by Celeste, B.
“Tell you what,” I bargain, “I’ll grab some dinner on the way home tonight and we’ll stay in. Sound good?”
She perks up. “You don’t want to go out?”
“No, baby. I think we’ll be very busy inside.”
Her eyes flash knowingly, and she kisses me goodbye in satisfaction. Truthfully, sometimes it’s easier to let sex talk for us. We don’t have the best conversations otherwise, most of them lead to arguments. If sex is what keeps us together, then so be it.
Robert steps into my office not long after Isabel leaves. “You going to finally put a ring on that finger, Everett?”
My eyes widen. “Uh …”
He chuckles. “They don’t make girls like that anymore, son. You might want to claim her before it’s too late. But no matter. I came to tell you we have a meeting with the district board in ten minutes over in the west wing conference room.”
“Okay,” I rasp.
His amused smile is what he leaves with, walking in the direction of the conference room he mentioned.
He thinks I should propose to Isabel? Shit. That means she’s probably thought about marriage too. It’s a logical next step for us, since we’ve been together for three years. But it’s a step I can’t force myself in to taking.
Not yet.
Probably not ever.
13
River / 16
Bridgette tells me that Oliver is coming home for the long weekend. I’m excited to see him and ask how college has been. He calls sometimes and tells me about his classes and his games, which we all go to once a month. I never thought I would have missed him this much when he moved to Pennsylvania, but I do.
The excitement wears off quickly when I overhear Robert tell Darlene to make sure there’s enough for an extra person. He doesn’t need to say who it is, because I already know in my gut.
After I figure out Everett Tucker is joining us, I quickly make plans with Steph. She asked me during the week if I wanted to come stay at her place tonight, because her and some other girls are doing a movie-slash-sleepover. I told her no because of Oliver, but now I feel like it’s my only way out.
Everett used to be someone I looked forward to seeing walk through the front door. Another first for me. Men … we still don’t get along. But he gave me no reason not to trust him and proved time and time again that he’s always going to be there for me. Except for the night of the party.
Facing him after what I asked is too much. I’ve avoided all conversation that leads to him, because seeing his disgusted face that night replays on a loop in my head. It hurts.
Not just because he rejected me, that stung. But the chances of us ever being the same are low, and knowing I ruined our friendship, if that’s what you call it, makes my heart feel like it’s being stabbed. Only I’m the one holding the knife.
Robert tries to get me to stay home, but Bridgette assures me it’s fine if I go to Steph’s. I’ve only slept over at her house once before and made Bridgette come get me when I started having a breakdown in the middle of the night. Thankfully, it was just me and Steph. I lied and told her I didn’t feel well, which is why I was crying. She bought it, I think.
Anyway, Oliver will be home all weekend, so it isn’t like I’m skipping out on spending time with him. I can see him when I’m back tomorrow. He’ll probably be proud of me for facing my fears and sleeping at Steph’s house. I just hope I’m stronger than a year ago.
Pulling out a new overnight bag that Bridgette bought me a while ago, I stuff some clothes inside. Pajamas, jeans, and a blouse for tomorrow, and some cotton panties that Steph made me buy when we went shopping with her mother a few weeks ago. She tried getting me to buy lacey underwear, especially after she found out about Asher Wilks. But I refused, because nobody else is going to see what I’m wearing underneath my clothes.
My chest stings thinking about Asher. He’s a senior who takes classes at the community college part-time. Everyone loves him. He’s smart, witty, and on the football team. When I saw him at the party after the whole Everett thing happened, I let his flirtations get to me. I used him.
A few days after the party, people at school started whispering when I passed them in the halls. I tried convincing myself I was being paranoid, but Steph pulled me into the women’s bathroom, demanded everyone inside get out, and then made me spill. Turns out, the whole school knew I slept with Asher.
But that isn’t what got the most buzz. The morning Steph made me tell her what happened, Asher Wilks came to school with a black eye and split lip. Supposedly, he got the injuries during football practice. Steph said that’s impossible, because his helmet would have protected him.
People kept connecting the dots and figured someone who knew me must have found out about us hooking up. The term still makes my spine crawl. I know I shouldn’t have slept with him, shouldn’t have handed him my virginity, but Everett didn’t want it and Asher did.
Pulling myself from the thought, I grab a new outfit to change into before heading over to Steph’s. Bridgette took me to get my learners permit for my driver license, but I still need more hours before the six-month hold lets up so I can take the actual test. Honestly, I’m not sure I want to drive. It’s Steph who keeps telling me I need my own car, so Bridgette and Robert don’t have to drop me off whenever I want to go somewhere.
Just as I throw my shirt onto the floor, my bedroom door opens. Yelping loudly, I spin to see who it is only to gape in disbelief when I see a tall, broad form filling my doorway.
“Oh my God.” My voice is high-pitched and squeaky as I dart into my closet and out of Everett’s eyesight. I’m in my bra and jeans, and the top of my pink polka-dot panties are peeking over the waistband of my pants.
“River,” he calls, his voice rough and unsure.
Everett just saw me in my bra.
