Abi and the Boy Who Lied

by Kelsie Stelting

  Abi: Seriously.

  Jon: Are you okay?

  What did I say to that? That I got a cryptic letter and now I couldn’t sleep? I sighed and sent a text back.

  Abi: I miss you.

  Jon: I miss you too.

  Abi: Can I ask you a favor?

  Jon: Anything. Anytime. Always.

  I didn’t want to be that girl. The one who clung to her boyfriend so tightly the only thing he wanted to do was get away. But I couldn’t get over this frozen, terrified feeling permeating my entire body.

  Abi: Can we talk on the phone until I fall asleep?

  Within seconds, my phone screen lit up with a call from Jon. I smiled at his picture, one of him from prom, looking stunning in his tux. I’d never seen someone clean up as well as he had.

  I swiped the answer button and lay down with my cheek against the phone. “Hey,” I said, sounding weaker than I wanted to.

  “Hey, beautiful. Everything okay?”

  “It is now.”

  He chuckled softly, but his tone was serious when he spoke. “You know, Abi, you don’t have to be strong all the time. Sometimes our memories catch up with us, and we just have to wait them out. They’re in our past, and we’re always moving toward the future.”

  I agreed with him. But what if they weren’t in the past? What if they were sitting on your nightstand, just waiting to make themselves a part of the present?

  Chapter Ten

  My alarm clock went off, and I woke up with my face pressed against my phone, a little bit of drool dried on the black surface.

  I groaned and pushed myself up, looking at the screen. One new text from Stormy. Before checking the message, I went back to my call log. Jon and I had stayed up for two hours and twenty-seven minutes, well past 4 a.m. I’d barely gotten two hours of sleep, and now I had to get dressed in business casual and go to work.

  My feet sank into the carpet, and I stumbled to the bathroom, hoping a shower would wake me up. Plenty of hot water, two coffees, and four scrambled egg whites with dry wholegrain toast later, I was still dragging.

  Mr. Scoller and the other partners had plenty of work for me, though. At least I wouldn’t fall asleep on the job. Although, I was seriously considering researching horses to see how I could get some sleep standing up.

  Around noon, my phone rang. Stormy.

  “Hello?”

  “Are you ignoring my texts?” she accused. I could hear all the sounds of the restaurant in the background.

  “I’m so sorry.” I rubbed my face. “I hardly got any sleep last night.”

  “Bow chicka wow wow.”

  “Ew, stop.”

  She laughed. “What? You’ve been together two months.”

  “Okay, new topic. What did you text about?”

  “We’re all going out to eat tonight, and then we’re having a going-away party for Roberto at my place.”

  “I thought we were just doing breakfast with him tomorrow?”

  “Girl,” she said, “he’s going to be in freaking humid, HOT North Carolina for ten weeks. No contact with the ladies, no beer, no nothing. We have to see him off the right way.”

  I laughed. “Okay. Where are we meeting?”

  She named the restaurant and time, then said she had to get back to work. When I checked my text messages, I realized there’d been a whole thread in our group text, agreeing to go. Jon had even offered to pick me up.

  Despite myself, I smiled. I liked that us going to a party together was the default now.

  Just a little while longer until I could be with him. Feel his fingers slipping through mine, get some privacy for a kiss that would make me melt and freeze in all the right places.

  I got back to work and threw myself into each task Mr. Scoller gave me, hoping for a distraction from the night before. Around five, Jon walked into the filing room where I was sorting papers. He wore shorts and a T-shirt, making them look like the clothes were designed specifically for him. If this moment were in the newspapers, it would say, He’s out of her league. Miracles do happen.

  And he looked like a miracle, even dressed so casually.

  Mr. Scoller poked his head into the filing room. “Are you stealing my girl?”

  “Sure am,” Jon said. “But I think she’s my girl, Dad.”

  Glen winked. “That’s my boy.”

  My cheeks heated. “Awkward.”

  They both laughed, and I stood up, storing the boxes I’d been working through so I could pick up where I left off the next day.

