Claimed

by Portia Moore

  “This is really good,” he says finally, after he’s finished two pages. He pushes the laptop back and glances over at me. “So what is this for you, Rain? Just a hobby? Or something more?”

  “I don’t know,” I confess. “I love writing…but it doesn’t really seem like something you can make a job out of. I mean…getting published is like a chance in a million. And I don’t exactly have tons of opportunities.”

  “Opportunity is just what you make,” Marcus says. He leans back in the chair and looks at me more steadily. “You’ve got some talent. You know, there are other ways to make money writing, not just novels and hoping to get published. If that’s what you want to do, sure, but you can do other stuff at the same time. Copywriting, content writing, ghostwriting…there’s a whole world out there. Tutoring, editing…” He trails off. “What are you planning to go to college for?”

  “I don’t know,” I say quietly. “I don’t even know where I’m going to apply yet. I guess somewhere close to home…”

  “Why?” Marcus’s voice doesn’t sound judgmental, just curious.

  I hesitate. “My family,” I say finally. “I don’t know if I could leave them.” I don’t go into details—I don’t know Marcus well enough for that. But it’s the truth, and I realize as I say it how sad it makes me. I want to experience more than just Indiana. I want to see what’s out there. But I feel guilty even thinking about leaving. And it’s not only that, but Zach…

  “There’s a lot of opportunities outside of Indiana,” Marcus says, as if he were reading my thoughts. “A lot of things you could do with your talent.” He peers at me, considering. “I don’t think your family would want you to waste that. But I don’t know you all that well.” He pauses, looking into my eyes. “Yet.”

  My breath catches a little. Does that mean what it seems to? I don’t have a lot of experience with guys flirting with me. “Do you want to?” I ask, before I can stop myself. He’s sitting so close to me, and he smells good. “Get to know me better, I mean.” I can’t believe I’m saying that out loud.

  Marcus smiles. “I think I might like to,” he tells me, his voice dropping a little. I see his eyes flick to my mouth and back up. “You’re a cool person, Rain Carlisle.”

  “You seem pretty cool yourself.” I bite my lip, looking back at my laptop. “You’re not just saying I’m good at writing because…” I trail off—it seems so conceited to say it. But I have a sudden fear that he has some ulterior motive in complimenting my work.

  Marcus laughs. “No,” he says, shaking his head, his eyes twinkling.

  I flush red. “I didn’t mean…”

  “Yeah you did,” he says easily. “But it’s okay, I don’t blame you for thinking that. But I wouldn’t compliment your stuff just for that.”

  By the time Marcus moves away from where I’m sitting, the butterflies in my stomach are going nuts. And when the writing group is finished for the night, and I’m walking out to my bike, he catches up to me.

  “Are you going to come back to another meeting?”

  “I think so,” I tell him, pushing a stray hair out of my face.

  He stops as we reach my bicycle, and I realize as my pulse speeds up in my throat that we’re alone in the parking lot. “Is that okay with you?” I ask in a whisper, looking up at him. He’s standing so close that he’s almost touching me, and I realize suddenly that this is a moment when I can make a choice. I can move away from him, and put distance between us, and signal that I’m not interested.

  Or I can stay where I am, and he might kiss me.

  I don’t move.

  He reaches out, his fingers sliding along the side of my jaw. I can feel my nerves spark to life under his touch, my skin prickling, and I realize for the first time that it’s possible to feel this with someone else. I don’t stop him, because I’m curious to find out what happens next. I’m curious to find out how it feels.

  His lips, when they touch mine, are full and warm and soft. His palm slides along my cheek, his tongue touching my bottom lip, and when I gasp slightly with surprise, I feel it slide into my mouth, brushing against my tongue. My hands stay at my sides, but I sway forward, feeling my body suddenly come alive, and I feel a warm, dull ache in my stomach, a need that I didn’t know I had.

