This Point Forward

by Katrina Abbott

  “Hi,” he said back.

  “So,” I said.

  “So,” he echoed.

  “One for the road?” I asked, even though neither of us were going anywhere.

  And then we were kissing. Though I’m fairly sure he moved a half a second before I did, so I couldn’t be blamed for the kiss-attack.

  “We can’t do this,” he said against my lips a moment later. “I can’t get involved with you.” But his palms didn’t leave my face, he didn’t lean back. They were just words that didn’t mean anything.

  “We’re not involved,” I breathed, twining my fingers into his hair. “We’re just friends spending time together. It’s either this or poker, but I couldn’t find the cards.”

  “I thought we were watching a movie,” he said, his lips moving along my jaw, back toward my ear, making me shiver.

  “Yes, that’s right,” I said, running my hand down his warm nape. “Pride and Prejudice. The most romantic movie ever. How do you like it so far?”

  “I’m surprised how much I’m enjoying it,” he said, between kisses behind my ear and down my neck.

  “See?” I said, barely capable of speech as I looked at the black TV screen, my heart thudding in my chest and my breath coming in little gasps. “I told you.”

  A while later when I was starting to question my stance on virginity, he pulled back and looked at me, a hard swallow making his Adam’s apple move in his throat, making me want to kiss him there. Badly.

  But he was stopping, and I knew why and probably needed to get on board, too.

  He cursed as he traced his thumb across my cheekbone. “You’re...I don’t want to stop. But we have to.”

  I nodded. “I know.”

  “I’m leaving soon and I can’t...”

  I put up my hand to stop him. “I understand. You don’t have to explain. It’s fun though, right?”

  His fingers pushed into the hair above my ear. “It’s more than fun. You’re killing me, Emmie. You should go,” he said, still touching me.

  “Not yet,” I said.

  His eyes slid to mine. “You have to. I can’t be here doing this. I’m losing my focus.”

  I laughed. “Oh what? Fixing shingles? Mending fences?”

  He shook his head, but didn’t smile. “Come on,” he said as he took a deep breath and stood up. “I’ll walk you to the stairs.”

  I glanced at the TV. “What about the movie?”

  “I’ll read the box.”

  It was a joke. I knew he was trying to ease the tension, but I was wound too tight and more than a little bit frustrated. I had to think he was feeling much the same, but somehow managed to still maintain some control.

  We walked in silence to the bottom of the stairs, finding ourselves in the same spot again. “I’m leaving next week,” he said.

  “When?”

  “Saturday. A week tomorrow.”

  I could do a lot in seven days.

  Ho Ho...Ho?

  “You can’t wear that,” Celia said.

  Of course, I had to agree. Not that I was surprised at Chelly’s outfit, since I was well used to what she considered appropriate clothing, no matter how many times she’d been told otherwise. Actually, she wasn’t a stupid girl—quite the contrary—so I had to think she did it just for shock value.

  Okay, so maybe I was a bit shocked when she’d arrived at Celia and Kaylee’s door two seconds ago to model the costume she’d just received from her mail order. It was Wednesday night and we’d been studying for our algebra exam—well, Kaylee and I were studying while Celia read a novel—when Chelly made her grand entrance with a very sultry “Ho Ho Ho.”

  Now that was a double entendre if I’d ever heard one.

  “What?” she said, looking down at her outfit, something best described as slutty Mrs. Claus. She pulled down the skirt, but it still came nowhere near her knees, and hiked back up once she removed her fingers from the hem anyway. “It’s the Santa Hop, I’m dressed like Santa.”

  “Yes,” Celia said with an eye-roll. “If Santa’s Workshop is actually a brothel. If you do any actual hopping you’re going to show everyone your presents, if you know what I mean.”

  Kaylee snickered but then schooled her features into a very serious face. “Chelly, you can’t go out in public like that.”

  Celia chimed in again. “Even if it was appropriate, which it isn’t,” she enunciated slowly and clearly, making her point as though she were speaking to a child. “The dean would completely lose it.”

