The Secrets We Keep

by Kimberly Blackadar

I circle the lot, finding a black Porsche on the other side and Ryan leaning against the driver side door. He has on a cream colored polo and dark khaki shorts. I park and stroll around my car. He grins and gives me the once over, his eyes traveling from my face to my dressy flats. “You look too nice to be eating here tonight.”

  I glance down at my white dress and then look back up at him. “Well, this is what I was going to wear on our date last night.”

  “Well.” He gestures at the pancake place. “This will have to be our date then.” He shakes his head. “Not exactly what I had planned, girl.” He extends a hand, and I take it, letting his fingers lace comfortably through mine. He guides me into the sparsely populated restaurant, and we find a booth in the back corner. We sit next to each other on the same side, and our long legs stretch to the empty seat across from us. We order some pancakes, trying various flavors of syrup.

  “I love breakfast dinner!” I shove a forkful of syrup-drenched pancake into my mouth.

  “Does anyone ever have dinner breakfast?”

  “Sure,” I say, “haven’t you ever had a slice of pizza for breakfast?”

  He shakes his head. “Nope.”

  I elbow him in the ribs. “You need to live a little, Ryan.”

  His eyes drop to the table, and he pushes out a breath. “That’s what Missy always said to me.” He turns to look at me. “Sorry, I shouldn’t bring up my…” he pauses, “I don’t even know what to call her. We never broke up, so she’s not my ex.”

  “Did you love her?”

  “Yeah, of course, I did.”

  “And she was your first love?”

  He nods and bites down on his lip.

  “Then that’s what she will always be—your first love, but when we’re talking, you can just call her Missy, and...” I rest my hand on top of his. “I want you talk about her. I think you need to, Ryan.” My thumb circles the top of his hand. “So tell me about her.”

  He lets out a sigh. “Where should I start?”

  “At the beginning,” I say gently and squeeze his hand. “Where did you meet?”

  “Well, we met down at the jetty. She was going to be a sophomore, and I was going into ninth. We were both with different groups that day, but one of her friends knew one of mine, and you know how that goes.” He swirls a piece of pancake in a pool of syrup. “We started talking and hit it off right away. I was too chicken to ask for her number, so I didn’t see her again until the first day of school. I had spotted her a few times that day, but I finally got up the courage to talk to her at the end of the day—right by her locker. When I walked up to her, she turned and gave me a big hug.”

  “Ah,” I say, “how nice.”

  “It would have been much nicer if her boyfriend hadn’t been right behind me. He yanked me away from her and slammed me up against the locker. I had never been in a fight before, but somehow I managed to knee him in the nuts, and while he was doubled over, I started beating on him. Some teacher came along and broke it up, and I got suspended my first week of school.” He pauses and smiles, “You do realize who her boyfriend was, right?”

  My mouth drops open. “Doug? He was, what, a senior, and you were a freshmen?” Ryan nods. “So you really bruised his ego?”

  “Now can you see why we’re not friends?” He grins and slides a forkful of pancakes into his mouth.

  “Yes, but what I don’t understand is why Ian still hangs out with him.”

  Ryan shrugs. “Ian gets along with everyone.”

  “Yeah, but Doug is a total jerk, and he’s proven that time and time again.”

  “True, but I sorta’ feel sorry for him. The best years of his life are behind him. He graduated high school and now works in a surf shop. He just lives for the next party, getting high and drinking into an oblivion.”

  “Did Missy party a lot?”

  He pushes out a breath. “Yeah, we both did.”

  “But you don’t anymore, right?”

  He shakes his head. “I can’t…not after what happened.”

  “Me neither.” He offers me an inquisitive glance, so I explain, trying not to get too upset when I retell my reasons. “Chloe—did you meet her at Rob’s house?”

  “Yeah, she’s Rob’s girlfriend and the friend you’re living with next year, right?”

  I nod. “Well, she got raped at a party this summer.”

  “Oh, no,” he says quietly.