  I hear him groan, feel his hand go to my waist, and for a second I have the urge to wrap my arms around his neck, to deepen the kiss. But there’s something missing. It feels good…but he isn’t Zach. And I’m not ready to go further than this, yet.

  I think of Zach, doing this in a bedroom somewhere with Jade, and pain shoots through my heart. It almost makes me want to keep going with Marcus…but revenge isn’t a good enough reason to do this. And I don’t want to resent Zach. Not even for that.

  I pull away. “I need to get home,” I say softly, and I see regret in Marcus’s eyes, but he nods. “Be safe,” he says, and his hand lingers on my waist for just a second before I turn to leave.

  Untitled

  Zach

  Three years earlier

  For the last several days, I’ve felt as if my world is being turned upside down and sideways. I’ve been beating myself up for giving in to introducing Rain to the crew, for giving her a chance to meet Roni, for not spending more time keeping her occupied and away from Roni. For not protecting her from the kind of people who will taint her.

  But at the same time, I can’t get the picture of her walking into the clubhouse in that dress out of my head. Everything about her was different, older, more confident. She never used to wear stuff that showed off her figure, but that dress let me see things I’d thought about many times—the slope of her breast in the low-cut neckline, the narrow curve of her waist, her long, slender legs. I don’t know anything about girls’ hair, but there was something different about that too—something that made her eyes look huge and her hair look bright and prettier than ever. It was a glimpse of what I’d envisioned Rain looking like in a few years, all grown up.

  Beautiful. And for a moment I forgot about Jade, forgot why I couldn’t be with Rain, forgot about every argument I’d ever had. Just for a moment.

  And then, of course, it all came rushing back.

  And we fought. Again.

  I hate fighting with Rain. After all, isn’t that why I’ve tried so hard to bury my romantic feelings for her? So we don’t fight, don’t argue, don’t create a divide between us? And yet, it’s happening anyway.

  I’ve never been more confused in my life. And on top of that, I know Jade isn’t really buying my “she’s just a sister to me,” line. And it’s going to be really hard to hide when we go out on that double date she keeps insisting we keep.

  Today I need to talk to her, to let her know we don’t have to do this, but when I pull up, it looks like maybe she’s already found her date because there she is. Rain in a miniskirt and crop top, leaning up against an old Honda Civic, talking to that goddamned guy. She’s looking up at him intently, playing with her hair, and from the way he’s looking at her and how close he’s standing, I know he has reason to think they’re more than just friends.

  Maybe he’s even kissed her already.

  Jealousy, hot and angry, flares through me. The idea of another guy kissing Rain, touching her, doing anything with her, makes me so angry that I want to stop the car, get out, and drag him away from her. I want to tell him to get the fuck away from her, to leave her alone.

  But I can’t, because she’s not mine.

  And I realize that I’ve found the thing I can’t protect her from.

  I park the car and get out, striding towards them. Rain glances over the guy’s shoulder and sees me, and her eyes go wide. She looks almost guilty, and I know with sickening certainty that their relationship has definitely gone further than just friendship. Maybe he’s only kissed her, but he’s at least done that.

  I want to kill him.

  “Zach!” she calls out, too brightly. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to talk to y
ou,” I say flatly. The guy steps back as I approach, but he doesn’t look nervous or guilty at all. If anything, he looks annoyed that I’ve interrupted them. Good, I think.

  I see a flash of sadness in Rain’s face, probably as she realizes that I’m really not coming back. I step closer, ignoring the guy. “Hey, can we talk for a minute?”

  She bites her lower lip, glancing at him and then me, and then nods. “Yeah, sure.”

  When we’re out of earshot, I look down at her, my heart suddenly hammering in my chest. If I’m not going to lose her, I’m going to have to open up to her. I’ve always tried to keep Rain away from my house, my family—and that’s yet another reason why I’ve always believed we can’t be together. But she clearly needs more from me. She needs me to be a better friend. And the only way I can do that is by letting her into my life more fully.

