Daring Hearts: Fearless Fourteen Boxed Set

by Box Set

  For money,

  And she’s no happier than she was before.

  * * *

  Something different didn’t help, and

  I wonder when she’ll leave

  The Youngbloods

  In search of what she’s looking for,

  But still can’t find.

  27

  “WELL?”

  She places one hand on her narrow hip, and

  Skates her eyes down the length of my body.

  “You cannot simply leave this house

  Without telling anyone where you’re going, and

  When you’ll be back.”

  * * *

  “I told someone where I was going, and

  When I’d be back.

  It just wasn’t you.”

  * * *

  “Olivia!”

  She throws her hands into the air.

  “Texting your father does not count.

  It’s my weekend.”

  * * *

  Something unfolds inside my body,

  A monster,

  An animal, and

  Claws through my stomach, and

  Up my throat.

  * * *

  “When you left us a year ago,

  You gave up the privilege of knowing

  Anything about me.”

  * * *

  Anger blazes in Mom’s expression, and

  I can tell she’s fighting her own monster.

  “I just want to know you’re safe.”

  * * *

  “I was fine.

  I am fine.”

  * * *

  “Where were you?

  Who were you with?”

  * * *

  I squint at her,

  Hoping to see her more clearly.

  I can’t.

  She is so far removed from me,

  It’s as if a continent separates us.

  * * *

  “Olivia.”

  Her voice carries only warning,

  Not compassion,

  Not worry,

  Not concern.

  * * *

  “I was with Harris!” I yell,

  Not caring that it’s two o’clock in the morning.

  This house is huge, and

  The people here probably sleep

  With those machines that simulate the sound of the ocean.

  * * *

  “We drove around a little,

  Went to a movie, and

  Then had hot sex in the back of his car!”

  My chest heaves,

  The monster inside is desperate to come out and

  Scratch my mother’s vocal chords from her throat.

  “Is that what you wanted to know, Mom?”

  * * *

  She stumbles back a step,

  One hand clutching her heart.

  “You didn’t.

  Tell me you’re lying.”

  * * *

  “Why do you care?” I ask.

  I take my raging emotions, and

  Tighten them back into the box

  I’ve so carefully used for the past year.

  “At least I’m not married to someone else but

  Sleeping with him.”

  * * *

  I don’t wait for her response, because

  I think I may have just stepped over an invisible line, and

  I’m scared at how satisfied I feel.

  28

  “IS THAT REALLY TRUE?”

  Trevor’s voice pierces the darkness

  Outside the bedroom I share with Rose.

  * * *

  Upstairs, quiet reigns.

  Rose left our door open, but

  I didn’t wake her with my tantrum.

  * * *

  “You sleeping with Harris.

  Is that really true?”

  * * *

  I can see his silhouette

  Against the moonlight spilling through his room.

  The monster flees, but

  I keep my feelings from showing on my face.

  * * *

  “I mean, you’ve been dating him for

  Eight months, but…”

  Trevor lets his words die in the night, and

  I have nothing to add.

  * * *

  I’m trying to figure out why Trevor

  Knows how long I’ve been dating Harris.

  I barely know that.

  * * *

  “Please,” Trevor begs, and

  I hear the compassion, and

  Concern, and

  Worry

  In his voice.

  Everything I wanted to hear in Mom’s.

  “I have to know if you’re sleeping with him.”

  * * *

  “No, I’m not.”

  The truth leaks from me, and

  I’m not sure why.

  * * *

  Truth is a dangerous thing.

  It can free a person, and

  When spoken plainly

  Can build trust.

  * * *

  When hidden, the truth

  Can destroy relationships,

  Families,

  Lives.

  * * *

  “I didn’t think so,” he says,

  Relief plain in his tone.

  * * *

  “What does that mean?” I demand.

  The animal inside me thrashes again.

  “You think the artsy, photographer girl

  Can’t arouse the soccer star?”

  * * *

  “No, it means I don’t have to beat him up.”