  “Yeah, it was awful, but we didn’t know what had happened until weeks later. You see, we were all drinking at Courtney’s house, and I was actually sitting at the table with Chloe and the guy who raped her. I have often wondered if I had not been—” I pause, never actually articulating what I am about to say, “I feel like if I had been sober, then I would have noticed what was going on. The guy slipped a Rufie in her drink.”

  Ryan pushes out a breath. “That’s awful.” He shakes his head. “I feel sorry for her and for Rob. That’s a lot to deal with…at our age.”

  “Makes you grow up way too fast,” I add, considering their story, his story, my story. We all have horror stories which have succinctly truncated our childhoods.

  He pulls me into his chest and holds me tightly. “I know how you feel…I mean, about not being there for your friend.” As I listen to his words, I feel the reverberations of his voice against my face.

  “I know you do, Ryan.” I lift my head slightly and kiss his neck softly. He turns, raises my chin, and plants a soft kiss on my mouth.

  He draws back, our heads inches apart, as he begins quietly, “Do you drink at all anymore?”

  “No,” I answer, speaking into his gentle eyes. “I may someday, but I don’t see the benefit at our age.”

  He lifts a corner of his mouth. “It can be fun.”

  “Maybe…but I have had more fun with you in the last few days…” My words drift off as the memories resurface: I am in the water, splashing his face; at the top of the lighthouse, chatting easily; and in the forest, kissing his lips. “…than I have ever had with any other guy, and we’ve been completely sober.”

  His smile spreads into his eyes and warms my heart. “I know.” He swallows audibly. “I feel the same way.” His lips press against mine. I enjoy the warmth, and the sweet, syrupy taste of him, and his sexy hum as his tongue tussles with mine.

  “You kids need anything else?” The waitress is at our table, picking up plates, and slapping a bill down at the end. Her voice separates us, and Ryan hands her two twenties as he exits the booth. “Keep the change.”

  “Next time,” the waitress begins as she tucks the money into her apron, still balancing a stack of plates, “have him take you somewhere nice.” She peers into the parking lot. “Especially if he drives a car like that!”

  We stroll back into the parking lot. Ryan leans against his driver side door, and I pause in front of him. “It would be nice to kiss you without someone interrupting us,” he mumbles and folds his arms across his chest. Then he pouts like a toddler, and I laugh at him as I rest my hands on his folded arms. “Maybe it’s for our own good.” I pause. “We need to talk, remember?”

  “We can talk later.”

  “Right,” I quip, “because we have so much time tonight.”

  He edges the back of his car and opens the passenger door. “Get in, girl. I want to take you for a spin. Let me see if I can impress you with my ride.” I shake my head and roll my eyes as I slide on the leather bucket seat, sitting super low to the ground. I survey the dash. This car alone could impress a girl, but then as he gets in and smiles, that heart-warming look affects me even more. He reverses into the parking lot and plunges into the two-lane road. We travel for a few minutes, not talking, music thumping.

  “Ryan, I was wondering something about that night.” He reaches over, quiets the music. “Why did you get grounded?”

  “I broke curfew earlier in the week.” His eyes stay fixed on the road. “None of my other friends ever had to be home early, so I figured if I kept pu
shing my parents, they would give up.”

  “But they didn’t give up, did they?”

  “Nope.” He eyes me. “That’s why I’m still here.”

  “I’m glad you’re still here.”

  He slows at the stop light, turns, and finds my lips, leaving a warm kiss on my mouth. “I’m glad you’re here right now and that you’ll be here next year.” He glances at the stop light, still glowing red, then back at me. “Because,” he starts, placing another kiss on my mouth, “I can’t get enough of you, Miss Williams.” He turns his attention back to the now green light, pulls into the intersection, and makes a U-turn.

  “Well, Mr. Winters,” I begin, the name feeling foreign on my lips, “if I may call you that?”

  He peers over. “You may?”

  “Do we know each other well enough to be on a last-name basis?” I tease.

  “I think we got very…well…acquainted in the woods, don’t you?”

