“Are we allowed to play Dinner Quest, even though it’s breakfast time?” I ask her.
She nods. “If I get the first question.”
She isn’t smiling. She hasn’t smiled for me in over a month. I hate that I’m the reason she doesn’t smile anymore.
I lay my fork down on my plate and bring my hands up, clasping them under my chin. “I was thinking about just letting you have all the questions,” I say.
“I only need the answer to one,” she says.
I sigh, knowing for a fact she needs more than just one answer. But the fact that she only wants the answer to one question leads me to believe she’s about to ask me about the bracelet. And that’s the one question I’m not willing to share the answer to just yet.
She leans forward in her chair and I brace myself for her question.
“How long have you been using drugs, Holder?”
I immediately look up at her, not expecting that to have been her question at all. It comes from so far out of left field that I keep my eyes locked with hers, but the randomness of the question makes me want to laugh. Maybe I should be disturbed by the fact that my behavior has given her such an absurd thought, but instead I feel nothing but relief.
I’m trying. I’m trying so hard not to laugh, but the anger in her eyes is adorable. It’s adorable and beautiful and honest and I’m so relieved. I have to look away from her because I’m trying my damndest not to smile. She’s being so serious and straightforward right now, but dammit. I can’t.
My smile finally gives way and I laugh. Her eyes grow angrier, which only makes me laugh harder. “Drugs?” I’m trying to stop, but the more I think about how much this has affected us the entire last month, it just makes me laugh even harder. “You think I’m on drugs?”
Her expression doesn’t change at all. She’s pissed. I hold my breath in an attempt to stop the laughter until I’m able to keep a straight face. I lean forward and take her hand in mine, looking her directly in the eyes. “I’m not on drugs, Sky. I promise. I don’t know why you would think that, but I swear.”
“Then what the hell is wrong with you?” she snaps.
Shit. I hate the look on her face. She’s hurt. Disappointed. Exhausted. I’m not sure which part of my unexplained, erratic behavior she’s referring to, but I honestly have no idea how to answer that. What is wrong with me? What’s not wrong with me?
“Can you be a little less vague?” I ask her.
She shrugs. “Sure. What happened to us and why are you acting like it never happened?”
Damn. That hurts. She thinks I just brushed everything that happened between us under the rug? I want to tell her everything. I want to tell her how much she means to me and how this has been one of the hardest months of my life. I want to tell her about Les and her and me, and how much it fucking hurts that she doesn’t remember. How can she just forget such a significant part of her life?
Maybe Les and I weren’t as significant to her as I thought. I look down at my arm. I trace the H and the O and the P and the E, wishing she remembered. But then again, if she remembered . . . she’d also know the meaning behind this tattoo. She’d know that I let her down. She’d remember that everything that’s happened in her life for the last thirteen years is a direct result of me.
I look her in the eyes and answer her with the most honest answer I’ll allow myself to give her. “I didn’t want to let you down, Sky. I’ve let everyone down in my life that’s ever loved me, and after that day at lunch I knew I let you down, too. So . . . I left you before you could start loving me. Otherwise, any effort to try not to disappoint you would be hopeless.”
Her eyes cloud with disappointment. I know I’m being vague again, but I can’t tell her. Not right now. Not until I know for sure that she’ll be okay.
“Why couldn’t you just say it, Holder? Why couldn’t you just apologize?”
The hurt in her voice grips my heart. I look her directly in the eyes so she’ll see how important it is to me that she never accepts how I treated her. “I’m not apologizing to you . . . because I don’t want you to forgive me.”
She immediately squeezes her eyes shut, trying to hold back tears. Nothing I can say could make her feel better about what happened between us. I release her hand and stand up, then walk to her and pick her up. I set her down on top of the bar so that we’re at eye level. She may not believe the words that come out of my mouth, but I need her to feel me. I need her to see the sincerity in my eyes and the honesty in my voice so she’ll know I didn’t mean to hurt her. I only wanted to protect her from feeling this way, but I’ve only made it worse.
“Babe, I screwed up. I’ve screwed up more than once with you, I know that. But believe me, what happened at lunch that day wasn’t jealousy or anger or anything that should ever scare you. I wish I could tell you what happened, but I can’t. Someday I will, but I can’t right now and I need you to accept that. Please. And I’m not apologizing to you, because I don’t want you to forget what happened and you should never forgive me for it. Ever. Never make excuses for me, Sky.”
She’s taking in every word I’m saying and I love that about her. I lean in and kiss her, then pull back and continue saying what I need to say while she’s still willing to hear me out.
“I told myself to just stay away from you and let you be mad at me, because I do have so many issues that I’m not ready to share with you yet. And I tried so hard to stay away, but I can’t. I’m not strong enough to keep denying whatever this is we could have. And yesterday in the lunchroom when you were hugging Breckin and laughing with him? It felt so good to see you happy, Sky. But I wanted so bad to be the one who was making you laugh like that. It was tearing me up inside that you were thinking that I didn’t care about us, or that spending that weekend with you wasn’t the best weekend I’ve ever had in my life. Because I do care and it was the best. It was the best fucking weekend in the history of all weekends.”