  “I want you to come over to my house after school.” I hesitate, the next words coming out in a rush. “My dad won’t be home until late, and I want you to meet my mom. Have dinner with us.” I look down at her, inwardly begging her to say yes. “Please, Rain?”

  Her face softens. Her whole body softens, and I realize that I should have done this a long time ago. How many mistakes have I made over the months, or years, that have gotten us to where we are now?

  What if not being with her—really with her—is a mistake too?

  “I’d love that,” she says, her voice a whisper, but her eyes are shining when she looks up at me.

  I’m almost jittery with nerves while I wait for Rain to come over later that evening. I try to keep myself busy—lifting weights, messing around with the car, but all I can think about is the wall that is about to come crashing down.

  And it shouldn’t be that big of a deal—after all, I’ve known about Rain’s alcoholic father for years. But I’ve always wanted to shield her from the truth of how awful my family is. How bad things are.

  Maybe it made sense when she was younger, I think. The thirteen-year-old Rain, who I rescued in the cafeteria, needed someone to shield her, to protect her. But maybe Rain now, sixteen and growing up, is strong enough to handle more of life. To be my support too, in the way that I’ve always been hers.

  Everything I’ve always clung to so securely feels shaky. And suddenly, the thought of the double date this weekend makes me feel worse than ever. Going out with Jade, who I know I don’t love, with the girl who I know I’m in love with but can’t have, seems like a recipe for disaster.

  My pulse leaps into my throat when I see Rain come riding down the driveway on her bike. I wipe off my grease-smeared hands on a rag and jog out to meet her. When I come up to stand next to her, I see her eyes sweep over me, and I realize with a wave of self-consciousness that my white t-shirt is sticking to my chest with sweat. Rain doesn’t look grossed out though—if anything, she seems to have a hard time looking me in the eye, and her cheeks are flushed red.

  “Come on in,” I tell her, gesturing towards the house as she leans her bike up against the side of the garage. “Mom’s probably in the kitchen.”

  That’s exactly where she is. She turns as Rain and I walk inside, her face flushed from cooking, her apron covered with flour. She looks exactly the way my father likes her to—the picture of a housewife. It makes me angry to see because whenever I do, I think of the picture that she used to have in the living room, of her slender and pretty, in a ballerina’s costume and shoes.

  My father has destroyed her. And I’m terrified that I could do the same to Rain one day.

  “Mom, this is Rain. My friend that I told you about.”

  “It’s so nice to meet you.” My mom steps forward, holding out a hand.

  Rain takes it, smiling. It’s a genuine, happy smile, and I realize she’s glad to meet my mom—to know more about my family. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Rostov.”

  And then, as naturally as if she’s been here a dozen times before, Rain starts to help my mother in the kitchen. I stand back and watch as she helps her with dinner, my mother handing her vegetables to peel and chop as she gets the meat ready for the steak and mushroom pie that she is making for dinner. I grab plates and start setting the table, but I can’t stop looking at her, and how easily she fits in, as if she’s known my mother forever and not for five minutes.

  For a brief moment, I can see a different future than the one I’ve laid out for myself, the only one I could see until now.

  If only my father wasn’t coming home tonight. If it was only my mom. If he wouldn’t come back drunk and angry because he lost money, blaming her for his fuck-ups. If I wouldn’t have to listen to him hitting her through the thin walls of our house.

  If, if, if.

  I push it out of my head. I can enjoy tonight, at least. I can like watching Rain help my mother cook. As we sit down at the table and my mother says the blessing over the food, I look at Rain out of my lowered eyes, watching her hair fall around her face. I hardly taste the food, even though it’s good, because I’m too busy thinking about the future that I’ve told myself I could never have, the one where Rain and I sit at a dinner table like this, in a tiny apartment, years from now when we’re all grown up.

  The one she wants, and I’ve told her that we can’t have.

  My mother looks happier than she has in a long time, too. She asks Rain about school, and what she likes to do, and Rain starts to talk about her writing group, her eyes lighting up.

  “We worked on a short story prompt Tuesday,” she explains. “And then we’ll pass them all around and critique them.”