  I press my lips tightly and control a bizarre mix of desire and laughter. “Yes, I agree, Mr. Winters,” I say, allowing the familiarity to grow. “Hey,” I start as realization sweeps over me, “if we went to the same school and the teacher sat us alphabetically, you would be right behind me in class.”

  “Then,” he says, releasing a low breathy chuckle, “I could stare at you, and when the teacher wasn’t looking, I could…”

  “Especially during a movie,” I suggest.

  “Ooh, yeah, especially if we had history together. Those dudes show the most movies.” He reaches over and grabs my hand, resting our joined hands on the stick shift. “I wish we went to the same school, don’t you?

  “Yes and no. Yes, so I could see more of you, and no, so we don’t have to deal with the same high school drama.” I imagine Ryan at our lunch table, but I cannot see him hanging out with our crowd, and sometimes I cannot imagine myself there anymore. This year will not feel the same without Chloe.

  “Listen, I’d take the good with the bad…if it meant being with you more.”

  I slide closer, drop my head to his shoulder, and place my hand on the inside of his thigh. Then I kiss the side of his neck, gently at first; then I open my lips and pull a little skin between my teeth.

  “Damn, girl, maybe I’ll just have to transfer to Riverside.”

  “It’s a bit of a drive.”

  “I could just move in with…wait, I could take Rob’s room. That would be convenient.”

  “And,” I intimate a newscaster’s voice, “now back to reality.” He chuckles slightly as I lift my mouth to his ear. “We still need to talk, remember?”

  “You were the one who got me all,” he pauses, choosing his word carefully, “distracted.”

  “Well,” I begin as I place a kiss on his cheek, “I’m not sorry.”

  He just shakes his head as he pulls back into the parking lot, the clock waxing past eleven. He opens the door for me and holds my hand as we stroll toward my red Corolla. He lifts a finger, asking for a minute, and pulls out his phone. “I’m letting my mom know that I’ll be a few minutes late.”

  “You won’t be if you leave right now.”

  “I don’t want to leave…yet.” He slides his phone back into his pocket and takes my hands, lifting them to his lips, kissing my fingertips. “We still need to talk about everything, but before I start, is there anything you want to ask me?”

  “Yes,” I say, my mind flashing to a conversation on the beach, “I do have one question.”

  “Just one?” He offers with a smirk.

  “Yes,” I say, biting down on my lip. “I’ve been wondering what you said to me that day on the beach—it was something in French.”

  “That’s a statement. Not a question.”

  “But you know what I’m going to ask you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then answer the question.”

  “I just did. I said ‘yes.’”

  “Grr.” I playfully punch him in the arm.

  “You want to know what ‘Tu es la fille de mes rêves ‘means?” His words melt like butter on warm toast. “Well, girl, I could tell you the truth or lie, and you’d never know the difference.”

  Very softly, I reply, “Don’t lie to me, Ryan.”

  “It means…” His soft green eyes find mine. “You’re the girl of my dreams.”

  “I am?”

  He responds with a single kiss on my lips.

  I slip back and smile at him. “Just so you know,” I begin, jabbing a finger playfully into his chest. “You have been in my dreams since the day I met you.”

  “Hmm, is that so?”

  “Yes.” My palms rest on his chest, then slide down his torso, and tug on the hem of his T-shirt. “Dreams that don’t require you to wear a shirt.”

  “Yeah, well, in my dreams,” he begins with a purely sexy grin, “neither do you.”

  “Ry-an!”

  “What?” He steps back and spreads his hands to the sides. “A guy can dream, can’t he?”

  I slide forward, meeting him in a warm kiss, and he deftly pushes me backward, pressing my backside against my car. His hands hold my face while my fingers journey down his back. I pull him closer to me as our kiss deepens to a familiar spot under a canopy of wide-arms oaks.

  “You two still here?”

  We both look over and see our waitress, crossing the lot and heading toward the dumpster with some bags of trash.

  “Man,” Ryan grumbles, “what’s the deal with us kissing and people interrupting?” Ryan shakes his head and reaches for his phone, checking the time. “Damn, I really gotta’ go.”

