out, struck with this dumb fear that she might fight to keep this going no matter how bad an idea it is. “I already lined up a junior to write my papers for me. She’s got samples of my work, she’ll be able to dumb my papers down just enough to be believable and still get me a passing grade.” I watch the color drain from Keira’s face. “I should have done this last year, too, but I didn’t give a shit about passing then. Now, I can’t wait to get out, and I’ll do whatever I need to make that happen.”
She fumbles with the seatbelt latch, finally jabbing the button hard enough to release it, then swings the door open and storms onto the bank. The river curves in front of us, the water harsh and such a dark blue, it’s really gray. I love it out here, the way it feels open and wild, the way the wind blows harder, the air smells cleaner. Everything is more honest by the river.
Maybe that’s why I took Keira here today. Maybe I want her to understand the truth.
She has her arms crossed over her chest and is squeezing them tight, like she’s trying to keep warm. I take my coat off and drape it over her shoulders, but she shrugs it off and hands it back to me.
“If I’m not even good enough to sit across from you and help with some stupid English assignments, I’m sure as hell not good enough to lend your jacket to,” she says, all snippy.
She’s pretty as hell when she’s a little pissed.
I put the jacket back on her shoulders. “I’m not letting you catch pneumonia just because you wanna be a stubborn ass.”
“When are you going to get it, Vin?” She looks at me, her eyes narrowed. “You can’t be part of my life and not part of my life at the same time. You have to choose.”
I tug the jacket closer around her and watch her stop shivering. She has no idea how much I want to be the guy who takes care of every little problem she faces.
If it wasn’t dangerous for her, I would be that guy, no questions.
“I choose to do what I can without running the risk of hurting you,” I say, and she whirls on her heel and stomps down to the muddy bank.
I follow her, hands in my pockets to keep them from pulling her close. When I’m by her side, I look at her profile. She’s beautiful, but so angry, it makes her features look frozen.
“What happened to us?” she asks, her voice caught by the rising wind. “This summer…you and me…there was nothing we couldn’t say to each other. There was zero awkwardness, Vin. I felt like you were the one person who could love the real me, the me who might turn into a basket case when all the stress I’d been dealing with finally came to a—”
Instead of finishing what she’s about to say, she hiccups on a sob.
Self-control be damned.
I rush over to her, pulling her tight against me. I let her grab the soft cloth of my t-shirt in her fists and bury her face just over my heart. Screw my stupid fucking rules about not letting her get too close. I run a hand over her hair as she cries, hard, never once lifting her face up to look at me.
I have no idea how much time goes by. It occurs to me that Gio might need me at the shop, and two words go through my brain as soon as that thought does: Fuck him.
My uncle can wait. My mother can hold dinner, Leo can chill at the drag strip, my father can call my brother if he needs help at the garage.
No one—not a single person—is more important than Keira.
By the time her sobs have settled into these sad little whimpers, the sun is dipping low over the snaking river. I pull her back, rubbing my thumbs over her temples.
“Hey, hey. Look at me.” She does, her blue eyes bloodshot and rimmed with black makeup that runs down her face. She’s never looked more vulnerable or more beautiful. “You okay?”
She nods and starts to wipe her fingers under her eyes. “I must look like a hot mess.” She glances at my shirt, bites her lip, and groans. “I think I got snot on your shirt. My God, this is freaking embarrassing.”
“Shut up,” I say softly, tugging her hands down from her face. I pull up the bottom of my t-shirt and use it to swipe under her eyes, getting off most of the gunk. “You look damn beautiful. Same as you do every second of every day.”
“You’re just being nice because I cried all over you like some freak,” she protests, trying to step back. I hook a finger through one of her belt loops and tug her closer; she doesn’t resist. “I have no clue where that came from. I mean, I haven’t cried like that since Christmas...my mother loved Christmas so much and the memories were just…too heavy. Too sad. But the move, losing my car…you. I held up through all of it.”
“Right. And you’re confused about why you only had a nervous breakdown just now?” I smile at her, and she smiles back. For a second.
Then she pushes me away, shakes her head, and frowns. “Vin…what is this? What are we doing?”
“I think you’re recovering from a meltdown just in time to head to my house. It’s Wednesday. Lasagna night. I gotta warn you—my mother will attempt to feed you until you explode. But you look like you can use a home-cooked meal.”
