by K. S. Thomas
My initial response is to begin pacing. This hasn’t gotten any less weird since the first conversation we had about Reed. Or the second, when I told him about the date and he informed it was basically him or Reed. The two could never mix, because apparently, Reed is too insecure to date a girl who has guy friends. I have yet to determine whether this is true or not. I’m not in any rush to find out either way.
“Which one of us is making you nervous? Him or me?” Gun raises his brow, his lips tight in a smirk.
“I’m not nervous.”
“Liar.”
I cross my arms and stomp my way back to my bed, mostly because it means he can’t see my face while I do. If the steam coming through my pores is any indication, it’s beet red.
“Excuse me for being a little excited about my date. In case you forgot, this whole all American high school experience complete with the football star wanting to go out with me, is a little outside of the norm for me.”
“Got it.” He nods, wrists draped casually over the back of the chair, “It’s me.”
I scowl. “Why would you make me nervous?!”
“Beats me, but I’m clearly making you uncomfortable.”
I sigh. “Do you really want to hear about my date or do you just enjoy making me look stupid?”
His eyes narrow as he studies me. Gun’s good at that. Too good. I kind of hate it sometimes. Mostly because I’m never really sure what he’s looking for, or worse, what he finds.
“I want to hear about your date,” he says, sounding so genuine I almost believe him. Until he smiles. Then I know he’s faking it, because Gun is stingy with smiles. He wouldn’t blow one on Reed or anything even remotely related to him. But, he’s faking for my sake, so I oblige.
“He’s taking me to some little French bistro on the water. He said it’s beautiful and the food is amazing. Apparently, they have these Nutella Strawberry crepes for dessert? Anyway, he seems to think I’ll love it.” What he’s basing this on, I don’t know, but so far Reed has only evoked the most pleasant sensations and emotions inside me, so I’m feeling optimistic.
“French. Like, escargot?” The smile is gone, replaced by the standard half-smirk.
“I’ll probably pass on those,” I admit.
“And have raspberries in your crepes,” he adds.
“Definitely.” Raspberries are my favorite.
“Any thoughts on what you’re doing after food?”
“Why? You’re not planning on crashing the party, are you?” Horrible imagery unveils in my mind’s eye. “Or stalking us? I’m serious, Gun! I better not cross paths with you or Ed the whole night!”
He makes a face and I imagine him laughing at me internally. “Ed and I have plans. Mr. B is taking a bunch of us bowling. Trust me, we won’t be anywhere near your date.” He rolls his chair closer over to the bed until he’s right in my face. “Doesn’t mean I don’t still want access to the itinerary though.”
My brow furrows skeptically. “Why?”
“It’s a guy thing.”
“Bullshit. It’s a Gun thing. You’re being all controlling and overprotective, and this time, you have no reason to.”
“I always have reason to.”
I scoff. “How do you figure?”
“You’re the most important thing in the world to me, Coop. Twist and turn shit all you like, but when it comes down to it, you’re not any less protective of me than I am of you. We’re all the other has. And we both know it.”
His words pierce my heart and I turn my head quickly so he won’t see. I don’t even know why. He didn’t say anything mean, or even untrue. We have been all the other has ever had. We depend on each other. Need each other. I close my eyes. New thoughts are floating to the surface of my mind. Or maybe they’re old thoughts I’ve kept shoved away for a reason. Either way, I don’t want to see them. Don’t want to focus on them long enough to hear the words spelled out. There’s a painful difference between need and want. And for the first time in eight years I can feel it.
“It’s not always going to be that way,” I huff, spending an excessive amount of time fluffing my pillow before I ball it up again and press it to my core.
“You and me?” He seems surprised. “Yeah, it is.”
“No, it’s not.” I punch the pillow in my lap. “Someday, maybe sooner than you think, you’re not going to be all I’ve got. Someone else may actually want to be with me.”
He sits up straighter, taken aback. His face is blank but his eyes are studying me. “As soon as Friday night, huh? What are you saying, Reed McAllister is the one?”
I know he’s mocking me. I don’t care. Joke’s on him this time. “Yeah. I think he might be.”
He stares at me for a small eternity before he presses his lips together into a thin, forced smile and nods. “Good. You deserve it.”
I do. “Thanks. I really appreciate you supporting this. I know it’ll be weird, letting someone new in, but I promise you’ll like him if you just give him a chance.”
His expression softens and I get a glimpse of the guy only I ever get to see. Sweet Gun. “As long as he keeps making you smile that dopey ass smile you’ve had all week, I’ll like him just fine.”
I can feel myself blush as I bite back the grin fighting its way to the forefront. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never do dopey ass anything.”
He laughs. “Sure, you don’t.” He spins in the chair, turning his back on me. “Now then, how about we do some homework so you don’t get grounded before Friday night.”
“Grounded? You’ve met Mags, right?”
But he can’t be swayed. Books are coming out. Pens are being tossed in my direction. We’re doing homework. Together. For the same class. Like it’s normal. Only this won’t ever not be weird.