  “I know.” I rest a palm on his face. “Thanks for meeting me tonight.”

  “But we didn’t talk about…” His words fall, weighted with distant pain.

  “We can talk on the phone later.”

  “No,” he begins, shaking his head, “I have to tell you this in person. This is why I had to meet you tonight.” He pushes out a loud exhale. “It’s the reason I am torn between starting things with you and waiting, and you should know everything, so you can decide if you want to be with me through all of this.”

  I swallow the nervous knot. “All of what, Ryan?”

  He presses his lips together. “In two weeks, Missy’s parents will pull the plug on the life support machines, and then they’ll have the memorial services shortly after that. They have asked me to speak at the funeral.” I nod in understanding. “I figured I would date again after she was gone, but then you showed up and…”

  “I’m sorry for complicating your life.”

  He shakes his head. “You don’t complicate it, Callie. You made it much better.” He reaches for my hands. “When I’m with you, I completely forget about everything…but then I feel guilty when I remember.”

  I step forward and kiss his cheek. “‘Better by far you should forget and smile/Than that you should remember and be sad.’” I slide back. “That’s from some poem I memorized for English class.”

  He nods. “You’re very smart.”

  “I didn’t write it.”

  “But you said it—at the right moment.” He draws me into a hug. “Thank you for helping me forget.” I think of the last six days and how I resorted to daydreams of him rather than face reality. His warm breath finds my ear. “If you’re okay with going through this rough time with me, then I want to date you.”

  “And I’ll understand if I need to fade into the background while you play the boyfriend role one more time.” I hug him tightly.

  “But before you say yes, I need to warn you, Callie. I have only dated two girls in my life, and each relationship lasted an average of three years. You need to consider that statistical probability in all of this.”

  I step out of his arms, bite down on my lip, and pretend to consider my options. “Well,” I return his mock solemnity. “You should probably consider the fact that I am moving to Tennessee in this three-year commitment of yours.”

  “Maybe I already have.”
<
br />   My heart alights with warmth, and then his phones rings. “Hi, Mom…No, I haven’t left yet... Sorry, but I’m going to be late...I was talking to Callie about Missy.” I step back, not wanting to interfere. “Thanks for understanding…I love you too, Mom.” He slides his phone into his pocket.

  “You always say that to your mom?”

  “Now I do.” He shrugs a shoulder. “I always consider the importance of the last words I say to someone, since I never know if I’ll ever get another chance.”

  I don’t know why I ask him, but I do: “What were your last words to Missy? Do you remember, Ryan?”

  “Yeah.” His eyes close and he pushes out a breath. “Don’t have any fun without me.”

  I step closer, collecting him in my arms. “It’s not your fault.” His chest rises and then quivers as he exhales. I rub soft circles on his back. “Stop blaming yourself for being alive. You have a chance to live a life that will honor theirs.” I hold him tighter.

  His warm voice finds my ear. “Thank you, Callie. I needed to hear that.” He steps back and shakes his head sadly. “It’s going to be hard to say goodbye to you tonight. After all I’ve shared with you, I feel closer to you than I have to anyone else in a long time.”

  I place a hand on his cheek. “Ryan, I’m grateful that you opened up to me tonight. Before you go, I want you to know how much I care about you.” I place a warm kiss on his cheek.

  Ryan steps forward and holds my face in his warm hands. “Goodnight, Callie.” He finds my eyes, burrowing a path deeply into my soul. “I…I’ll miss you.”

  I close my eyes, soak in his words, and then peer into those emerald eyes that have been on my mind constantly for the last six days. “I’ll miss you too, Ryan.”

  He leans forward, punctuates our night with a gentle kiss on my lips, and steps back. I turn, open the car door, and start the engine, feeling a way I never expected to feel tonight. It may be crazy to think of a three-year commitments after six days of knowing each other, but I am certain of one thing—whatever I am feeling for Ryan surpasses whatever I felt for Mike.

  *****