I don’t need to think twice about the answer to that. “I’ve loved your daughter since I was twelve, since I was thirteen, since I was fourteen, and every year after that, that we weren’t allowed to be together.”
She nods. She understands what I’m implying. “Good. That’s good.” Her hand on my arm squeezes tight. “If you love her that much, don’t let her keep digging for answers. It’s only going to make this harder. For both of you.” Then she turns and walks away, without saying another word.
chapter fourteen
Eva
H ave you ever met someone who can become friends with everyone in a room, even if they don’t know half the people sitting in front of them? That’s Calvin. He’s never met Coop or Beck, but acted as if they’ve been coming around for breakfast for years. He entertained us all at breakfast this morning. Something about him makes you comfortable, no matter if you’ve known him for years, days, or just met the guy. I remember very little about the time he lived here before, when I was little, but being around him, listening to him talk, his mannerisms, even eating the amazing food he cooked, I know I’ve been around all of this before. It’s so familiar, it’s almost eerie.
After breakfast, I desperately want to go back home to change. I have no desire to keep the same clothes on for another twelve hours, regardless of the fact we don’t have any plans for the rest of the day. Bodhi insists on going with me to my house. No amount of persuading him I’d be alright and he should relax at Calvin’s with the guys, has him convinced otherwise. He ends up sending the guys back home and tells them we’ll meet up with them later, and walks along the dock with me towards my house.
I can tell walking is making him uncomfortable. His steps are long and slow, and I keep pausing so that he can catch up. I’m relieved once we make it to my backyard and onto the patio. I can tell he needs to rest but just won’t say it to my face.
“You want to sit here?” I point to one of the patio chairs. “Give me like twenty minutes?”
“Absolutely no. I go in with you. Knight in shining armor, remember?”
I smile at his determination and take his hand, guiding him in through the patio door. I’m not sure who’s home, if anyone is home, but bringing Bodhi into my house even on a normal day would make me a little nervous, let alone the day after everything exploded with my family. My anxiety is peaking at the mere thought of my dad being home right now and having him see the two of us walk in together.
“Hello?” I call out. It’s quiet. I wait a minute and question, “Anyone home?” Silence. “Looks like we’re in the clear,” I say to Bodhi.
We walk through the kitchen and into the foyer. The picture frames that had shattered on the ground the night before are gone. Everything looks cleaned up and put back in its perfect orderly fashion, as if nothing interesting happened there last night. I lead Bodhi upstairs and to my room, the bloody clothes I threw out my door are now missing from the hallway.
Two days ago, when Porter came over and closed himself in my room, my heart was racing with anxiety and fear. Today, as I close the door behind me and it’s Bodhi and I alone together, my heart is racing with the complete opposite feeling. Not fear, but the actual desire to want to be alone with him. It’s a beautiful feeling. One I didn’t know I could still have.
“So … this is Eva Calloway’s room,” Bodhi declares, looking around.
“This is it. Nothing too special.”
Bodhi moves over to my dresser as he sees the sea turtle he gave me after the accident. He picks it up and raises his eyebrow as he holds it in the air for me to see.
I blush. “Well, that’s special,” I say, walking over and taking it from him.
He pulls me in and kisses me, keeping his hands on my waist as he asks, “You’ve been holding on to that thing for the last three years?”
I flip it over in my hands. “It’s all I had of you.”
His face falls. “Well, you have me now,” he reminds me. “The real me, but if you prefer the turtle …”
I lean in and bring my lips to his, making it clear that he has me too, and that I definitely prefer him over a stuffed animal. He tugs at my waist as my body collides into his. My hands push up the bottom of his shirt so that I can find his bare stomach. I feel the ripples of his muscles and the tightness of his abs under my fingertips, and my heart starts to flutter in my chest. My fingers push into him, as I’m suddenly aware of the fact I’ve never touched Bodhi in this type of way before, this lust worthy way. It’s new, this sense of wanting him like this and having him right in front of me so I can act out these thoughts that are running through my mind.