CHAPTER NINE
Three weeks it’s been since our first date. Three weeks and countless amazing kisses later and I’m still struggling to believe my luck. Reed McAllister. My very own Prince Charming. Now all I need to do is learn to summon blue birds from my bedroom window and I’m but a hop, skip and a royal ball away from finding my fairy tale happily ever after. I could live with that.
I can even live with his crazy sister. Kerri. Even from the kitchen where we’re sitting, working on a group project, I can hear her tires squeal in their driveway, announcing her arrival back home. I heard stories about her at school, but they were nothing compared to the real deal.
Reed doesn’t acknowledge her homecoming, nor the impending doom which always seems to follow wherever Kerri goes. His commitment to denial is short lived however. Before we know it, she bursts through the door, leans over his chair and stares him straight in the eyes.
"Can you get herpes from a carnival ride? Asking for a friend."
He scowls. “I don’t need to know about your slutty friends and their genital issues, Kerri.”
She shrugs and turns her attention to me, clearly still seeking an answer, which I’m pretty sure I don’t have.
“I think ‘your friend’,” and I use the air quotation marks, just in case she’s not aware I know what that’s code for, “probably needs a doctor.”
“Come on, you must know something,” she insists.
I put down my pen and give up on writing for the moment. “Why must I?”
“You know, growing up in the system...running away all the time...living on the streets with that guy...you’ve definitely been around enough to know where you can and cannot pick up a little...skin irritation.”
The big textbook Reed was flipping through a second ago lands on the kitchen table with a loud thud. “You did not just say that to my girlfriend.”
Her eyes widen. “Girlfriend? Really? I didn’t realize it was so serious already.” She leans toward him again and whispers, as if I won’t be able to hear, “Do Mom and Dad know?”
I’m going to say no. Though they’ve been told. They’re simply moving forward with denial. Not that I’m surprised. I’m not what you
might call a great catch around the country club.
Reed’s face turns noticeably darker. “Kerri,” he growls, but she’s hardly bothered. In fact, it seems it’s my turn again.
“Come on, Copper. Don’t hold out on me. Should my friend be worried?”
“It’s Cooper.”
She looks confused. “What did I say?”
“Copper. Like, the metal. My name is Coooo-per.”
“Fine, Cooper. Whatever.” She dismisses my corrections with a flick of her wrist, then returns to her previous eyes-boring-into-my-skull stare.
“Not that my experience with skin irritations is nearly as extensive as you think, but I’m going to say that unless your friend was having sex on said carnival ride, it’s not likely she got a sexually transmitted disease from being on one.”
Shockingly, this basic use of common sense answer seems to appease her.
“Okay, good. That’s what I thought.” Her face tightens. Apparently, my response didn’t rule out whether or not she got herpes as much as it helped narrow down the source of it. “I need to go make a call.” Then she spins on her heel and disappears as fast as she stormed in here a few minutes ago.
“Sorry,” Reed grumbles, reaching for my hand and massaging my palm with his thumb. I love when he does that. “There are days I wish I could slap a mute button on her.”
“Or a pause button,” I suggest, jokingly. “Then you could just freeze her anytime she’s about to do something stupid. Like get herpes on a merry go round.”
He cracks a smile. And just like that, all’s right with the world again. “How do you do that?” he asks, still stroking my palm with tender care.
“What?”
“Find the humor. She was totally rude and obnoxious, and you just let it all roll right off your back.” There’s a hint of admiration in his tone I’m not accustomed to hearing. From anyone. Ever.
My shoulders slack and I relax in my chair, sort of awestruck by how someone like him could find someone like me even remotely impressive. “Trust me, Kerri and her slightly insulting insinuations were harmless compared to some of the stuff I’ve heard from people over the years.” Even if every foster home I’d been in had turned out to be a warm and fuzzy place, starting a new school with new kids every couple of months certainly gave me plenty of asshat exposure.
He watches me, concern growing in his beautiful blue eyes. “Did you really? Live on the streets...with that Gunnar?”
My head tilts sideways as I contemplate what he’s asking me. We don’t talk much about my past. It makes him uncomfortable, I can tell. I’ve convinced myself it’s because he cares so much about me, he can’t bear the thought of my suffering in any way, but now, the way he just said Gun’s name, I’m not so sure that’s really the reason.
“Yeah.” I smirk. “He never gave me herpes though.” As soon as I see his expression I know the joke was timed badly. “I’m kidding. I mean, not about not having herpes. About it even being possible.” I’m rambling. This is so bad. “Gun and I are just friends, I swear. That’s all we’ve ever been. And not the kind who give each other STDs at the carnival. Clothed friends. Non-touching friends.” Well, now I’m lying, but for the sake of my point, I don’t think I need to get technical about the way we do and do not touch. “I wish you two would just get over this weird guy thing you have and get to know each other.”
The mere suggestion they could possibly be friendly, not friends – just friendly, seems to make him agitated. “I don’t know, Coop. I think maybe it’s best if your past thing with Gunnar just stays in the past.”
I can feel my face scrunch up and do my best not to imagine what it must look like. “My past thing? It’s not a thing, Reed. He’s my best friend. That’s never going to change.”