I run my hands down her hair to the base of her neck and brush her jawline with my thumbs. I have to take in a calming breath to say what I want to say next, because I don’t want to scare her. I just need to be honest with her.
“It’s killing me, Sky,” I say quietly. “It’s killing me because I don’t want you to go another day without knowing how I feel about you. And I’m not ready to tell you I’m in love with you, because I’m not. Not yet. But whatever this is I’m feeling—it’s so much more than just like. It’s so much more. And for the past few weeks I’ve been trying to figure it out. I’ve been trying to figure out why there isn’t some other word to describe it. I want to tell you exactly how I feel but there isn’t a single goddamned word in the entire dictionary that can describe this point between liking you and loving you, but I need that word. I need it because I need you to hear me say it.”
I kiss her and pull back, but she’s still looking at me in disbelief. I kiss her again and again, pausing after each kiss, hoping she’ll respond with something. I don’t care if she slaps me or kisses me back or tells me she loves me. I just want her to acknowledge everything I said. Instead, she’s just staring at me and it’s making me so damn nervous.
“Say something,” I plead.
She continues to stare at me for a long time. I try to stay patient. She’s always patient with me even though she’s so quick-witted. What I wouldn’t give for her to be a little more quick-witted in this moment. I need a reaction from her.
Something. Anything.
“Living,” she finally whispers.
That’s not what I expected to come out of her mouth, but at least it’s something. I laugh and shake my head, confused about what she means. “What?”
“Live. If you mix the letters up in the words like and love, you get live. You can use that word.”
Not only does she get me and not only is she smiling at me; but she just somehow gave me the one word I’ve been searching for since the moment I laid eyes on her in the grocery store.
I don’t deser
ve her. I don’t deserve her understanding and I sure as hell don’t deserve the way she just made my heart feel. I laugh and take her in my arms, bringing my mouth to hers. “I live you, Sky,” I say against her lips. “I live you so much.”
And as perfect as that word sounds, as perfectly as it describes the point we’re at, I know it’s a lie.
I don’t just live her. I love her. I’ve loved her since we were kids.
Chapter Thirty-four
* * *
Les,
I’m not reading that letter. I’m never reading it. Ever. And I’m done writing in this fucking notebook. So I guess that means I’m done writing to you, too.
H
Chapter Thirty-five
* * *
The phone rings and before I can even say hello, Daniel starts talking. “Do you and cheese tits want to come over and watch a movie with me and Val tonight?”
“I thought you broke up with Val.”
“Not today,” Daniel says.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” I’ve heard enough about Val to know that I’m not sure I feel comfortable taking Sky over there. We’ve only been dating two weeks.
“It is a good idea,” Daniel argues. “My parents leave at eight. Be here at eight-oh-one.”
He hangs up abruptly, so I text Sky.
Want to watch a movie with Daniel and Val tonight?
I hit send and toss my phone on the bed. I walk to my closet to inspect my shirt selection, but then I remember that I don’t really have much of a shirt selection. I grab a random T-shirt and am pulling it on over my head when Sky’s text sounds off.
Two conditions. (Per Karen.) I have to be home by midnight and you can’t get me pregnant.
I laugh and text her back.
Considering how boring you are, I’m pretty sure you’ll be home in less than an hour.
Does that mean you’re still gonna try to get me pregnant, though?
Damn straight.
Laugh out loud.
She actually typed laugh out loud.
I really do lol, then I put my phone in my pocket and head to my car.
• • •
I’ve never really had a conversation with Val before and tonight is no exception. Sky and I are on the couch in front of the TV in Daniel’s basement. Daniel and Val are in the chair and they’re completely mauling each other, making me question why Daniel would even want us here in the first place if this is all they’re gonna do.
Sky and I are watching them uncomfortably. It’s hard to pay attention to the TV when there’s actual slurping occurring.
The second Daniel’s hand begins to slip up Val’s shirt, I toss the remote at them, hitting Daniel in the knee. He jumps and lifts his hand to flip me off, but never breaks contact with Val’s mouth. He does somehow glance at me, though, and I silently tell him to get the hell out of his basement, or get the hell out of her shirt.
He stands up and Val is now wrapped around him. They say nothing as he carries her up the stairs and to his bedroom.
“Thank you,” Sky says, breathing a sigh of relief. “I was about to hurl.”
She’s curled up beside me on the couch with her head resting on my shoulder. I ease myself down into the couch so that we’re more comfortable, and we both look back at the TV. But I know we aren’t really paying attention to it because the energy in the room completely shifted the second Daniel and Val left. We haven’t had privacy like this since we officially started dating two weeks ago.