His kisses become more passionate as my fingers glide over his warm body. “I love this,” he whispers into my ear. “Eva, I love how this feels—your hands on me … seventeen is definitely more fun than fourteen was.”
“Oh, yes,” I grin. “Definitely more fun.”
I know at this age, hormones sometimes overpower all rational thinking. But right this second, I want nothing more than to have Bodhi take me over to my bed and show me what it’s like to have sex with someone who loves you, and not someone who looks at you like you just belong to them. This is the first time I’ve ever welcomed this hunger deep inside of me. This desire to want his body on mine, to want to have sex. I need to know if it’s different, if love makes a difference.
Bodhi’s hands wander under my shirt now and I gasp a little as his fingers start to explore. He’s smiling through our kisses as he moves me back so I’m up against my dresser. His fingers work their way up my stomach and to my chest. My tight tank-top is acting like a bra, but there’s nothing there blocking his fingers from touching my breasts. He runs his fingernails along the outside of them, and cups them while his thumbs move in slow circles. The sensation causes me to moan and arch my body back as his mouth stays on mine.
“Eva, babe,” he mumbles. “I love hearing you moan when I touch you.”
Jesus Christ. Did he seriously say that? How does something so personal sound so normal coming from his mouth? And how do his words make my entire body shake?
“Your moans make me forget my own name,” he continues. I can sense he’s smirking as he whispers, “And these.” He runs his fingers along my breasts again. “When the hell did these appear?”
I grin as I bring my lips to his neck and murmur, “Fifteen. Right at fifteen.”
He groans into my ear. “God, they make my knees go weak.”
My fingers push harder against his body. “Good to know,” is all I can reply.
I’m absolutely aching inside at this point. I throw my hand behind me and swipe the random objects from my dresser to the floor, pushing myself up on it. He moves his body in closer to mine and my fingers move from his stomach to the strings of his swim trunks. I want them off right now. His mouth goes to my neck where he leaves a trail of soft kisses, and then his hands come out from my shirt as he grabs both of mine.
“Eva,” he whispers into my ear, kissing that soft spot right under my earlobe. “We don’t have to do this, here, right now.”
I pull away a little. “Do you not want to?”
He laughs under his breath. “Shit, Eva. Of course I do. You know I do.”
Yes, I do know. I can feel him up against my legs. He wants this just as much as I do. I bring my head up so that we can see each other better. His dark eyes are looking at me with amusement as he backs up a little, keeping my hands in his.
“You’ve done this before, right?” he questions. “I assumed you and—” he shakes his head. “I’m not going to say his name. It kills me I’m asking you this actually, but you and …?”
I look away, but nod. With Porter, just with Porter. I’m almost ashamed to admit it.
I hear Bodhi sigh. “I don’t want you to think we have to jump into anything—”
I laugh loudly. “We’ve known each other since we were twelve,” I remind him. “These last three years, if they hadn’t of happened, you honestly think we
wouldn’t have jumped into that part of our relationship yet?”
Bodhi gives me a small grin. “Oh, we would have,” he responds, quickly kissing me, then he looks behind him. “But you and … did it ever happen here?” he points behind him to my bed.
I nod again. Yes, I’ve had sex with Porter in my room. “What about you? I’m sure you’ve had plenty of—”
He gives me a long kiss to stop me from finishing my sentence. I feel like he keeps his lips on mine as long as possible because he doesn’t want to answer me.
“Yes,” he responds. “I have. And I’ve been careful, you know, safe? Every time. I’ve gotten tested before too, recently actually—”
“Jesus, Bodhi,” I mutter. “How many girls—”
His fingers come up over my lips. I stare into his eyes, feeling absolutely disgusted. Thinking of Bodhi sharing that type of intimate experience with other girls, numerous other girls, makes me want to throw up.
“It doesn’t matter,” he says, removing his fingers.
“It does.” Two minutes ago, this was not how I thought this moment was going to play out.
He squeezes my hands. “I was stupid. I was angry—”
“You used sex to cope with anger?”