  * * *

  “Why do you care?” I’m thrilled in a weird way at the thought of

  Trevor punching Harris

  For sleeping with me, but

  Mostly confused that Trevor cares.

  “We’re not friends.

  You and I aren’t…together.”

  * * *

  He takes a step toward me, and

  I see that it’s tentative,

  Giving me a chance to escape if I want to.

  * * *

  I hold my ground,

  Neither ready to run

  Nor committed to staying.

  * * *

  “We used to be friends,” he says.

  “And we used to be together, and

  I miss you.”

  He threads his fingers through mine, and

  The feelings I have now aren’t

  In the same realm as anger,

  Or frustration,

  Or fear.

  * * *

  His hand in mine

  Feels warm and safe,

  Completely unlike the frantic desperation

  That courses through me when I’m with Harris.

  * * *

  He tugs me toward his room, and

  I seize,

  Thinking of Rose alone in our bedroom, and

  My mom’s watchful eyes, and

  Harris’s willingness to wipe my mind clean

  Through his kisses.

  * * *

  “I’M NOT SLEEPING WITH YOU EITHER,”

  I say,

  Every muscle in my body locked.

  I am not following Trevor into his bedroom.

  * * *

  His chuckle is low,

  Sexy.

  It causes warmth to slide through my body, and

  Reminds me of when we used to lay

  Next to the lake,

  Fingers tangled,

  Eyes on the clouds,

  Laughing, and

  Talking, and

  Kissing.

  * * *

  I remember the way he used to look at me,

  With desire,

  Not so unlike Harris.

  * * *

  I remember how his mouth felt against mine,

  Soft yet insistent,

  Completely unlike Harris,

  Who kisses me with too much tension and

  Too many clashes of teeth.


  * * *

  “I don’t want to sleep with you,” Trevor says,

  His feet still shuffling in the direction of his room.

  “I mean, I do, but not tonight.”

  * * *

  “Not ever,” I say,

  “Because we’re not together.

  I have a boyfriend, and

  He’s not you.”

  I keep my feet glued to the carpet.

  * * *

  “You and Harris won’t last forever.”

  The gentle hiss of Trevor’s voice

  Sends a tremor racing underneath my skin.

  * * *

  “You don’t know that,” I hiss back,

  Mine much more menacing.

  * * *

  “Oh, but I do, Wings.”

  He tugs on my hand again, and

  I yank my fingers out of his.

  * * *

  “Come on,” he pleads,

  “We’re not going to my room.

  How about the terrace?”

  * * *

  All I can ask is,

  “This place has a terrace?”

  29

  “I LOVE THE STARS.”

  Trevor sits beside me,

  Having released his grip as soon as we stepped onto the terrace.

  He hasn’t spoken in ten minutes, and

  I’d just started to daydream.

  * * *

  “Mmm,” is all I can muster.

  I don’t even bother to open my eyes

  To see the magnificence of the stars.

  * * *

  Minutes pass, but

  His simple statement has pulled me from the edge of sleep.

  “What were you and Jacey talking about?” I ask.

  * * *

  “Jacey?”

  * * *

  “Yeah, yesterday morning,

  Before first period.

  I saw you guys arguing.”

  * * *

  My eyes open bleary but

  Quickly focus on his moonlit face.

  I have not allowed myself to look at him so openly

  Since our parents got married,

  Not even through the lens of my camera.

  * * *

  I think of what images I could capture here,

  Now,

  On his terrace with his face highlighted by the moon.

  * * *

  His jaw is pronounced and smooth;

  His eyes wide and bright.

  * * *

  He doesn’t notice me looking,

  At least for the first few seconds.

  When he notices,

  He lets me look, and

  Search, and

  Examine.

  * * *

  Through the shadows around his face,

  I can see all the way to the bottom of him.

  I don’t know what I expect to find, but

  It’s not helplessness, or

  Vulnerability.

  * * *

  My fingers itch to use a manual flash,

  Adjust my shutter speed,

  Set the aperature, and

  Solidify who he is.

  * * *

  “Jacey told me I had no chance with you,”

  Trevor says,

  Finally tearing his eyes away from my scrutiny.