Grabbing the first shirt I see, I yank it on and force myself to take a few deep breaths. He won’t go away until I face him, I know that. It doesn’t make my heavy steps ease the panic building in my chest as I peek at him over the edge of the closet door.
His eyes are dark as he stares at me.
He’s mad.
“E-Everett, what are you doing here?”
He isn’t supposed to be here until five, same with Oliver. It’s only three-thirty.
“Your back,” he whispers.
“I … I never left,” I answer in confusion.
He swallows, his throat bobbing. “No. What happened to your back? Were those … are those?”
My whole body freezes.
My back.
The front of me only contains the scars left by cigarettes and dull knives. But my back … those are worse. They stretch from my shoulder blades to just above my butt, with very little skin left untouched. I forget about those marks most of the time. Out of sight out of mind. But the memories of the belt slashing my skin always remind me when I’m at my weakest.
“River.” His voice is firmer. “What the hell happened to your back?”
Forcing myself to step out of my closet, I cross my arms over my chest. “That’s n-none of your business, Everett.”
“None of my business,” he muses dryly. He shakes his head, looking anywhere but me. “It would have been, River. If I agreed to sleep with you, it would have become my business.”
Nausea sweeps over me. “H-How? You wouldn’t have seen them. Y-You would have only seen …”
He waits for me to finish the sentence, but I can’t. He’s looking at me with so much intensity it drowns out my words.
He takes one step closer, but I’m too frozen to back away. “Believe me, River, if I had you, I’d have all of you. There’s not one piece of skin that I wouldn’t see, touch, or kiss.”
Oh my God.
A funny tingling sensation settles into the pit of my stomach the same moment my body heats up. My cheeks feel like they’re on fire as images of what could have happened flood my mind. But those images are shattered when I realize he’s being serio
us—he would have seen everything. All the scars, deformities, and flaws that are reminders of everything I’ve gone through.
“I guess that means Asher Wilks didn’t see everything?”
His words slice me worse than the belt did.
“What?” My voice is barely a whisper.
His eyes narrow. “Asher. Wilks.”
Everett knows about Asher. How could he not? We had sex at his party.
Now my face is full-blown on fire, and Everett knows why. “Yeah,” he gruffs, “how’d that turn out for you, River?”
He’s definitely angry with me.
What does he want me to say? Asher Wilks didn’t see everything. He stuck his hand up my shirt, pulled off my shorts, and didn’t even completely take off his jeans before we were doing the deed. I didn’t want him seeing everything, and he didn’t seem to want to either.
Everett doesn’t want to know that, even if he asks. He’s upset, lashing out. I deserve it. I always mess up, always do the wrong thing.
So, I remain silent.
His fingers rake through his dirty blond hair. It’s longer than I remember, floppier and unkempt compared to the party three weeks ago. The messy look works for him and the light stubble lining his jaw makes him look older, like an adult instead of a twenty-year-old college kid.
“Why?” he finally asks, breaking the silence.
“Why what?”
He throws his hands up. “Why did you do it? Why him, River? Is it because I wouldn’t? I was doing you a favor, okay?”
A favor?
Anger bubbles up. “I don’t need any favors from you, Everett.”
He laughs coldly. “No? Because you sure were asking a big one at the party.”
His words hit me at full force. I stumble back a little, flinching when they sink in.
“Shit.” He grips the back of his neck. “River, I didn’t mean that. I’m just … processing this. I want to understand why you did that.”
Does he really? It seems like he doesn’t want to know anything. Not about this. He’s just trying to figure out how to deal with it.
The truth is, I lost my virginity because I was afraid of somebody else taking it. It’s a stupid term, if you ask me. Your virginity isn’t something you can misplace, you give it to someone. Preferably, someone you trust. Maybe even someone you love.
That’s why I wanted Everett to have it.
I’m not sure when I realized I loved him. I think I kind of always have. When I was thirteen, he was the only one I looked forward to seeing outside the James’. He made me feel special, like I wasn’t some foster kid in a place I didn’t belong. He made me feel like I fit in.
So, yeah. My virginity should have been his. If it goes to the person you love, he should have said yes. But he didn’t, because he doesn’t love me. Oliver mentioned not long after the party that Everett and Isabel are still together, though he doesn’t know why. It was like ice water being dumped on my head.
Everett doesn’t belong to me, but to her. Issy.
It makes what I did with Asher feel less like a huge mistake and more like moving on. But I haven’t moved on at all. I’m deeper into the pit of despair than I was, only now I have one less thing that belongs to me.
Because I gave it to Asher.
A boy I don’t even like.
After spending time with strange men in the past, I realize that virginity is a sacred thing. People tried taking it, tried doing things nobody as young as I was should have experienced. The thing is, I’m one of the lucky ones. A lot of girls don’t make it out with their innocence.
Giving my virginity to Everett was meant to be a ginormous deal.
It also means giving it to Asher Wilks was probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.
“River.” Everett’s voice snaps me from my train of thought.
Bolting toward the overnight bag on my bed, I zip it up and throw it over my shoulder. “I have to go,” I whisper brokenly.