  “Mr. Scoller, is it okay if I come in at noon tomorrow instead of eight?” I knew how Stormy’s parties could go, and I didn’t think I could take another night with only two hours of sleep.

  “Sure thing,” he said. “Just be sure to mark it on your time sheet.”

  “I will,” I promised.

  Jon took my hand, and we left the firm.

  “We don’t have to meet them for a couple hours,” I said.

  “You don’t want to change?” His eyes trailed so slowly down and then up my body.

  My stomach tightened.

  “You’re gonna make me look bad,” he added.

  “I hardly think that’s possible.”

  “Whatever,” I said. “Take me to Gram’s, I’ll change.”

  “Can I watch?”

  I rolled my eyes at him and took his hand, not able to take the space between us any longer. “Let’s go.”

  Jon kept his hand on my leg during the drive. Did he know how much his touch drove me crazy? That I couldn’t focus on anything other than the spot of skin under his hand and the waves of attraction that radiated from that simple touch?

  When he pulled his car into the driveway, I was both disappointed and relived. We walked inside the house together, and he followed me to my room. Grandma had left a note hanging on my door.

  Went out to dinner with a friend. Be back around 8. Love, Gram.

  Jon turned to me at the same time I turned to him. The look in his eyes told me he’d read the note and that he understood what it meant. We were at the house by ourselves, uninterrupted for at least two more hours, if we wanted to be late for our own dinner.

  He didn’t use words, just his touch, as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me into a kiss that took my breath away. His lips lingered on mine, playing, tugging, savoring. My teeth caught his bottom lip, firm, for a fraction of a second, and a low moan escaped him from somewhere deep inside.

  “Abi,” he breathed, deepening the kiss. That one word did us both in as we walked to my bed, kissing, frantic, tasting everything we could in this PG-13 love scene I wanted to co-star in for my entire life.

  Most of our time spent together was filled with talking or running or with friends and family, but this privacy, this urgency was new. And his hand, playing with the edge of my skirt, touching the bare skin of my back, my stomach, was new too.

  I explored on my own, feeling his stomach, tight from track workouts, and the little bit of hair that grew on his chest, in contrast to his smooth skin of his shoulders. I couldn’t breathe, didn’t want to, because that meant another minute wasted, not kissing Jon, and I wanted to make the most of every second. This life seemed like a miracle to me. It could be any moment before he realized he could have some other—better—girl with him instead of me.

  We kissed, explored, until my lips felt hot and my hair had come out of the carefully done braid I’d worn to work.

  “We better get ready,” Jon said against my lips.

  “Do we have to?” I whined.

  He laughed.

  I was only partially kidding.

  “Come on.” He stood up and pulled me up off the bed.

  As I went to my closet, all I could think was that I hoped my pillow still smelled like Jon when I went to bed that night, because I was going to be dreaming about this day for as long as I lived.

  Chapter Eleven

  We sat around the coffee table in Stormy’s living room, and I just kept remembe
ring that Saturday after my first track meet, playing Truth or Dare, laying my guts bare to these people who had gone from strangers to friends I couldn’t picture my life without.

  But this time, Jon sat beside me on a pillow. He kept brushing his shoulder against mine, sending an echo of the fire from earlier straight through my body. Whether he was doing it on purpose or not, I didn’t know.

  He caught me staring at him, smirked.

  Definitely on purpose.

  I shook my head at him, fighting a smile, and turned back to the conversation.

  Andrew and Roberto were in a fire-round of Would You Rather, basic-training style, and all of our friends were cracking up.

  Andrew stood toe-to-toe with him, yelling in his face like a drill sergeant. “Would you rather French your lieutenant or clean the dorms with a toothbrush?”

  “How long was the French, sir?” Roberto fired back.

  Andrew thought it over. “Two minutes, cadet.”

  “French,” Roberto said. “Hands down. No homo.” Then he gave an apologetic smile to Macy and Leanne. “No offense.”