  Chelly turned to me, eyes wide in question. I nodded. “She’s right. You totally can’t wear that. The shirt is fine...” I leaned forward and pulled the two sides of it together to cover up her ample cleavage. “But only if you do it up. You’re going to visit kids at a hospital, Chelly. Come on.”

  She blinked at me several times before it seemed to sink in. “Fine,” she said on a long-suffering sigh. She muttered something about how is she ever going to land a hot doctor, before she turned, flashed us her frilly red underwear and headed back down toward our room, presumably to put on the rest of the costume.

  I looked at Celia. “I just...” and shook my head when I ran out of things to say. Not that anything else needed saying.

  She nodded along, grinning. “I know.”

  “Are you sure you two don’t want to come tomorrow?” I asked. “It’s bound to be entertaining.” I was really only asking Celia, since Kaylee was something of a hard core studier and I knew with her last exam the following day, there was no way she’d give up an evening of hitting the books to go around to the hospital and the shelter to give out gifts. It’s not that she didn’t care, just that she was wound way too tight worrying about getting a scholarship. Rosewood did exams before Christmas because too many girls got whisked off for big extravagant vacations and the parents didn’t like their girls being saddled with schoolwork and studying during their time off. It was good that we never had to worry about school during the holidays (unless you were like me and had nothing better to do anyway), but it mean that our semester was accelerated and we had more ground to cover. Hence Kaylee’s yearly pre-Christmas meltdown. Though I had to admit, she was weathering it better than usual this year, which likely had something to do with a cute future duke who seemed to enjoy helping her study.

  But Celia was hardly concerned about marks, seeing as she probably hadn’t even cracked the spine on any of her textbooks, so I thought maybe she’d be into joining Chelly and I as we went with the dean into town to meet up with Dave and deliver our holiday cheer. It was nice that Chelly was coming, but the more the merrier, right? Especially since I’d be seeing Dave. I mean, I had to get over him sooner or later and Brooklyn blowing him off made it slightly easier, but it was still awkward.

  “Nah,” Celia said. “I think I’ll just stay here and study.”

  Kaylee’s head snapped toward her. “You’re going to stay here and study.”

  Celia glanced at her. “Yeah.”

  Kaylee nodded toward the novel in Celia’s hands. “Like you’re doing right now?”

  Seeing a fight coming, I got up off Kaylee’s bed, taking my books with me. It was almost time for me to get ready for bed anyway. “G’night girls, don’t kill each other,” I said over my shoulder as I left their room.

  I stopped in the hallway about halfway to my room when I saw a man come out of my dorm room. Chelly! I thought, anger instantly bubbling up inside me at her carelessness. Then she followed him out and she was chatting and laughing like it was normal for her to be having a conversation with a boy in the hall of our dorm where boys were strictly forbidden (and she was barely dressed)! Then the boy seemed to notice me, turning his head toward me and I realized it wasn’t just any boy, it was Rob. In my room. With Chelly. And her boobs practically in his face. Jealousy piled onto the anger and I had to hold myself back from running down the hall toward them.

  I’d never been the jealous type, but thinking of Chelly throwing herself at Rob made my st
omach churn.

  “Hey, there she is,” he said with a smile, like it was no big deal for him, either. I looked from him to her and back to him before my gaze finally settled on her. I didn’t know his tells, but Chelly had a million.

  And she didn’t look the slightest bit guilty.

  He already told you he wasn’t into her, I reminded myself. But myself didn’t want to believe that a guy could not be into Chelly. Especially when she was wearing the most revealing scrap of red flannel ever manufactured.

  “What’s up?” I said as casually as possible as I approached them.

  Rob pointed through my open door. “I brought up Brooklyn’s trunk from storage. She said you would put all her stuff in so I can send it to her?”

  “Oh yeah, right,” I said, cringing because I’d actually forgotten about it. “Sorry, I was supposed to call someone to get that brought up.”