  “I disagreed.”

  30

  JACEY’S RIGHT

  Sits on the tip of my tongue,

  Unspoken, untasted.

  No matter how much I want to be with him, and

  No matter how sincere his words sound,

  Jacey’s right.

  * * *

  I want to believe he misses me,

  That he would be with me if things were different.

  But I can’t, because those thoughts hold too much hope, and

  Hope is a painful thing.

  * * *

  He leans forward,

  Hands on knees,

  Eyes on stars.

  * * *

  He turns toward me

  As if in slow motion.

  Trevor’s hand comes closer, and

  Closer, and

  Closer.

  * * *

  I don’t move mine,

  Though my brain is screaming at me.

  His fingers land warm and soft on mine,

  Much the way I imagine falling in love to feel.

  * * *

  I swallow.

  Blink.

  Look into the depths of his eyes, and

  Breathe in the fresh linen scent of his shirt, and

  Turn my face to the stars he loves.

  31

  “THEY’RE LEAVING,”

  I whisper into my cell phone to Jacey on the other end of the line

  As I watch my step-father’s Escalade

  Back out of the driveway and

  Turn toward the city.

  * * *

  From my second-story window

  I see Trevor’s profile in the backseat with Rose,

  Who loves him as though he were her real brother

  Even though they don’t spend much time together.

  * * *

  They’ll be gone until at least mid-afternoon,

  What with the drive,

  The brunching, and

  The shopping.

  * * *

  “I’ll be right there,” Jacey says,

  “I’m just down the block.”

  * * *

  When I see her beat-up Toyota round the corner,

  I grab my purse and fly down the stairs,

  Past the undusted chandelier and

  The dishwasher that clicks on the heavy duty cycle.

  * * *

  I have to pull hard on the double-front doors, and

  A flash of hatred slices through my body,

  A reminder that I want to do this.

  * * *

  Jacey asks anyway.

  “You sure about this?”

  She retraces the path of the Escalade

  Though we aren’t going nearly as far.

  * * *

  “I held hands with Trevor Youngblood,” I tell her,

  “He said he wants to sleep with me.

  He told me you said he had no chance.”

  * * *

  “You held his hand?”

  Jacey doesn’t answer for a minute,

  Only chews her bottom lip.

  “I didn’t think he had a chance…”

  * * *

  I swear the heat from his fingers still seeps between mine,

  Like the remembered warmth of a campfire.

  “It was a sort-of hand-hold,” I say.

  “He took my hand and led me to this terrace

  I didn’t even know existed.

  We looked at stars, and

  He said he missed me.”

  * * *

  Jacey tosses me a worried look.

  “Did he say anything else?

  Try anything?”

  * * *

  I shake my head,

  Somehow feeling even more guilty for the hand-holding

  Now that someone else knows.

  Still, it felt good to talk it out,

  The way I should’ve been able to do with

  Mom.

  * * *

  “Well, then, how did the sleeping-with-you thing come up?”

  Jacey turns into the tattoo parlor parking lot,

  Parks, and

  Kills the engine.

  * * *

  I close my eyes as if that will drown out the hateful things

  I said to my mother.

  “I sort of told my mom I was sleeping with Harris, and

  Trevor overheard—you know he’s not even supposed to be there on my weekends?—and

  He asked me about it.”

  * * *

  Since Jacey isn’t driving, she turns toward me,

  Her brown eyes wide and curious.

  “And? Are you?”

&n
bsp; * * *

  I shake my head again.

  “You know I’m not into Harris like that.”

  * * *

  “You sure kiss him a lot for someone who’s not into him like that.”

  * * *

  “Kissing is different,” I say,

  “It’s harmless. Everyone kisses. It’s no big deal.”

  * * *

  Jacey cocks her head to the side as if to say,

  Yeah, right.

  * * *

  “It’s true,” I insist. “The value of a kiss has significantly decreased.

  Just watch The Bachelor.”

  * * *

  I remember a time when I believed a kiss meant something.