  “None taken.” Macy raised an eyebrow. “But you might not want to talk about hands down... you know, during a French with another guy.”

  Roberto’s olive skin darkened red as he turned back to Andrew, stammering, “Next.”

  “Would you rather eat mud or throw it up, you worthless piece of pig bile?”

  “Eat it,” Roberto scoffed. “What kind of question is that?”

  “Fine, would you rather get a sexy letter or a sexy picture?” Andrew asked.

  “From you?” He laughed. “Neither.”

  Andrew pretended to be hurt, and Skye squeezed him tight. “It’s okay, fiancé.”

  They’d been calling each other that all evening. It was one part cute, two parts gross.

  I threw a pillow at them, laughing. “Get a room.”

  Andrew chucked it right back and went to stand. “Okay, where?”

  Skye rolled her eyes, pulling him down.

  He dropped beside her, easily slinging his arm around her shoulders, and dropped a kiss on her head. I’d been so jealous of their relationship only a few months ago, but now I felt like I had that, with Jon. Only, it wasn’t so permanent. At least, not yet.

  I shook my head to clear my thoughts. Why was I thinking about things like that? We hadn’t even hit third base yet. Why was I thinking about forever?

  Maybe that was the thing about forever. There was now, and then there was everything else. When you didn’t have a good past, you just wanted to live in all the possibilities of the future. Of forever.

  Andrew asked Roberto the next would you rather question, dropping the drill sergeant shout. “Would you rather stay in the U.S. or go overseas?”

  It was the closest to real we’d been all evening, and everyone quieted, waiting for his answer. I could taste the tension in the room, feel it in the way Jon gripped my hand, more tightly than usual.

  “Here,” Roberto said. “I just needed a way out, you know?”

  If anyone knew about needing a way out, it was me. I leaned forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “The fact that you said that means you’re already halfway there.”

  His dark eyes met mine. “Thanks, guera.”

  Around four in the morning, after we’d talked and laughed and talked some more, someone decided we should get some sleep. Roberto had to leave at eight for the airport.

  Jon curled up behind me on a bed made of couch cushions and blankets spread on the floor, and I leaned into his warmth. I fell asleep thinking about goodbyes and leaving and the letter and how sometimes, no matter how far away you wanted to get, your past could catch up with you.

  Chapter Twelve

  Evan went around the room, waking us all up around six in the morning. We were taking Roberto to his favorite breakfast spot, which just happened to be the same place Jon took me to for breakfast the first time I stayed at Stormy’s house.

  None of us even bothered changing clothes. We just got out of our blanket nests and went to our cars, rubbing our eyes and yawning like the night owls we’d been.

  Roberto rode in the Suburban with Evan and Michele. Even though they’d been together longer than Jon and I had, it seemed like they were where they should be three months in. Fun. Only a little gooey.

  Jon and I, though... I couldn’t take my eyes off his jaw, where just the slightest amount of stubble grew. Where I would kiss him if we got another hour or two alone. It seemed like we’d skipped that early, testing-it-out stage altogether.

  I cringed at the thought that we would both have roommates in college, a full course schedule, and track practices. That kind of time would be hard to come by, let alone privacy.

  Jon parked right next to Andrew’s car and came around to open the door for me. When we got inside, Skye, Stormy, and I went to the bathroom together. As we stared in the mirror, trying to make our faces look normal, Stormy said, “You and Jon looked cozy last night.”

  Skye waggled her eyebrows. “Sure did.”

  “Have you done it yet?” Stormy asked.

  My cheeks heated as I shook my head.

  Stormy’s eyebrows came together, and she looked at me in the mirror like I was crazy. “Girl, what are you waiting for?”

  Someone cleared their throat behind us, and a stall door opened. Marta came out, and my mouth went dry. If I’d been red before...

  Marta put her hand on my shoulder. “They’re waiting for marriage,” she answered Stormy’s question.

  “Yep.” I nodded. “That’s it.”

  Marta gave me a knowing smile as she washed her hands. The second she walked out of the bathroom, I sagged down against the wall while Skye and Stormy burst out laughing.