  He waved me off. “It’s okay. I’ve been busy, too. Just let me know when it’s ready and I’ll come back.” He grabbed the dolly that I hadn’t noticed in the hall and saluted us both before he turned and walked down the hall toward the elevator.

  “Watch out for the blood,” I said, nodding toward the big ornate doors as he pressed the button. I would never forgive him for making me watch that movie. I still couldn’t bring myself to get on the elevator. But more than that, I really didn’t want him to go.

  “Redrum,” he said in a guttural voice that gave me shivers.

  “Jerk! You still owe me!”

  He disappeared into the (seemingly blood-free) elevator and the doors closed, but not before I heard another echoey “REDRUM!” from inside.

  “What was that?” Chelly asked.

  “You’ve obviously never seen The Shining,” I said.

  She shook her head. “Any hot guys in it?”

  “That depends,” I said walking through our doorway, past the big trunk, and dropping my books onto the desk so I could start to pack up Brooklyn’s things.

  Chelly let the door close behind her and dropped onto her bed. “On?”

  “Jack Nicholson in the 80’s?”

  She shivered. “That sounds terrifying.”

  “You have no idea.”

  ~ ♥ ~

  I’ve got it bad, I realized as I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. Just the thought of Chelly and Rob together had created some sort of jealousy monster in me. I didn’t want to think it was because of what had happened with Dave and Brooklyn, but maybe I was feeling a bit insecure these days.

  That and I could no longer deny that I liked him. Really liked him.

  I was in trouble.

  Once I finished washing off my makeup, I patted my face dry and stared at my reflection. Rob kept saying we couldn’t be together, but we couldn’t seem to stop making out and he was definitely a willing participant in that activity. That had to mean something, right?

  I looked at the bathroom door and smiled as I could hear Chelly singing along with her current favorite song. I wanted to talk to someone about it, but for some reason, she wasn’t who I wanted. She was the fun party girl who had breezy flings with boys and I wasn’t sure she knew what it was like to have feelings for one of them. Real feelings, like the kind that made you want to push one of your friends to the ground if she got too close to the guy you have feelings for. I needed to talk to someone who really got that.

  I slipped my phone out of my pocket and opened up a text to Brooklyn. Okay, so it was about her brother and maybe she wasn’t going to like that, but it’s not like Rob and I had done anything really serious yet.

  Though when I looked at the time, I realized it was the middle of the night in London. I sighed, but figured nothing was going to resolve itself overnight, so I may as well start the conversation now and she could text me back when she got up.

  Hey, I sent. I would love to talk to you when you’re able. It’s going to be weird, but I need someone to talk to.

  What do you mean by weird? she sent back right away.

  Guilt washed over me as I sat on the toilet lid. Crap, did I wake you?

  No, I was up reading.”

  Everything okay? I sent, worried she was an insomniac like me.

  Yes. Just a night owl, I guess. What’s weird?

  My fingers hovered over the screen. I blew out a breath and started typing. I have it bad for your brother.

  There was a long pause before she sent back, I thought it was just casual. For both of you.

  Something happened.

  What?

  Even though she wasn’t there with me and it was her and not her brother I was confessing to, my heart was thudding hard in my chest as I typed. I’m falling for him. He’s a great kisser and...I don’t know. I’m just into him. He keeps saying we have to stop, but we seem to be unable to.

  You’re right. This is weird.

  I smiled. But I need your help.

  With what?

  What am I supposed to do?

  I slid my thumbnail between my teeth as I waited for her reply, afraid of her answer, but caring what she thought. And I sure couldn’t figure this out on my own.

  Finally her reply came. You should stop messing around with him.

  But I don’t want to, I thought. I sighed. Mostly because she was right. But... What if he doesn’t want to stop?

  You said he keeps saying you should stop.

  Crap. Yes.

  He probably likes you. He’s probably just worried about his job and responsibilities. And that you’re younger and my roommate. That has to be weird for him, too.

