Life In Reverse

by Beth Michele

  I sneak under her shirt, my fingertips grazing her smooth skin. “Is that a promise?”

  “That,” she kisses me hard on the lips then slides off my lap, “is a guarantee. Now come on, let’s go. Time’s a wastin’.”

  She’s right, and I no longer want to waste another minute of it.

  Ember holds out her hand to help me stand, closing her fingers around mine. I place the letter next to the painting and together we head off to join everyone in the living room. As we reach the bottom step, the front door bursts open and Riley runs inside. Red and orange leaves stick to his hair and shoes. That rosy-cheeked face scanning the room until his big blue eyes zero in on Ember and me.

  “You’re here!” Riley makes a beeline for Ember, bowling her over with a hug.

  “Hey, Riles.” She bends down to greet him, his tiny face buried in her long hair.

  “Well… I guess I’ve been replaced,” I mutter dejectedly. Ember and Riley glance up at me.

  “Never.” Ember reassures me with a bright smile before looking to Riley. “Right, little guy?”

  “Never,” he repeats, trying to replicate her expression with his slanted grin.

  “Hey, you lost a tooth.” His smile grows as he taps one finger against the empty space between his teeth.

  “I did. And the tooth fairy came. I got ten dollars!”

  “Holy cow.” I gape at Chris and his dad. “Talk about inflation.” Everyone laughs as the screen door flies open again. This time, Ember’s dad walks in with Avery. His hair sticks up in a million directions, the buttons on his shirt off by one.

  “I’m sorry we’re late,” he mumbles, wiping sweat from his brow. “The convention ran over.” Avery turns around with a hand on her hip, piercing her father with a pointed glare.

  “Dad.” She starts out angry, but then shakes her head and smiles. “I just spent three hours at a woodworking convention in Manhattan. I need alcohol.” Avery’s mom throws her a stern glance and purses her lips. “Don’t look at me like that, Mom. You know what I’m talking about.”

  All is quiet until Riley climbs out of Ember’s arms and shrieks. “When is it time? When is it time?”

  Avery blows her blonde bangs away from her eyes as she stalks toward her sister, a question in her gaze. “Are you really still doing this?”

  Ember reaches out for my hand and squeezes. “We are.”

  Her smile softens and she touches Ember’s arm. “You know Zack is smiling big right now. Happy Birthday, Em.”

  “Happy Birthday, Ave.”

  EVERYONE IS GATHERED around the trailer, and what a fabulous group they are. My mother, dressed to the nines in her Donna Karan suit bites a single manicured fingernail, while my dad fiddles with a button on his plaid shirt. Still, I know somewhere deep down their happiness overshadows the nerves they might be feeling—because I think this is as important for them as it is for me.

  My gaze wanders to Julian and Avery who are goofing off, her flirty eyes captivating him just like old times. Next to them, Chris has an arm slung around his new girlfriend, Erika, his expression bright under the October sun. I catch a glimpse of Chris’s parents gawking at the two of them with happy smiles bursting from their lips. Then there’s Riley, jumping up and down like a pogo stick in front of Troy and his boyfriend, Quinn, as they all make silly faces at one another.

  To the right of the crowd stands Vance’s dad, finishing up a conversation with his son—the absolute love of my life. As I watch them, my vision clouds but I can’t help it. Seeing them together and close again makes my heart fill up with joy. I’m not sure either one of them realized how much they needed each other.

  Vance glances over and catches me mid-stare. His dad looks up and smiles, giving him a nudge in my direction. “We’ve got a pretty big audience over there,” he comments on his way, gesturing toward our big family. “It feels like we’re getting married or something.” One of his eyebrows shifts ever so slightly but I don’t miss it.

  “Don’t get any ideas, Davenport. I’m not ready to get married.”

  “Yet,” he mumbles loud enough for me to hear, and my heart beams. “By the way,” he adds, “if you’re holding out for me to climb up a fire escape with flowers and an umbrella, don’t think I won’t fucking do it.” He grins. “If that’s what it takes.”

  Have I mentioned I love him? I love him.

