It's Our Secret

by W. Winters

  “I’m not upset,” she says but the words come out sounding more like a question, her eyes searching mine.

  “Ever since we walked in here, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” I tell her. “Like you’re on edge and waiting for something bad to happen.” I stand my ground and the faint light from the sole window in the room casts a shadow of my form over Allison.

  “Bad things always happen,” she says after a moment of consideration. “Whether you wait for them or not.”

  “You look scared, Allie, and I don’t like it.”

  “I am scared,” she confesses in a hoarse whisper.

  “I know my mother looks like shit, but I promise she’s not as scary as she looks,” I joke and she finally breaks a smile although the second she does, she closes her eyes and her face crumples. Goddamn, it hurts. It hurts to see her like this. It’s even worse because I don’t know how to make it better.

  The bed groans, protesting as I sit on the edge and pull her small body into my arms. I don’t talk as her shoulders shake. I just kiss her hair and rub her back.

  Her body molds to mine for a small moment. A tiny but significant moment where she lets it out.

  I’d swear she was crying if she didn’t peek up at me with glossy eyes but not a tear leaving her. “I’m okay.” She mouths the words more than speaking them and pulls away from me.

  My fingertips brush over her shoulders and she catches my hand in hers as she sits cross-legged on the bed. “I just …” She doesn’t finish and shakes her head instead.

  “Is it because of your mom?” I ask her. It’s all I can think of. There wasn’t a damn thing said that seemed to set her off. It was after the silence in the car and the time to think. Sometimes our inner thoughts are our worst demons.

  “No,” she says with a sad smile and sniffles. She gives me a smile and even though the light in her eyes is dimmed, she almost looks normal. Like she can bandage up her pain and hide it. I suppose that’s what she’s used to and my body tenses as I debate what to do. Push her for more, not let her hide? Or just try to ease the pain and go along with this facade. I don’t know what the hell to do, but I’m terrified she’s going to push me away.

  Her thumb brushes along the knuckles of my hand.

  “I think I do want to text her, though,” she says and swallows. The nervousness in her voice reflects in her eyes. She chews on her lower lip and searches my eyes again.

  It looks like she’s lying.

  That’s exactly what it looks like.

  I don’t know why or what’s gotten to her, but she’s fucking lying to me.

  “You should,” I say absently and let her hand fall as I walk back to the dresser. “Unless she’s like my mom, in which case, fuck it.”

  “It took a lot for you to go to her.”

  I only nod at Allie’s words. I don’t look behind me as I slip into sweatpants even though I can hear her crawling on the bed.

  “I would say I’m proud of you, but who am I to say that?” she says sarcastically. That protective armor of hers is sneaking up again.

  “It makes me feel good that you’re proud,” I tell her bluntly.

  Her gaze catches mine for a moment before she rubs the exhaustion from her eyes.

  “I only did it because the shrink said to,” I tell her.

  “You still did it,” she says softly, so soft I almost didn’t hear but then she raises her voice to add, “It’s hard to go through with things sometimes.”

  “Like what things?” I ask but she doesn’t answer.

  I wait a while, looking through the pile of binders on the nightstand until I find the one with the menu in it. She still hasn’t answered, so I drop it.

  “You want to split something?” I ask and she nods weakly.

  “I’m not too hungry, but if you order fries I’ll probably eat some … or all of them.” The small bit of humor forces the start of a smile on my face and I pick up the phone to place the order.

  A burger with all the fixings and two orders of fries.

  Hanging up the phone, I still don’t feel right. I never thought bringing Allie out here would wind up like this. With me feeling A-fucking-okay and her looking like she’s been beaten up.

  “Thanks for coming with me,” I tell her as she picks at something on the pajama pants she slipped on while I was ordering food. She lies on the bed, stretching out and tells me it’s been a blast, again making the tense air lighter. She’s good at that. Good at playing things off like they don’t matter. Even now while she’s breaking down right in front of me.

  “Can I ask you something, Allie?” I say and then turn around to see her texting something. She doesn’t stop until she hits send and then looks up at me.

  “Whatever you want.” Before I can say another word, the screen of her phone lights up and pings. She tries to ignore it but on the second ping, she has to look down to silence her phone.

  “I can wait,” I say but she only shakes her head in response, tossing her phone onto the nightstand with a heavy breath and tired eyes.

  Something is killing her inside. And it fucking hurts that she’s hiding it from me still.

  “What is it you wanted to ask?” she says with a soft and kind voice, one that begs for mercy. Our eyes lock and there’s a shift between us. One of vulnerability. One seeking refuge in me.

  “I just don’t want you to ever lie to me.” I don’t know why that’s what comes out. But it’s all I’ve got for her. “You don’t have to tell me shit,” I begin but pause when her expression falls and she fails to hide the sadness there. “You don’t have to tell me shit, but don’t lie to me.”

  She nods once and then agrees in a small voice, “That’s not really a question but … No lying. Can do.”

  “You all right?”