His face looks nervous. “Sex and other things. This last year especially.”
“Why this last year?” I ask him.
He tensely stares at me for a moment before continuing. “Because a year ago I saw you on the pier with Porter, and I thought you’d never be mine. I always hoped you’d be mine one day, that I’d be yours—that you’d come back. But that day, seeing you with him, it was like I lost you all over again.”
I look away. I have to look away.
“I might have spiraled a bit after that,” he continues.
I quickly turn back to him and raise my eyebrow. “Like what Coop was saying earlier?”
He nods his head as his fingers brush my lips. I close my eyes.
“I’m on birth control,” I blurt out. “I have been for a while. An IUD, and he was—" I close my eyes tighter and turn my head. I can’t believe I’m talking to Bodhi about sex with Porter. “He was always safe even with my IUD.”
Bodhi puts his fingers on my chin and moves my head so that I’m looking at him again. I open my eyes as he says, “Eva, don’t be embarrassed or ashamed to talk to me about this kind of stuff. I know it sucks. You and me, we should have been each other’s first and only. I know we would have been.”
How can he talk about this so easily? So calmly? What we could have been? How does it not shred him apart inside like it does me? My eyes fill up with tears.
“No,” he whispers, his thumbs rest on my cheeks. “Don’t cry. What we did before today,” he continues, “those moments with other people, they don’t matter anymore. They never mattered. You and me, that’s what matters. But I don’t want our moments to have anything in common with those moments.” He points to my bed. “Especially in your room. Where you have memories already. You aren’t just some girl to me, Eva Calloway. I love you too much to let this happen right here, so fast, like this.”
My face turns pink. Bodhi has never said out loud that he loves me, at least not to me, that is.
“You love me, Bodhi Bishop?” I tilt my head and grin.
His cheeks blush. He tucks my stray hair behind my ear, and doesn’t hesitate at all when he says, “I thought it was obvious how in love I am with you? Yes, Eva, I love you. I’ll shout it from Flagler Pier if you need me to—”
“That’s quite alright,” I laugh.
“Confession,” he continues. “I’ve loved you since we were twelve.”
I lean forward and kiss him. “Confession. I’ve loved you since we were twelve too.” And then I smile at the memory. “The moment you opened the front door wearing those swim trunks with pineapples on them, the salt from the ocean had left little white trails up and down your arms, and your messy curls were flying in every direction on your head.”
“I knew it,” he smirks. “It was the pineapple swim trunks, right?” He brings his hand back up to my cheek and I close my eyes for a moment as he leaves it there. “I want it to mean something to you, to us, without rushing. This isn’t special,” he waves his hand behind him. “But trust me, stopping this,” he waves the air between us, “is torture.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and say, “I love that you cared enough to stop. You have no idea what that means to me.”
He brings me down from my dresser and kisses me again before bringing his forehead to mine. “I’m not about to screw this up. I’ve waited too long. I need to make sure everything with us, especially when we have sex, is a fireworks moment.”
I laugh and look up, pushing him a little towards my bed. “Fireworks moment. Setting the expectations high. Got it.” I give him a small kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for being you. Now stay here. I’ll just be a few minutes.”
It doesn’t take me long to brush my teeth and change into some new clothes. It could be that Bodhi’s waiting for me outside the bathroom door, or that I want to get the hell out of my house. I don’t know where my dad is, but I don’t want to be here when he returns. I also don’t trust Porter. Regardless of what I said to him yesterday, I know he’s going to contact me at some point. Porter just doesn’t take no for an answer.
I brush through the tangles in my hair the best that I can and throw it in a braid. I slide the bathroom door opened to see Bodhi sitting on my bed, my camera in his hands and from what it looks like, scrolling through my pictures. Normally it would irritate the hell out of me if someone picked up my camera and looked through my stuff without asking. But this is Bodhi, and I’m more curious about what he thinks than I am angry. He looks up to see me standing there, and smiles.
