by Alex Light
“I can’t live with this pain anymore. I can’t carry around this sadness because it’s stopping me from being the person I want to be. I . . . I can’t be that person if I still hate you.” I whispered the last part. Even after everything, it still broke my heart to say these words that would break his. “I forgive you for leaving us.”
“I’m not sure I deserve your forgiveness,” he whispered.
“You don’t. But I’m giving it to you anyway.”
We were silent for a moment. I realized it had begun to rain. It was a drizzle, a few drops landing on my shoulders. Not loud enough to hear, but faint enough that you couldn’t ignore it either.
“You’re falling in love?” he asked.
“I am,” I said, wiping a tear off my cheek, “and it’s greater than any book I ever read.”
Suddenly, I wanted to continue. I wanted to tell my father all about Brett and the way he made me feel. I wanted him to know everything and my heart burned for the man I used to look up to. But I had to remind myself that man was gone. The person standing in front of me was not the father I had known five years ago, and he had lost the right to know about my life the night he walked out the door.
I began to walk away, back down the steps, and then I stopped. There was one last question I needed an answer to. “Was it worth it?” I asked, turning around. “Leaving us for this new life. Was it worth it? Are you happier?”
“I don’t know how to respond to that,” he said.
That was all the answer I needed.
“Goodbye, Dad.”
The walk down the driveway felt like miles. It was raining now, pouring down and soaking through my clothes. I stopped, turned my face to the sky, and let the water wash the past off me. The memories and the pain and all those questions that had held me down like an anchor—I stood there and smiled as they washed away. And for the first time in years, it felt like that constant weight pressing down on my chest was gone. I could breathe freely.
I started to run then, down another familiar route. This time I ended up at Brett’s house. I was soaking wet when I knocked on the door and I couldn’t stop smiling. I felt so happy. So normal.
When Brett pulled open the door, I jumped into his arms. I grabbed his face and I kissed him because now I wanted to move into the future with him.
I was laughing when our faces parted. “Hi,” I said.
He was smiling, sun after a rainstorm.
“Hi,” he said back. Then we both realized it was still raining and the door was wide open. Brett pulled me inside. “Let me get you a towel.” He disappeared down the hall and jogged back, towel in hand. He wrapped it around my shoulders, rubbed his hands up and down my arms.
“Brett!” a voice called from the other room. His mom. “Who’s here?”
“Becca!” Brett yelled back. Then he turned toward me. “You wanna watch a movie with us?”
I told him yes, there was actually nothing I’d like more than that.
We walked into the living room and his mom was sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket. The television was paused but I was staring at the man sitting beside her. It was Brett’s father. I quickly glanced at Brett, studying his face for some hidden trace of anger. But he was smiling, and he seemed genuinely . . . okay.
“Dad,” he said, slipping his arm around my waist, “this is my girlfriend, Becca.”
I shook his hand in a daze. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said. He had the exact same eyes as Brett.
“You too, Mr. Wells.”
I sat next to Brett on the couch. His mother clicked play on the remote and the movie began. Minutes had passed before I turned to him and whispered, “Brett?”
He tilted his head toward mine. “Yes?”
I looked at his parents, then back to him. “Is this okay?” I whispered.
He nodded, squeezed my hand. With the smallest of smiles, he said, “I think so.”
Brett’s backyard had a swing chair. It had a lot of cool stuff. Like a shiny metal table set, couches with overstuffed pillows, and even a fancy fireplace with blue flames. But my favorite was the swing chair. I liked the way it rocked back and forth when Brett pushed his feet off the ground.
It had stopped raining, and we wandered outside after his parents left, announcing they were going out for dinner. Now we were sitting on this chair while the sun set in front of us. That was another one of my favorite parts of his backyard: the view. There were no houses or buildings to see, just this far stretch of land that eventually turned into trees. It made the sunset look even more spectacular.
Usually, sunsets were gradual. Slowly the sky turned yellow, then pink, then orange before it all became black. Not tonight. Tonight, the sun set like someone hit the fast-forward button. The sky was blue one second, then blinding orange the next.
I don’t know why I was so obsessed with the sky. Maybe it was the idea of a new day, a fresh start. Or maybe I just liked the way it looked. Not everything had to have some big meaning behind it.
When the sky was black, Brett said, “My dad’s going to start staying here again.” Then he pulled me closer until my back was to his chest. He was wearing a gray hoodie that smelled just like him. “And I got my essay back from Miss C. Got a B plus, thanks to you.”
“It wasn’t all me,” I said.
I thought about telling Brett what I did today, visiting my dad, before deciding not to. For some reason, I wanted to keep that little piece to myself.
It started to rain again. I stood up, ready to head back inside, when Brett pulled me onto his lap. He was shaking his head, this evil smile on his face before he leaned in and kissed me. Even under the small cover of the swing, the wind blew the rain onto us. I could feel it on my neck, feel how wet Brett’s hair was when I ran my fingers through it. I pressed my hand onto his heart and felt it beating right there, so close. I felt the way his fingers danced across the bare strip of skin above the waistband of my jeans.