Her hand is in mine and they’re clasped together, resting on her thigh. She’s not wearing the dress that completely melted me the first time I saw her in it, but she is wearing a dress. And I love this dress just as much as the other dress.
I wish she were wearing jeans, though. I overheard Les talking with one of her friends once when we were sixteen. They were about to go on a double date and the friend was explaining to Les the rules of “make-out” clothes. She said if Les just wanted to kiss the guy, she needed to wear jeans because the guy would be less likely to slip his hand where he shouldn’t. Then she told Les if she planned to move past first base, that a skirt or a dress was the way to go. Easy access, she said. I remember waiting in the living room after hearing that conversation to see which outfit Les chose. She walked down the stairs in a skirt and I marched her right back up to her room and forced her to change into a pair of jeans.
I wish Sky were wearing jeans right now because my hands are starting to sweat and I know she can feel my pulse through the palm of my hand. Her dress makes me think she wants to take things a step further tonight and I absolutely can’t get that out of my head. I sure as hell want to take the next step, but what if Sky doesn’t know the rules to “make-out” clothes? What if she’s wearing this dress just for the hell of it? What if she’s just wearing this dress because her washing machine broke and all her jeans were dirty? What if she’s wearing this dress because she didn’t have time to change into jeans before I showed up at her house? What if she’s wearing this dress because she went to some sort of random church today that has service on Saturdays?
I wish I knew what was going through her head right now. I rest my head against the back of the couch and swallow the huge lump in my throat before I speak. “I like your dress,” I say. It comes out in more of a raspy whisper because my throat is so weak right now just thinking about her. But I think she liked the way I said it, because she tilts her head and looks up at me, then slowly drops her eyes to my mouth. Thanks to the angle we’re sitting, we wouldn’t even have to shift positions to kiss. Her mouth is so incredibly close, it’s practically on top of mine. But neither of us is taking advantage of that. Yet.
“Thank you,” she whispers. The sweet breath from her words crashes against my mouth, warming me from the inside out.
The tension is so thick now, I can’t even inhale.
“You’re welcome,” I whisper back, staring at her mouth the same way she’s staring at mine. We’re both quiet for a moment, just silently staring. She slides her lips together and moistens them and I’m pretty sure I mutter “holy shit” under my breath.
She likes that she just got me all flustered because she grins. “Wanna make out?” she whispers.
Oh, hell yes.
My lips are on hers before the sentence is even completely out of her mouth. I lower my hands to her waist and pull her until she’s straddling me.
Straddling me in. Her. Dress.
I keep my hands locked tight on her hips while her hands slowly make their way up my neck and into my hair. The way her chest is pressed against mine makes my head spin, and it feels like the only thing that could set it straight again is if I pull her even closer and kiss her even harder. So that’s what I do. I slide my hands away from her hips and reach behind her and pull her closer, pressing her into me so perfectly that she moans and tugs on my hair. I keep one hand on her ass, letting it flow with the rhythm of her movements while my other hand slides up her back and into her hair. I pull her mouth deeper into mine while I straighten my posture and lean forward so that my back is no longer touching the couch and my mouth is as meshed with hers as it’s gonna get. Only that just makes my head spin even worse, so we’re kissing faster now and she’s moaning louder and I’m gripping her hips again and moving her against me so perfectly that I’m pretty sure she’s about to have a repeat of what I did to her the first night we made out.
I don’t want that yet because she’s wearing this dress and it’s absolutely amazing and I’m not even taking advantage of it. I grip her shoulders and push her away from me, letting myself fall back against the couch.
We’re both gasping for breath. We’re both smiling. We’re both looking at each other like this is the best night ever because it’s only ten o’clock and we’ve got a good two hours left of this. I release her shoulders and take her face in my hands, then slowly pull her back to my mouth. I change the position of my hands to support her weight and I stand up, then lower her onto the co
uch. I join her, pressing one knee between her legs and the other on the couch beside her.
I’m starting to get the impression that Daniel picked out this oversized couch in the same way that girls pick out their make-out clothes. Because it’s the perfect couch for this sort of thing.
I begin to kiss down her chin, down her neck and down to the area where her dress stops and her cleavage begins. I slowly glide my hand over her dress and up the length of her body until I reach her breast. I stroke my hand over the material and she hardens beneath my fingertips.
Ohmygod I fucking love tonight.
I groan and grab her breast a little harder and she moans, arching her back, pressing more of herself against my hand. I claim her mouth with mine and continue kissing her until we have to break for air again. I press my cheek against hers.
My lips are right next to her ear.
“Sky?” I whisper.
She inhales a quick breath. “Yeah?”
I inhale a slow one. “I live you.”
She exhales. “I live you, Dean Holder.”
I exhale.
And inhale.
And exhale.
I repeat that sentence silently in my head. I live you, Dean Holder.
It’s the first time I’ve heard her say Dean.
Losing Hope Page 20