  She made good points, but most importantly: You think he really likes me?

  Her reply was immediate. He wouldn’t fool around with you if he didn’t.

  I wasn’t sure how well Brooklyn knew her brother when it came to his love life, but I wanted to believe her. And she had told me that deep down he was a good guy. Maybe it wasn’t his fault that he was a heartbreaker. I mean, all you had to do was look at the guy to know girls would pretty much fall at his feet. I had. He was bound to steamroller a few hearts no matter how much he tried not to; I just hoped mine wasn’t in his path of destruction.

  “Emmie?” Chelly said, knocking on the door.

  “Out in a sec,” I yelled back and looked back down at my phone.

  You’re a good friend, I texted. I miss you.

  Miss you too.

  I’d better go. And you should go to sleep.

  Emmie? He wouldn’t hurt you on purpose.

  I stared at the text and felt my heart leap into my throat. I knew she was right, but I also knew that in the end, whether he did it on purpose or not, he was probably still going to hurt me. And it was going to be ugly.

  I know. Good night, Brooklyn.

  Trunk

  The inside of Brooklyn’s trunk looked clean, but I decided wiping it out with a damp cloth wouldn’t hurt after it had been down in storage these several weeks. Once I was done, I pulled down her clothes from the closet and piled them all on the bed before turning to her dresser.

  When I got to her underwear drawer, I found a box stuffed in the back. I hesitated, not wanting to violate her privacy, but really curious. Not that I felt like she was hiding something from me, but when you live in close quarters with someone, you kind of figure you know everything about them, including the contents of the room they share with you.

  It was probably just a jewelry box, but if it was, and was full of jewelry, I wasn’t about to put it in the trunk to be shipped in bulk overseas; it would need to be shipped separately. Securely. Which meant I needed to know what was inside. Or so I told myself as I gave the box a little shake.

  Something shifted inside, though it was impossible to tell what it was. Knowing Brooklyn would want her stuff handled appropriately, I told myself to stop being silly and opened it.

  Empty.

  I shook it again. No, there was definitely something inside.

  Now even more intrigued, I glanced up toward the bathroom door; Chelly was in
there, and for some reason, my instincts told me not to involve her in whatever this was. I quickly felt around to see if there was a trick to the box, hoping to figure it out before she emerged. No such luck, so I stuffed it into my own dresser for later.

  I pulled down more of Brooklyn’s clothes from the closet and began folding the pieces, placing them neatly in the bottom of the trunk, continuing when Chelly came out of the bathroom, like I hadn’t found anything odd, hoping she didn’t clue in that I was hiding something from her.

  Though when she started bugging me about my ‘hot felon,’ I pretty much immediately stopped feeling guilty about it.

  ~ ♥ ~

  Later on as I lay in bed while Chelly was down in the lounge with the other girls (she was very accommodating when she realized I needed to get to bed super early—which also meant I was careful to be really quiet in the mornings while she got to sleep in) I opened up a new text to Rob.

  B’s trunk is packed, I sent.

  Thanks. She’ll appreciate that. I’ll pick it up tomorrow while you’re in classes and will ship it to her.

  So you’re still leaving on Saturday?

  Yes.

  My heart ached as I thought of him leaving me even just for a couple of weeks. When are you coming back?

  Not sure. My ticket is open, but probably before school starts.

  Not wanting to seem too pathetic about him leaving, I sent back: Brooklyn hasn’t told me when she’s returning.

  I don’t think she knows yet.

  Which is what she’d told me. I sighed. I missed her, even though Chelly was fun, too. Though she, too, would be gone in a few days. Goodbye sleep, it’s been nice knowing you.

  I’m going to be pretty lonely. Will you text me? I sent, suddenly not even caring how pathetic it made me.

  If I can. I suspect I’ll be busy.

  My heart hurt at his words that sounded like a blow off. I thought back to our time in the lounge, the kissing, how he’d told me he’d get involved with me if he could. Was he being intentionally distant now to make it easier to bear being apart?