  “And what do you want to do with that?”

  Rain shrugs. “I don’t know yet,” she says carefully. “But I need to think about what I want to do with my life. And maybe that’s it. Maybe I’ll major in English in college. If I can get in.”

  “You’re a bright girl. Just like my boy.” My mother smiles at me. “You’ll get in wherever you want to go. I try to talk to Zach, here, tell him to go. But he insists he stays home, takes care of me. So maybe you talk sense into him.” She winks at Rain, and I look down at my plate.

  There have been a hundred nights when I’ve wanted a normal family, for parents who love each other, for a dad who doesn’t talk down to my mom like a dog, for a chance at happiness. But it’s never been as clear to me as it is right now what I’m missing out on, how different my life could be.

  After dinner and dessert, Rain and I offer to clean up the kitchen together. And it hits me again—elbow to elbow over the sink as I rinse the dishes that Rain washes—how we could be doing this together one day, in our own place, if I could get my shit together.

  What if we wouldn’t repeat the mistakes of our parents?

  What if things could really be different?

  My mother goes to bed. I know she’s hoping that my dad won’t bother her when he comes home if she’s already asleep. I let Rain follow me back to my room after we finish the dishes, even though I know it’s a bad idea, for so many reasons.

  Rain looks around my room as we step inside, and I wish that I’d bothered to clean. Suddenly the clothes on the floor, the open bag of chips on my nightstand, and the carpet that hasn’t been vacuumed in weeks all seem disgusting, even though I hardly noticed them until right this second.

  But Rain doesn’t care. She perches on the edge of my bed, smoothing her hands over her jeans. She’s quiet for a long minute, and I shift nervously, wondering if I should sit down next to her. Would that be leading her on?

  The worst part is that I want her, so fucking bad. Seeing Rain sitting on my bed wakes up something in me that I haven’t felt before. I’ve always cared about her and thought she was beautiful. It’d been one of the hardest things I’d ever done to stop kissing her in the garage that day. But now, seeing her here—I know that if I sit down and she tries to kiss me, I won’t be able to stop her. And I won’t be able to convince either of us that we shouldn’t go further than that, either.

  “Are you sure you won’t come back to school?”
Rain looks up at me, her eyes sad. “I miss you already.”

  “I can’t,” I tell her flatly, looking away. “But I’ll still be around, Rain, I promise. You can come over more. I’ll try not to spend so much time at the clubhouse.”

  “What about Jade?” Now it’s Rain’s turn to look away.

  “Jade isn’t my girlfriend. She’s just someone…” I try to think of the right words.

  “That you’re sleeping with.” She says it casually but doesn’t look at me when she says it. I give her a half shrug.

  “We’ve got that date Friday night. I’m bringing Marcus.”

  “Who the hell is Marcus?” I ask, feeling jealousy pool in my stomach.

  “Just a guy in my writing group. He’s nice. It should be fun, right?” Rain mutters, playing with her fingertips.

  “Fun?” There’s no fucking way any date where me being across from Rain with someone else, seeing her with another guy would be fun, but I asked for this. I’ve made it this way.

  I hear the door open, and my heart drops to my feet. “Shit. Rain, you gotta sneak out of the window. My dad’s home.”

  She looks at me, clearly uncomprehending how big of a deal this is, but she doesn’t argue, she just nods.

  I can tell she doesn’t want to leave. As I yank the window open so she can fit through it and drop down to the shrubbery underneath, she bends down to crawl out and then looks up at me. For a second, her face is so close to mine, and the thought flashes through my mind that I could kiss her right then if I wanted. I can see the same realization on her face.

  But then she slips out of the window, just as I hear my dad yelling drunkenly if anyone is still awake, and I see her dart across the yard to the garage to grab her bike.

  It’s for the best. I repeat my mantra, but it’s getting harder and harder to convince myself of it. That what I’m refusing myself and Rain is a necessary sacrifice, and not just stupidity.