“No.” She puts her hands up through her hair, holding it by the roots as she stares into the churning water of the river. “I can’t. You can’t. We can’t just go from not talking, to being okay, to me sobbing while you hold me, to dinner together. Today’s given me a severe case of emotional whiplash. Honestly, the last few weeks have. And just when I start to feel like ‘okay, he’s not mine, it’s time to move on’ … invitations to eat your mother’s home cooked lasagna?”
She stares at me, and I rub the back of my neck, looking for an answer that makes sense.
There really isn’t one.
“I’m kidding myself,” I say, my voice so low, it forces her to come closer just to catch my words. “I know that, Keira. And before I drop you home tonight, I’ll show you exactly why you need to trust me when I tell you that you’re better off staying away from me. After tonight? We’re through in every way. No tutoring. No hanging out. I’m going to go down to the guidance office and do whatever I can to try and get out of Delani’s first period. But tonight—”
She swallows so hard I can see her neck move. “Tonight?”
“Tonight I just want a taste of what could’ve been. If you weren’t who you are, Keira McCabe. If you weren’t too damn good for a loser like me. If you’d grown up around here, if you could accept me for who I am and might always be—I want to live that ridiculous fantasy for one night.” I look right into her eyes. “And then I’m gonna smash it. I’m telling you I’ll do that for you, to protect you. But, Keria, you gotta know—”
She takes a step toward me, then one more. Her hand reaches up and rests on the side of my face. “Know what?” she whispers.
I don’t cry, ever.
Crying, being sensitive, it just isn’t my thing, never has been. But I’m blinking hard as hell to hold it back when I say the next words.
“Know that pushing you away breaks my heart into a million goddamn pieces. And, trust me, I can feel every damn one jabbing me from the inside out, every second of the day.”
Before she can respond to that ridiculous confession, I stalk back to the Mustang, waiting for her to follow and tell me that if I wanted this little fantasy, I should have manned up a few weeks back instead of walking out on her. That it’s all or nothing when it comes to being with her. That she’s seen the light and is moving on to better, stronger, smarter guys.
Because that would sting pretty damn bad, but it would be a relief, too—as much as it would hurt to let her go, nothing could compare to the pain of being close to her again for one night. She’s like an addiction for me—once is never enough.
So there’s a lot going through my head when she comes to the pas
senger door, slides into her seat, and announces, “I love lasagna.”
I pull out, pretty sure I’m making a huge mistake and not giving a single damn.
***
“Vinnie, is that you? I swear to God, if you’d walked in two minutes later, I would have taken this wooden spoon to your backside, I don’t care how old you—” My mother stops her tirade the second she sees Keira. She looks from me to her and back again.
Keira tries to backtrack, but my hand is right at the small of her back, mostly to let her know my mother is just kidding about the wooden spoon.
Mostly kidding.
She’d never use it on Keira, of course. She might give me a few hard swats, though.
“Ma, this is Keira McCabe. She’s new to town, and she needs a hot meal.” I try to keep it simple.
My mother is already clucking her tongue and dragging Keira to the table. “A hot meal? More like three. It’s okay, I’ll give you take-home containers. Look how skinny you are! Young girls today just don’t eat enough. Come here, sweetheart, we’re gonna get you nice and curvy.”
Keira looks at me, her big blue eyes bugged out of her head. I smile helplessly and come sit next to her. “My ma can be pretty intense,” I murmur.
She gives me a look that’s borderline freaked out. “You think?” she whispers.
My mother is already hurrying back, scooping a huge portion of lasagna onto Keira’s plate and bringing her a glass of ice water. She leaves with the pan.
“Hey, Ma, what about me?” I ask, but she ignores me.
“You can have some of mine,” Keira offers, looking at the tower of cheese, noodle, meat, and gravy like she’s not sure where to start.
My brother bursts into the dining room with my dad, both of them filthy with oil and smelling like a garage.
“You’re late,” my mother scolds. “Clean shirts, wash up, be back here in one minute. You hear me? One minute!”
My brother eyes Keira with clear interest as he turns on his heel and heads to his room. He moved out of the main house years ago for an apartment over the garage and then his own small house, but my parents keep the childhood room we shared and our sister Nicki’s the same as the day we were last in them. Just as I’m thinking of my sister and all the ballet crap piled in her room, she flies through the door.