“I figured out how to turn it on,” he jokes. “These are great. Like, really good. Definitely an improvement from when you were fourteen.”
I throw the sea turtle at him but also say, “Thanks. That means a lot.”
“Shall we?” he asks, pointing to my bedroom door.
“We shall.”
We make our way back down the stairs and head towards the front door. Bodhi’s jeep is parked out front still from yesterday. As we get ready to pass my dad’s office, I notice the door is flung open. It’s never open. My dad always closes the door when he’s not in there. It’s always closed when he’s in there too. Now that I think about it, I rarely see the inside of this room. I curiously glance through the open door and gasp at the utter disaster I see. It’s been ransacked. Papers are scattered all over the desk and floor, books are thrown off the bookcases. There are picture frames on the ground, some are even broken.
“Holy shit,” Bodhi mutters. “Is this your dad’s office?”
I stand outside of the door, peering in. “What the hell happened in here?”
Bodhi tugs on my arm. “Maybe we should leave and pretend we didn’t see anything?” he suggests, pointing to the front door.
“No. This is not okay.” I walk in, stepping over everything on the floor, not sure what I’m planning on doing or why I even came inside.
“Eva,” Bodhi groans. “We really shouldn’t …”
I’m not listening to him though. I’m looking at all the drawers pulled out and files opened with their contents thrown everywhere around the room. I’m looking at how the books were pulled from the shelves and are now lying on the floor in a scattered mess. All the pictures and art from the walls have been thrown to the ground. It almost looks like someone had been searching for something, and they destroyed everything in the room during the process.
Bodhi’s now in the office with me but is hovering by the door. “Eva, something happened in here. We shouldn’t touch any of this stuff.”
I crouch down on the ground, looking at a pile of frames that came from one of the bookshelves. “Yeah,” I agree. “You’re right.”
Then a picture catches my eye.
You know when you get new pictures develop
ed you want to frame, but you don’t have a new frame to put them in? So instead of going out and buying new ones, you take frames that already have pictures in them and place the new picture on top of the old one? Forever preserving the picture that was in there before. This frame I see has the top picture, sliding down out of its home, revealing the hidden picture that’s behind it. Normally, this wouldn’t stop me dead in my tracks, but this picture that’s been concealed from sight for who knows how long, has a boat in the background, a boat that I can see says Wanderlust.
I pick it up, shaking the glass off and tossing the top picture to the ground so I can see the picture behind it more clearly. I peel it out. There are four men in this picture, standing in front of the boat with the sparkling ocean behind them. I stare at each of them closely. One I know for sure is my dad, and by looking at how young he is, I know this picture had to of been taken either when I was a baby, or maybe even a toddler.
Standing next to my dad is Mr. Channing. His hair is longer, but there’s no denying his smug face. I had no idea that my dad knew Mr. Channing this long, that he’s been in our lives since before I can even remember. Next to Mr. Channing is Owen Edwards. Older than the others, but looking much younger than I’ve always known him to be. And last, next to Owen, a man that makes my jaw drop. He’s got one arm around Owen and is holding a fishing pole in his hand. This man is the splitting image of Bodhi. It’s as if he himself is standing right next to Owen and not some identical stranger from before we even knew each other.
I’ve seen this man before. In another picture that Bodhi found when we were twelve, and in both pictures, this man is wearing the same exact t-shirt with a palm tree on his chest pocket, the same exact puka necklace draped around his neck.
I turn around and hand the picture out to Bodhi.
“What?” he asks, looking nervous. “What is it?”
“Bodhi,” I gulp, waving the picture in front of his hands. “Look.”
He takes the picture from my hand and I watch his eyes as he makes sense of each person he sees. One, by one, by one. And when he gets to the last man, the man who looks so much like himself, I watch as his eyes grow large and he brings his hand to his mouth. He backs up to the wall and leans against it, never once taking his eyes away from the picture now shaking in his trembling hand. He brings it down to his side and looks up at me. I know what he’s going to say before he even says it.
Confession Page 16