  “Yeah,” she says but doesn’t look me in the eyes as she pulls the covers back.

  “And that’s the truth?” I ask her, reminding her of the assurance she just made.

  “As all right as I can be,” she says and then slowly raises her eyes to mine. “Just a lot of things happened when I was younger, and something reminded me of a promise I made but almost broke.”

  “What promise?”

  “Can we just eat and go to sleep?” she asks in return and chances a quick glance at me, again picking at some nonexistent fuzz on her pants.

  “It’s not that late,” I tell her out of impulse. It can’t be any later than nine.

  “How about we just cuddle and watch something funny?” she asks, and her voice is stronger, more hopeful.

  “A comedy? I’m always down for that.”

  Crawling into bed beside her feels right. Like that’s what I’m supposed to do right now. Before I even have a chance to wrap my arm around her waist and pull her into me, she’s already nestling her ass into my crotch and getting comfortable.

  She reaches behind her, looking back at me and takes the remote off the nightstand. Before getting back into position she gives me a quick peck and then picks up my hand in both of hers.

  “Your hands are so small,” I say absently as she traces the lines on my hand with the tip of her finger. It’s soothing and gentle, but it stops when she kisses the tips of my fingers like I did with hers.

  “I wish things were different,” she whispers. There’s a sincerity there, a fear too.

  “Like what? My mom?”

  She shakes her head and settles her back against me, letting my hand fall to her waist.

  “Just circumstances,” she says without looking back.

  With the remote in hand, she searches the channels while I watch her. The light from the television brightens her face.

  I see every detail. There are moments in time that don’t seem like they mean anything at all when they happen. Moments that hold no significance at the time.

  But later, those moments are burned into your memory.

  The way the light hits her hair, the way she blinks away the tears that threaten to fall. The way she sm
iles up at me with the sound of some movie playing on the television in the background. Some moments are burned into your memory forever, and maybe it’s because deep inside we wish it could stay like this. With her nestled in my arms, knowing she’s safe and that nothing bad is going to happen tonight.

  There are times in life

  There are times in life when you run toward something.

  And there are times you run away.

  Neither choice is shameful.

  But either way, you’re running.

  25

  Allison

  “Sam?” I call out her name again and my voice echoes in the empty hallway.

  There’s no one else around. The deserted halls of the school mock me as I move from room to room looking for her. “Sam,” I barely whisper her name.

  It feels odd as I open the doors. Almost like they’re expecting me, since they open so easily. They creak open slowly though, making me wait as I hold my breath.

  Each room gives me nothing. They’re all empty and dark and every time it scares me to move beyond the doorframe. So, I just look in and whisper her name. Quietly, praying she’ll hear me.

  Door after door, I keep moving through the hall. Waiting to see her. I can picture how she used to sit on top of her desk, cross-legged with her book in her lap. I keep waiting to see her there smiling back at me. But there’s nothing. Just empty rooms, each one darker than the next. The halls grow cold and I forget why I need her.

  I thought I was following her. I swear I heard her call for me.

  She needs my help. The reminder makes my body freeze as a chill flows over me and makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I can feel it. Deep down in my gut, the pain twists and turns, writhing into a coil that crawls up my spine.

  She needs me, and I’m failing her.

  The last door opens before I touch the knob. The light flickers on and off and then settles dimly in the center of the room. On Sam. But she’s not seated on the desk. She’s slumped against the wall, sitting on the floor by the closed, dark window.

  Her eyes are sad and her face hollowed.

  The darkness around her makes her seem pale and colorless.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

  My body jolts upright as the silent scream tears through me.

  My heart races and sweat covers my body. I can hardly hear Dean as he grips me harder, staring at me and pushing the hair out of my face. I can’t see or hear anything other than Sam.

  It was like I was really there.

  Like she was right there.

  “Allison,” Dean says, his voice piercing through the memory. “Are you okay?”

  He’s breathless, his fingers digging into my shoulder and his dark gaze pinning me in place. It takes me a long second before I realize he’s here with me. He’s here now. His palm brushes against my forehead again, pushing the loose strands of hair away from my face. He’s so warm and my body’s freezing.

  I blink away the vision of the night terror and try desperately to calm my breathing as his hold loosens and I bring the covers up closer to my neck.

  Her voice was so clear.

  My breathing won’t calm. My chest heaves violently as I wipe my eyes and pull away from him. She was right there. Sam was right there.

  “Talk to me,” Dean commands me but that’s just not possible.

  Slowly, my heart calms.

  “You were having a nightmare,” Dean tells me like I don’t know what happened. “It was just a nightmare.”

  My head nods of its own accord as I slip back beneath the covers, seeking their warmth.

  I can still feel the cold metal of the doorknob.

  “Sometimes I have bad dreams,” I tell Dean. To stop his questioning.

  “About what?”

  The words slip from me immediately. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  I haven’t had a dream like that in a long damn time.

  I haven’t fallen asleep so easily in just as long.