  Once all the harnesses and parachutes are checked and they give us the okay, we wave to everyone and follow the guides over to the plane. My feet slow, my stomach suddenly a ripple of nerves. I take a few deep breaths then turn to Vance. As if he senses my apprehension, he grabs my hand and tightens his fingers around mine. “We’re really doing this. Aren’t we?”

  A smile that somehow calms me and settles my belly forms on his lips. “We are indeed, Mickey. And….” He stops walking and lifts his other hand to caress my cheek. “I want you to know that being with you makes me happy. A happiness I wasn’t sure was real or even possible for me.”

  My skin warms to his touch and his words. “Why does that sound like something you say to someone before you never see them again?”

  “Fuck no,” he retorts, and I grin at his choice language. “We’re jumping together and we’re landing together. Just remember two things. One… breathe. And two….” He looks at me then, really looks at me, so much love shining in his eyes that my heart nearly explodes from it. “I’ll catch you if you fall. I promise.”

  And I know he will.

  Keep reading for an excerpt of For the Love of Raindrops by Beth Michele.

  A Best Friends to Lovers Story

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  I SNUCK OFF to that room again. He never looked for me in there. With all of the cardboard boxes piled high and the old desk in the corner, it was the perfect place for me to hide out and write or draw. Two things I loved to do more than anything in the whole world. But he didn’t like that, so I hid.

  With the precision of a ninja, I crept over to the chair and sat down. I’d grown pretty good at being sneaky from playing spy games with Jordan.

  I looped my pinky through the rusty handle of the desk drawer to pull it open and grabbed a piece of paper. As it creaked, my eyes widened and went right to the door. Afraid that he’d heard, I waited a minute and when all remained quiet, slid the drawer closed, more carefully though.

  I tapped the pen against my lips a few times and smiled, before the pen found the paper, bringing my thoughts to life. It only took a second for the words to come pouring out, because I was thinking about Evie. She made my heart go batshit crazy. Wait. Was batshit even a word? I didn’t care, because it was true.

  Your smile is like the sun

  Your eyes are like the ocean

  Your heart is my safe place—

  “What are you doing in here?” My father’s booming voice startled me as the door flew open. His boots sounded harsh against the wood floor, reminiscent of the giant in Jack and the Beanstalk. Angry lines were drawn all over his face. My hands trembled as I snatched the paper and held it underneath the desk.

  He got closer, and I smelled it. The strong scent of that brown liquid he drank all the time. I tried to hold my breath because I didn’t like it. Not that he cared what I thought. He never had.

  “I asked what you’re doing in here, Dylan!” His biting tone made me shrink in the chair. I hadn’t even done anything. But he didn’t need a reason. I knew he hated me. And the feeling was mutual.

  “I-I’m doing homework,” I stuttered. My stomach hurt and I pressed my hand over it, hoping to make the cramp go away.

  “Homework?” The fact that he was so tall made me feel timid and I sunk down further in the chair. “Why would you be hiding homework under the desk? Give me that paper.”

  “No.” I didn’t look at him when I said it, but I heard his breathing grow louder and knew he wasn’t happy with me. I
was used to it though.

  “Dylan. Give me that paper right now, or you’ll be punished.”

  I didn’t move, and I’m not even sure I was breathing. Normally, I wouldn’t have defied him, but I didn’t want him seeing my poem to Evie.

  Before I knew what was happening, he yanked the paper from my fingers, shredding it in two. I prayed he couldn’t see what I’d written but cringed as he let out a nasty laugh, and realized it was too late. “‘Her smile is like the sun,’” he said, emphasizing each word in a whiny, mocking tone. “‘Her eyes are like the ocean.’ What is this crap? You’re writing poetry again? What did I tell you about that?” He crinkled the paper up into a ball and threw it in the hallway, but it felt like he’d ripped up my heart. “Boys don’t write poetry, Dylan. Writing poetry is for pussies. Are you a pussy, Dylan?”

  “No, sir.” My blood was boiling over and I refused to look at him. He just took something that meant so much to me and basically spit on it. I wanted to do the same to him.

  “Good. Now get the hell out of here. I don’t want you near your mother’s things.”