I could feel everything.
I let my head fall back, felt the rain on my face for the second time that day. When I looked at Brett, there were droplets dripping down his face. His hair was flopping over his forehead and his eyes looked navy blue in the darkness. He was all skin and soft angles.
For some reason, my mind went back to that very first day, when I was sitting under the oak tree behind the football field. “I used to categorize my days,” I told him. “Some were worth remembering and some I wanted to forget.”
“Which one is today?” he asked.
I didn’t even have to think about it. “One to remember.”
Neither of us said anything for a moment. We sat there, staring at each other. There was beauty in the way his eyes held mine, in the way we held each other. Even when we didn’t speak, it was still beautiful.
“Becca?” My name felt so familiar on his lips.
I nodded, wiping the hair off his forehead.
“I think I’m in love with you,” he whispered, closing his eyes.
My heart seemed to leap out of my chest then. I was sure that if I looked up, I’d see it sailing past the stars, the moon. And when he kissed me, I searched for metaphors, for similes. For the “like” and the “as,” but I couldn’t think of a single thing but how it felt to have him so close to me. I searched for the words to put this feeling into thoughts and I came up empty. Or maybe I was just too full, full of whatever this feeling was.
Stop overthinking, I told myself. Feel.
So I did.
“I love you too,” I said.
Brett smiled. The stars fell from the sky and landed on his face. It was the brightest smile of them all.
“You do?” he asked.
“I do,” I said, laughing. “I don’t think I even realized it until just now. But I do love you, Brett, because you make me feel safe. You make me feel hopeful. I never thought I’d love anyone. And with all the downsides of love, you managed to show me the upside,” I whispered, holding his cheek in my pal
m, his heart in my hand.
Brett was watching me as if I were the sun his world revolved around, and I couldn’t quite fathom how I’d ended up here. How, on a planet with billions of people whose lives would never cross, I managed to capture the heart of the most beautiful one.
I tilted my chin up as Brett leaned down, our lips yearning for each other’s. His mouth met mine and my world exploded into a million tiny fragments. He tasted like peppermint, like home and every good thing mixed into one.
I wasn’t sure how we ended up back inside his house or how the two of us fumbled up the stairs without falling and then tumbled onto his bed. His body felt so new, so right, and I let my hands trail across his skin like he was a map, undiscovered territory. When Brett lifted my shirt above my head, I felt myself blush, all the way from my cheeks to the tips of my toes.
“I don’t want you to be embarrassed,” he said, lifting his head from my chest until his eyes met mine. They were so dark, those black holes again. “I love every single thing about you.”
I trembled as he kissed my jaw, my neck. I felt my armor cracking, every wall I’d built up around my heart tumbling down. His lips were undoing them, one by one, unraveling me from the inside out. And then his mouth crashed into mine and my entire world shattered. When the fragments blew away it was only Brett left, shining above me.
Brett
I REALIZED THAT NIGHT THERE was only one thing Becca needed to be happy. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t even books. It was the shocking, slightly disturbing obsession she had with cotton candy ice cream.
After she had showered and was drowning in my clothing, she sat down on the couch and hit me with those eyes, asking, “Brett, do you have any cotton candy ice cream?”
“We only provide quality ice cream in this household. But . . . I may have something even better. Wait here.”
I ran up the stairs two at a time. I went to my bedroom and searched through my closet until I found it, tucked in the corner of the top shelf. It was the only book I would read as a kid. My mom was always buying me books to make up for all the hours I spent throwing a football around the backyard with my father. It didn’t work. I always chose the football.
Book in hand, I raced back down the stairs and jumped over the back of the couch, landing beside Becca, who flinched. She was shaking her head—disapproving as always—as I placed the book in her lap. She picked it up quickly, running her fingers along the cover.
“‘Goosebumps’?” she read aloud. I nodded proudly. “Why are you giving me this?” She tucked her foot under her thigh and turned to me.
“First of all,” I said, “easy on the judgment, Hart. You’re holding my childhood in your hands.”
She giggled. Actually giggled. She even held the book up to cover her face.
“This is what you read as a kid?” she asked.
“That, and only that.”
“Is this supposed to impress me?” she teased.
Yes. Was it working? “Have you read this?” I asked. She shook her head and I jerked my chin back toward my neck, disgusted. “Come on. Get comfy.” I stretched into the corner of the couch, then patted my chest.
“What?”
“Get comfy,” I repeated. “I’m reading this to you.”
“I don’t want to read that, Brett.”
“Why? Because there’s no romance? No love?” I said, wiggling my fingers. “I’m reading it to you, so there’s nothing to complain about. All you need to do is listen to my voice.”
Becca rolled her eyes. I was sure one day they’d get stuck like that.
“You really want to read to me?”
“No,” I answered. “Believe me, there are a million things I’d rather do with you than read this book, but we kind of just did that, so . . . come here. You always tell me about your books; now give one of mine a try.”
I was halfway through the second sentence when she said, “Wait. Is this scary?”