  “Are you okay?”

  He’s asked me that so many times in the last twelve hours.

  “I’m fine,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” he tells me and it’s only then that his expression comes into focus.

  My heart melts, slowly but with a heat that’s undeniable. “I just want to make sure you’re all right,” he says as he brushes my hair from my face. In this moment, I’m weak with want for him and his touch.

  I didn’t know until this day what I’d do for him and how much he meant to me.

  Maybe that’s why she came back to remind me.

  To remind me of the promise I made to her and why I’m here.

  “I’m fine,” I tell him. I know it’s a lie when I say it. A lie and a broken promise I’ve only just made. I should feel guilty. But I don’t. The other promise is more important.

  I don’t feel guilty while I cup his cheek in my hand and brush my lips against his.

  Not while I let him hold me.

  Not even as he whispers he loves me into my hair when he thinks I’ve fallen asleep. And that’s what it is. Love. I feel it too. I’m not blind to it. I even accept it although I can’t have it. I can’t have Dean. This has gone on for far too long.

  It’s not okay to be okay.

  That would be the worst tragedy.

  26

  Dean

  “Bottoms up!” Kev says over the sound of the music echoing off the walls of the room. The bass pounds through my veins as I toss the shot back. Partially to let go, partially out of anger.

  Allison fucking ghosted. Hasn’t been to her classes, isn’t returning my texts. The second we got back here, she left me high and dry.

  My fist clenches around the empty shot glass as the whiskey burns down my throat.

  I should have known better than to pretend she was fine.

  I should have seen this shit coming.

  “Ahh,” James hisses as he shakes his head, slamming the glass down on the coffee table. His face is scrunched even as he yells out, “Whoo!” as if he’s having the fucking time of his life.

  And maybe the other assholes here are. As each glass hits the table, everyone around me seems lighter, happier, ready to party. That’s what this is. A party.

  The air from my lungs leaves me as Kev’s hand pounds on my back.

  “You my wingman tonight?” he asks me, lowering his face to mine as I hunch over the countertop. I follow his gaze to the set of brunettes across the room.

  One with short hair and a bright pink tank top, while the other has her long hair pulled back and is wearing a short little black dress. They laugh as they spot Kev staring them down like they’re prey. They’re nothing like Allie. Kev can have them both. He nods and they blush, covering their faces with the red plastic cups of beer in their hands.

  “Not tonight,” I finally answer. I’m not feeling it. There’s only one girl I want to see here, and I know for a fact she knows I’m here. She knows where to find me. She’s not here because she doesn’t want me. I’m not stupid and her hints aren’t subtle.

  I went to her place, but she didn’t answer.

  She’s pissing me off more than anything. With the whiskey flowing through my veins, there’s not much of anything keeping me from going back to her house right now.

  “Why the fuck not?” he asks me, rearing his head back to look at me like I’m being unreasonable.

  “Not tonight,” I repeat and toss the plastic shot glass into the trash. That was the third or fourth shot I’ve had over the course of fifteen minutes. Maybe fifth. One after the other and I sway slightly, but the cup makes it into the bin.

  “Is it that chick?” he asks. That chick. That’s not her name.

  “Yeah,” I tell him and my body feels tight, even as my vision tilts. She’s fucking with me and she knows it. Worst of all, I’m letting her.

  “Suit yourself,” he says as he fills a cup from the tap of the keg.

  Anger rises in a slo
w billow as I watch the foam rise to the top of the rim.

  “What the fuck does that mean?” The words slip from me without any deliberate intention. It’s the anger taking over. Not at him. It’s anger directed at her.

  “Calm down,” Kev tells me, scrunching his brow and looking over his drink at me. “I didn’t mean shit.”

  James laughs and it pisses me off. The room tilts in the opposite direction when I look at him.

  “You got something to say?” I ask him. Because the fucker looks like he has something to say. The second the question leaves me, the front door opens and there she is.

  The short dress hits her upper thigh as she kicks the door shut, letting the thin fabric swirl around her. From head to toe, she has every detail in place. From her straightened hair to the high heels that complement the bracelets adorning her wrist.

  That devilish smile isn’t in sight as she turns toward the kitchen, toward us, and instantly catches my gaze. Like she could feel me watching her. I take her in slowly, feeling like an asshole for thinking she was avoiding me.

  She wouldn’t have come if she didn’t want me. Right?

  But then her eyes flash and she rips her gaze away.

  She came to end it.

  My heart slams once, then twice, as she stalks toward us. In my blurred periphery, I see James lean in closer and say quietly but with an arrogance I’m not in the mood for, “That’s the type of girl who fucks you raw when you show up to her house. Lets you fuck her in public. Likes to flirt. Likes attention. And will do anything to get it. Or anyone.” He nods his head as he talks, staring at something behind me. My knuckles turn white as the anger builds in response to his oblivious nature. “You really want to be tied up with that?” he asks me and my head turns slowly. So fucking slowly and against my will as Allison heads right for us.