  I ran out of the room like the coward that I was when it came to my father, trying to hold back my tears. I didn’t need another reason for him to call me names.

  “Oh, and next time,” he screamed, “try harder for your team. You played like shit today. That wasn’t good enough!”

  His words played over and over in my head, making me stumble up the stairs.

  He was probably right… I’d never be good enough.

  “DILLS, LET’S GO,” Evie said as she dragged me through her backyard and over to the side of the house. It felt like we were about to do something shady and I knew my father was going to be unhappy with me. Not that he needed another reason.

  “What are we doing? Am I going to get in trouble? Because if my dad finds out—”

  “No, now, shhh, I don’t want my parents to hear us.”

  We tiptoed around the corner. Evie shot her arm out to pull me under the porch and into a small hole of dirt. Then we crammed into the tight space side-by-side. She took a flashlight out of her jacket and flicked it on before she reached back into her pocket, yanking out a plastic bag. Something about this spelled bad news.

  “Give me your finger,” she whispered.

  “Huh?”

  “Give me your finger,” she ordered.

  “Okay, okay, stop being so bossy,” I told her, and she gave me her thin blue eyes.

  A second later, I let out a muffled yelp when a pin pricked the tip of my thumb. “What are you doing?”

  She covered my mouth with her small hand until I quieted down. “Well,” she started, and suddenly her lips were squished together and her eyes were sad. “I heard Braden James saying he was your best friend and you can’t have two best friends. I’m your best friend, so we’re going to take a blood oath.”

  I wanted to laugh at how cute she was, but she looked so serious that I kept my giggles hidden. “Okay, what do we do now?”

  “Now you prick my finger and then we rub our blood together.”

  I hesitated, because I didn’t want to be the reason she was bleeding.

  She looked over her shoulder then back, her knee doing this crazy bouncing thing. “Come on, Dills, hurry up.”

  I did as she asked and then she put the pin in the plastic bag, stuffing it back in her pocket. She grabbed her finger and pinched it until a bit of blood dripped out, and I did the same. Then we rubbed them together.

  “Okay, now we pinky swear,” she said, wiping the blood on her pants.

  I opened my mouth and my nose crinkled. “We have to pinky swear, too?”

  “Yes, as a backup,” she told me, and then we both started giggling. She looped her pinky around mine. “Best friends forever, right, Dills?” she asked with a big goofy grin on her face.

  I squeezed her finger and smiled just as big. “Forever, Evie.”

  “WHAT ABOUT THAT one, Dills?” Evie asked, pointing up at the cloud that I’d decided was shaped like a giant tyrannosaurus rex. We were lying side-by-side on our backs amid tall blades of green grass, holding hands.

  “That’s easy. It’s a t-rex. Hands down.”

  “Nope. Don’t think so.” She made a humming sound as if she was thinking very hard. “It looks more like a… giraffe. Yup, definitely a giraffe.”

  “Okay, let’s call a stalemate on that one.” I giggled, pointing in a different direction. “How about that one?”

  “That’s a jelly bean riding a bicycle,” she insisted, grinning when I turned to her.

  “Jelly beans can’t ride bicycles, smarty pants.”

  “In my world, they can,” she said, breaking out into laughter.

  “Oh right. It’s your world. I’m just living in it,” I teased, and she gave me a playful jab in the arm.

  “Good, since it’s my world, I want to play tag.” She let go of my hand and was gone in a flash, running across the yard. I shot up after her and took off.

  “I’m going to tag you, Evie Carmichael, and then you’re going to be it!” I yelled, puffing out lots of heavy breaths as I rounded the corner, trying to catch up with her.

  “No, you’re not!” she squealed, her long, skinny legs enabling her to run pretty fast for a girl. She bolted around the side of the house and that’s when I heard her scream. “Ahhhh.”

  “Evie!” I shouted, and thinking she was hurt, my heart sped up. “Are you okay?” I sprinted over to where she was lying face down in a pile of dirt. She was crying, her glasses sitting on a nearby mound of weeds. “What happened?”