  “Shut up,” I whisper-yelled. “The bathroom’s not soundproof!”

  Still, their shoulders shook from the force of their quieted laughter.

  “Ha ha,” I said. “Hilarious.”

  Stormy put her mascara back in her purse, then offered me her hands to help me up. “Sounds like you’ll be waiting a while.”

  We left the bathroom to see Marta and Grandma standing by our table, talking to all of our friends. To Jon. I hadn’t thought it possible, but my face got even redder than it had before. My neck and ears felt warm now too.

  Marta smiled warmly at me. “I was just telling Jon how I ran into you in the bathroom.”

  Stormy sniggered behind me, and I elbowed her.

  “My boob,” she grunted quietly.

  Humor sparked in Marta’s eyes, which looked so much like Jon’s. “I didn’t know the going-away breakfast was here.”

  “That’s my fault.” Roberto held his hands up. “This is my favorite. I had to get one last good meal in before I suffer through MREs for ten weeks.”

  Grandma smiled at him. “Don’t you think for a second that we don’t appreciate all you’re doing, serving our country.”

  Roberto looked almost...bashful as he smiled at her and mumbled something about it being no problem.

  “Well,” Marta said. “We’ll leave you kids to it. Hope you don’t have to wait too long.” She winked at me. “For your food.”

  The second the door closed behind them, Stormy and Skye broke out in laughter so hard I had to relate the entire painstakingly embarrassing encounter to the rest of our friends. If we were playing a game of Would You Rather, I would have rather had Marta walk into the bathroom on me naked than overhear that conversation.

  Jon seemed amused by it all. “Mom was just joking. She knows that’s not realistic.”

  His words made my back straighten and sent butterflies whirring in my stomach. Not realistic?

  I didn’t even know how that made me feel. How it should make me feel.

  But there were bigger things to worry about, like this being the last supper...breakfast, with all my friends in one place.

  Everything was changing, and I felt the gold plating in my cracks shifting loose. I’d been through wors
e. So why did this feel so bad? Like losing a part of myself?

  When eight o’clock came, Roberto’s parents parked outside the restaurant in their vehicle that had already been packed with his bags.

  They waited in the car while the ten of us stood in the parking lot, one big, awkward, teary crowd, none of us wanting to say goodbye first.

  “Roberto,” Stormy said, her eyes misty.

  “Stop,” he said, shifting. “I’m going to be gone for ten weeks. That’s it.”

  “Yeah, but then...” Macy trailed off, her eyes taking on the same haze as Stormy’s.

  I could already feel the hole forming in my chest. Tears stung my eyes. We were a group. If anything, we were supposed to gain more friends. Not less.

  Andrew let go of Skye’s hand to give Roberto a hug. A real one. Not the stupid half one guys usually do. And then Evan did. And Stormy did, and we were all reaching to give him a hug goodbye.

  As he squeezed his arms around me, he said, “We got out. We made it.”

  But this didn’t feel like making it; it felt like losing it. “Be safe,” I choked out.

  We watched, a sad, rag-tag group minus one friend as Roberto’s parents drove him away. He waved out of the backseat window, and we stayed, waving back until the car had driven so far away we couldn’t see even a hint of it anymore.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Evan left town next after another goodbye breakfast at the diner. A week after that, Andrew and Skye drove off in Andrew’s Taurus, packed so full we couldn’t see inside through the back windows. Skye held a lamp in her lap, and the back end sunk so low, I worried about their tires. Another week later, Macy and Leanne left right after breakfast, riding away with stuff piled high in the bed of Macy’s dad’s pickup.

  And then it was my turn, Jon’s turn, our turn.

  While I finished packing my things into suitcases and storage tubs—I couldn’t stand the sight of another black garbage bag—Stormy lay on my bed, throwing a round lip balm pod to the ceiling and catching it in a lazy rhythm. Up, down. Up, down.

  “I still don’t understand why you’re just now packing,” she said.