Reed starts to shift around in his seat, growing increasingly uneasy as this conversation progresses. “Look, I know you have a different perspective because you two started out in the system together and that probably bonded you guys in some way, but...from the outside looking in, that dude is bad news. Whatever he was like when you guys met as kids, he’s different now.”
“And how exactly would you know that? How would you know anything about him at all?”
His shoulders droop and I almost feel bad for him. “Cooper, please don’t be mad. I’m just trying to look out for you. The last thing I want is for you to end up in jail because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time...with the wrong person.” He tries to twine his fingers into mine. “Just trust me on this, okay?”
I yank my hand out of his embrace and drop it into my lap and out of his reach entirely. Then, I’m on my feet, stuffing my books and folders into my backpack without giving any thought to care or fit. They just have to go in so I can get out.
“You want trust, Reed? Trust me,” I say, zipping up my bag and preparing to complete my dramatic exit. “Whatever you think you know about him, whatever you’ve heard, should mean nothing to you when I’m sitting here telling you Gun’s a good person. I’m the one who knows him. I’m the one who has been there with him at all the wrong times, in all the wrong places and I’ve got some bad news for you, we were usually there because of me. Not him. So, if you want to avoid dealing with the messy past of a kid who’s been arrested, who’s run away and who will likely screw up a million times more before they figure out how to play the shitty hand they’ve been dealt in life and win, well, then Gun’s not the one you’re looking to get rid of. I am.”
I huff loudly, turning to storm from the room, but his hand flies out to catch my wrist and stop me. Suddenly he’s standing as well, bringing me to him, holding me close. All the anger screaming inside me is calmed in an instant, being soothed by his strength and realizing his instinct is to hold me tight when mine is to bolt.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs softly, his lips touching my ear through strands of my hair. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just...worry about you. I know you’ve had it rough, but I want to change that. I want a better life for you. For both of us.” His fingertips trail gently up the side of my neck until his thumb hooks under my chin, pulling it upward where our eyes meet. “I love you, Cooper. The last thing on earth I ever want to do is get rid of you. I want to keep you. Forever.”
My knees just turned to Jell-O. All my life I’ve imagined hearing those words from someone and never once did it come close to sounding as beautiful as it just did coming from Reed’s lips.
“Good,” I whisper, trying not to choke on my excruciatingly dry throat, “because I love you, too.”
He smiles. But I don’t see it as much as I can feel it as his mouth comes down on mine, connecting us, sealing our words into reality with a perfect kiss.
CHAPTER TEN
“What’s wrong?” Reed squeezes my shoulder. He’s got his arm draped around me, so this small gesture goes a long way and results in a comforting Reed-wrap-around-hug. I love those. I especially love how non-stingy he is with them. With affection in general. He never hesitates to hold my hand or pull me close. Or kiss me. God, that boy can kiss.
I inhale all that yummy Reed scent before I answer. It’s like I get high off just one whiff of him. Butterflies start doing somersaults in the pit of my stomach, my heart feels light and my face, it does this involuntary smile thing I’m almost used to now. Life gets better every time I breathe in when he’s around. Doesn’t seem to matter how many weeks or months go by, his scent continues to have the same magical effect on me.
“Nothing now.” I sigh, smiling into the soft cotton of his shirt.
“You had that look on your face,” he nudges, “You were thinking about something you didn’t like. What was it?”
Slowly I untangle myself from his embrace enough to face him while we talk. I like that he pays attention, that he notices the little things. I just don’t like talking about them. “Mr. B got Gun a job for the summer. Well, more than a job really, it’s an apprenticeship. He’s learning roofing.” I’m sure that sounds less than impressive t
o Reed who’s been accepted to Yale to follow in his father’s footsteps, but it’s huge for Gun. For kids like us, turning eighteen usually means you’re out on your ass with no money, no real skills and no family. Mr. B changed the game for Gun. Changed his life.
“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing, Cooper.” He smiles at me, waiting for me to get to the part I’m not so keen on.
“It’s a great thing, actually. Except it’s in Georgia. So, right after graduation, he’s taking off for nine weeks.” I avert my eyes. “It’s the longest we’ve been apart in years.”
“You’re going to miss him,” he says quietly. I know he doesn’t like how close Gun and I are, but he’s been doing his best to accept it and keep the snide commentary to a minimum. Meanwhile, I’ve given up any notions they’ll ever be close. Ever. I don’t know how it’ll play out in terms of the rest of our lives, but I’m not ready to face the possibility of giving up any aspect of either relationship, so I just block it out entirely. Until now, when it’s staring me square in the face. Gun is disappearing. I know he says it’s just for nine weeks, but ever since he told me, I can’t shake this icky feeling in the pit of my stomach that it’s more than that. Things are changing. He’s pulling away. And I don’t know how to stop him without being a selfish ass.
“It’s not just that,” I finally answer, “I’m scared of losing my family. My roots. He’s the first place I’ve ever belonged, Reed. And I know that’s hard for you to hear, but I can’t help it. It’s true. We were both just thrashing in the current when we met, and coming together was the first time either of us ever felt anchored to anything. You don’t understand, your parents have always been that for you. If you lost them, if you didn’t have the security of a home, your safe place to come back to, life would be a little scary. Trust me.”