  “I can’t move my leg.” Her usually squeaky voice was muffled, nose pressed against the ground.

  “Here, I’m gonna flip you over slowly, okay?” Crouching down next to her, I positioned my arms around her waist and rolled her until she was on her back. My hands immediately went to her leg to check for injuries.

  “Ow,” she continued to cry. “That really hurts, Dills.” She pushed herself up with her elbows then braced her ankle with both hands. Tiny specks of dirt covered her hair and clothes.

  “Can you walk?”

  “I don’t know.” She sniffed and rubbed her nose with her palm, and as I felt around a bit more, she closed her eyes tight and pressed her lips together. I took my hands away because I didn’t like hurting her.

  “I think you might have broken it. I’m going to help you up and get you inside. Then I’ll call your mom, okay?” I stood and walked over to pluck her glasses from the overgrown grass then cleaned them on my t-shirt. I wiped some of her tears away with my fingers, before gently placing the glasses back on her face. “You know,” I added, because all I wanted was to see her smile again, “I think you hopped into that hole of dirt on purpose. I might have to start calling you Hopper.”

  “Very funny.” She snorted then snuffled, and I put my hands underneath her arms as I lifted her to a standing position. She put all of her weight on her good leg. “Nice try, though.” She sent a half-smile my way, and that’s all it took to calm the fear, and my heartbeat. “Just give me your shoulder,” she said, pushy as always, and curled her arm around me.

  Little did she know, I’d give her the sun, the moon, even the stars. All she had to do was ask.

  THE SCREEN DOOR bangs shut behind me and I’m halted by the most beautiful sight.

  Evie Carmichael.

  “Hey, Evie!”

  The loud rumble of a passing car drowns out my voice, my heart humming in my chest as I struggle to take in air. But it’s just that—a struggle, my ability to breathe pretty much nonexistent whenever she’s around.

  The yelp of a nearby dog falls on my ears and I look away. A neighbor off in the distance gives me a wave before I blink and come back to Evie. She’s leaning into her trunk, a waterfall of red hair cascading down her back, tight jeans emphasizing her perfect, heart-shaped ass. We’ve been neighbors since the first grade, but things have changed significantly since then, to say the least.

&nbs
p; No longer is she the thin, gawky girl with floppy pigtails, brown wire-framed glasses, and braces. She is now a full-fledged woman, nineteen years old with long, auburn waves, straight white teeth, and curves that bend and dip in all the right places.

  I’m just about to dart across the street to help her unload her groceries when Jamie Harrington pulls up in his BMW convertible. He’s got asshole written all over his face and she can’t see it. She’s too caught up in his fake charm, sun-bleached blond hair, and the fact that he’s a surfer.

  Big fucking deal.

  Talk about polar opposites. I’ve got dark-brown, semi-longish hair and my eyes are so dark they’re almost black. I’m about six foot two and spend a decent amount of time at the gym, so I’m not lacking in tone. The flip side to that is I work at our family diner and the only time I smell clean is when I’ve had a fresh shower. Otherwise, the scent of French fries, burgers, and chicken patties are burned into my skin like the ink from a tattoo. But I make a mean chocolate milkshake, and that’s her favorite.

  “Hey, Evie,” I call out again, even though she’s thoroughly engrossed in her conversation with dickwad over there. It’s hard to believe she can’t see through his bullshit. She’s a smart girl, but someone needs to show her the error of her ways.

  I’d like to volunteer.

  There are a number of other things I’d like to sign up for, too, and the thoughts make me instantly hard.

  You see, a minor detail I forgot to mention is that I’m in love with Evie. I was in love with her even when she had braces and all sorts of disgusting things got caught in her teeth. I loved her when Tommy Pilson told her that her hair was an ugly red color and when Nancy Howell made fun of how bony she was—I threatened to beat their asses for it every time. It’s like I became superhuman whenever anyone intimidated her—because no one hurts my Evie.

  Unfortunately, she has no idea the depth of my feelings and just how desperately I want her. She looks at me like she always has—like the brother she never had, but always wanted. Screw that. I don’t want to be a brother to her. I want to be so much more.