“These books are for children. And I thought you were all horror-movies-don’t-scare-me tough?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.
“I am,” she said, jabbing her elbow backward into my chest. It actually kind of hurt. “But words are scarier than images.”
“I think you’re the only person on this planet who thinks that.”
“Look, an image is there in front of you. Right? You stare at it but then you can look away and it’s gone,” she said. “Words aren’t like that. They build an entire world around you. It’s not something you look at, it’s something you’re inside. That makes it scarier.”
“I understood none of that.”
She sighed. “Is it scary or not?”
“No, Becca. And if it is, I will protect you from all the fictional horror. Can I continue?”
“You seem very excited to read this.”
She was right. I was. I loved the thought of sharing something that was important to me with her.
I rested one arm on the couch and wrapped the other one around her waist until she was caged against me, the book held in front of the two of us. When she nestled herself back into my chest, I continued reading. I was glad she didn’t comment on how my voice sounded a little breathless. It was kind of pathetic what being so close to her did to me.
When I was halfway through the fifth chapter, Becca let out a long breath. It blew her hair around her face and it was like she finally let herself relax, let herself breathe. Her head rolled slightly to the side until her nose was pressed against my neck. I could feel her lips brush against my skin, feel her breath there too. Her hand slid up my chest and stopped over my heart. Then she just left it there.
I kept reading the entire time.
“Brett?”
“Yeah?”
“You’ve read the same sentence three times.”
I had?
“Sorry,” I mumbled. Her breath was still there, fanning across my neck. “You make it hard to concentrate.”
“Do I?” she asked, lifting her head from my chest, pointing her chin up until her eyes met mine. They were darker than normal, like the sky after a rainstorm and the ocean, swirled into one. I could drown in them, I realized. I was drowning in them.
I really did love her. And here, in the darkness, it was like those words were all that existed. That and my heart beating too quickly. And Becca’s lips too close. And the way her eyes fluttered closed for a second longer than normal after drifting to my mouth.
“Becca?”
“Yes?”
“No more pretending,” I said. “No more faking. No more any of that.”
Her eyebrows drew together. I ran my thumb across the lines. “I know that,” she said, pausing to yawn. “Why are you saying this again?”
“Because I need you to know that this is real.”
Then I kissed her, and it felt like I was sliding off the edge of the world.
Her eyes drooped closed, fingers slowly touching my cheeks, holding me to her. When I tugged her with me back onto the couch, until we were lying chest to chest, she let me, her mouth never leaving mine.
I could feel her hand slide from my face to my arm and stop there, holding me. Good, I thought, don’t let go.
“It feels like the world is going to explode when I kiss you,” I whispered.
“Then let it explode,” she said.
I tugged her face back to mine and did just that.
Becca
I WAS SITTING UNDER THE oak tree behind the football field, watching practice. Tomorrow night was Brett’s first game back on the team. It was somewhat of a big deal. His parents were going to be there. My mom and Cassie were coming too. And it was weird, not being nervous for our worlds to clash a little more. Slowly, I stopped trying to keep my mom and Brett apart with a ten-foot pole.
They’re both big parts of my life. A little crossover couldn’t hurt.
The team had been practicing for a while now—I’d stopped paying attention after the first hour. Now I was reading my book, whisked away into another world.
I was halfway through a page when I looked up to find Brett jogging toward me. The sun was making his hair shine that familiar golden hue.
“Shouldn’t you be ripping your shirt off and running laps?” I called.
He was grinning, looming in front of me and hogging all the sun. “You’d like that, huh? Scoot over, let’s share.” I inched to my left, making room on the tree trunk for Brett to rest on. He was leaning back, eyes closed, out of breath.
“They’re staring at you,” I whispered, watching his teammates.
“Ignore them,” he said, pressing his face into my neck. “Read to me.”
“Shouldn’t you keep practicing?”
“I’ve done enough drills for the day.” He plucked the book from my hands, inspected the cover. “I recognize this one. Haven’t you read this, like, a hundred times?”
“Twenty, actually,” I said, snatching it back. “Today marks the twenty-first time.”
He grinned. Shook his head.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing. Nothing at all,” he said, jerking his chin toward the book on my legs. “Read to me.”
“Why?”
“Because you go somewhere else when you read. I want to go there with you.”
We sat there and I read aloud, my back to Brett’s chest. He pulled me a little closer, held me a little tighter. And this time, we escaped together.
Acknowledgments
Let’s start at the beginning:
To Wattpad and Episode Interactive, the writing communities that allowed me to find my voice and a passion for words.
To the readers who stumbled across this book when it was nothing more than a rough draft published online with a different title. This book is ours, and I hope you approve, many drafts later!
To the incredible team at Wattpad that worked to turn a girl’s pipe dream into reality. And Alysha, who was with me every step of the way.
To Catherine, my editor at HarperCollins, who took a very rough draft and sprinkled a little magic on it.
To my friends, you know who you are. The people that stayed up late with me brainstorming title ideas. Who offered endless pep talks and helped me write these very words. I couldn’t have done it without you.