“That’s it?”
“What else is there to say?”
He stares at me for a long, uncomfortable minute. Then he shakes his head, something dark flashing in his eyes.
When I walk past him toward the door, he calls out my name. I stiffen, afraid of what he’s going to say. My grip on the bag tightens as I face the stairs, tasting freedom in any form that doesn’t have Everett in it.
All he says is, “Your shirt is on backwards.”
14
Everett / 20
Dinner at the James’ last night is no different than it was before Oliver and I left. Except the obvious void where River usually sits.
Robert asked Oliver how school was going and tried encouraging him to move home early to work for him like I am. Oliver declined his father’s offer like I knew he would. He’s not interested in working at JT Corp. Then again, I said I’d never end up there either. Look at me now, the epitome of a lost boy looking for the right path.
My apartment is a three-bedroom, two-bath in the isolated side of town. It’s bigger than one man needs, but I like my space. Plus, Issy finds herself here more than not. She doesn’t think I notice her clothes slowly taking up half of my closet or the unnecessary lotions and conditioners littering my master bathroom.
I know what Issy thinks. If she moves her things in, I’ll have no choice but to let her stay permanently. She still lives in the guest house at her parents’ place. In her mind, we’re ready to move in together for good.
What Issy can’t grasp is that I don’t want to share my space. When I lived with Granddad, I didn’t mind. Having someone to care for made it easier. But I’m older, Granddad is dead, and Isabel isn’t the type of person who wants to be cared for. We’re too alike in that way, not wanting anyone to be responsible for our wellbeing.
I didn’t stop her from coming over late last night. We’ve been spending more time together since she swung by the office, which appeases her enough not to complain. It’s best that way, giving her what she wants within reason.
Her sleeping form is stretched out next to me, my black blanket covering her naked curves. She likes waking up to me pressing kisses down her neck or combing my fingers through her dark hair. But that always leads to sex and I just want to move on with my day without entertaining her.
Quietly, I slip out of bed and leave her to sleep. The coffee pot is set up, probably by Issy. She knows I like going to the café for coffee, but she doesn’t like my habit. Especially not when she’s still in my bed.
Sighing, I flick on the machine and pull out a mug from the shelf. Issy probably won’t be up for another hour, not to mention in the bathroom for at least an hour and a half getting ready for classes.
She travels to a college forty minutes away, some fancy private school her dad pays for. It’s funny that she still lives at home, considering he’s paid for everything else. I guess it’s harder to control people if they’re not close to you.
Somehow, my mind conjures the image of an auburn-haired, pale-skinned teenager at the thought. River can’t be controlled. Not by the James’s money, not by her past. She’s a wildcard, uncontrollable compared to the rest.
Maybe that’s another reason Issy doesn’t like her. She realizes River has a freedom that she doesn’t. It isn’t about some stupid crush or the fact that she’s part of a rich and well-known family.
I underestimated Isabel Allen.
When the coffee is done, I down my cup, dress in my running gear, and write Issy a note. I won’t be going my normal route, so she can’t “accidently” bump into me like she’s done hundreds of times before.
My feet take me down Third and Fifth Avenue and hook onto Chestnut Street. The wind whipping my face as my sneakers propel me forward does nothing to erase the thoughts from yesterday’s conversation with River. It heightens the anger, the hurt, everything I told myself not to feel.
I stop in front of the white house with a single blue door and a large bay window to the left. Two cars are parked in the driveway. A
flower garden is planted in the front yard by a small cherry tree.
Catching my breath, I walk up to the front door and ring the bell. A blonde-haired, middle-aged woman answers with a friendly smile.
“I’m here to pick up River James.”
15
River / 16
I wake up in the guest bedroom at Steph’s house feeling the success of my first real sleepover. Lena Donovan and Vanessa Kingsley are staying in Steph’s room with her, but Steph told me I could have my own so it’s easier for me.
One day, I’ll be brave enough to tell Steph everything. I’ll show her the scars because I want her to see them. I’ll tell her the story and maybe find some closure in having her know the truth about me.
Shortly after Oliver and Everett moved away for college, I closed myself off from everyone. Steph would come over and we would do homework and talk, but I never felt like I could open up to her. She loves talking about college and the future. I’ve never thought about mine before, never thought I’d have one.
Bridgette and Robert decided I should see a therapist once a week. I didn’t talk to her either. Or the shrink after that. Or the one after him. None of those strangers understood me like they said they did. They just kept pushing and pushing until I nearly lost it at my last session.
I did something I never thought I would have to do again. I begged Bridgette not to make me go back. There were tears, lots of them, and she promised she’d never put me through that again. The only thing she asked was that I talk to someone, to let them in.
The first year following my adoption, I finally told Bridgette about my last home. I told her about the dirty dishes, the moldy food, the alcohol and drugs. I told her about the way the man of the house hit us and yelled at us and threatened us if we stepped out of line. I wouldn’t tell her anymore because the way she looked at me changed. She saw me with something deeper than sympathy. She looked at me with pity.