Live Through This

by Mindi Scott

  “Hello Kitty isn’t staring at me, so that’s a huge plus. But now I can’t see my girlfriend very well.”

  I pull him to the bed and we sit together, with our fingers interlaced. An unexpected zing of energy shoots through me. “You don’t need to see me because I am. Exactly. Right.” I lean in and taste his beer and cinnamon mouth. “Here.”

  “Oh,” he whispers. “There you are.”

  I run my fingers through his hair and he cups my face in his hands. He brings his lips back to mine again and again. There’s so much intensity in his kisses that my heart goes crazy. I want to be—need to be—even closer to him. I lie down and pull him onto me.

  “I love the way your hair smells,” he says, propping himself up on his elbows and looking into my eyes. “It’s all summery like dandelions.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “Dandelions?”

  “Or, I don’t know. Daisies. Sunflowers?”

  I laugh. “Those are the stinkiest flowers in the world!”

  “Not to me, they aren’t.” He buries his face in my hair, inhales deeply, and lets out a sigh that is somehow both silly and sexy at the same time. “Have I ever told you that you’re amazing,” he says, “and I am so lucky?”

  “I don’t think I know that song.”

  “Not a song this time. I’m so creative that I came up with it all on my own.”

  I giggle as he kisses me all over my face.

  Our chests rise and fall together. His mouth meets mine and my eyes fall shut and we kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss until we’re both out of breath. Then we slow down and he grazes his lips against my ear, my neck, my collarbone. His hands brush across my face, run through my hair. He traces his fingers up and down my sides, slides them under my shirt. Every part of him is pressing against every part of me. My body goes limp. His hands unclasp my bra, massage my breasts. His lips press against my lips. My heart gallops. I hate that I don’t hate this. His tongue probes my mouth, touches my tongue. I don’t kiss him back. I don’t want him to realize that I’m awake, that I have any idea what he’s doing to me. . . .

  “Coley?”

  The voice is . . . not right.

  I open my eyes and someone’s face is close to mine. I slap him. “Get off! Let me go!”

  Scrambling away, I fall onto the carpet and fight to catch my breath. The light flips on. I blink.

  I’m on my hands and knees. Next to the canopy bed in Vicki and Brody’s little sister’s room.

  Reece kneels on the floor beside me, his eyes open wide with shock. “Coley, what’s wrong? What did I do? Tell me what I did!”

  I can’t believe I freaked out like that. I can’t believe I hit Reece.

  He blurts out, “I wasn’t trying to—I promise. I mean. I thought. I thought that . . .” He tries to touch my arm, but I lean away and cover my face.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “I am so sorry.”

  • • •

  I’ve been curled up on the floor for a thousand years and Reece has been asking me the same questions and making the same apologies over and over. My panic is fading, but my embarrassment, shame, and rage are ramping up higher and higher.

  This is because of Bryan. Because of how completely messed up we are. He wasn’t even here and yet, he was. A normal girl would be able to make out with her boyfriend without freezing up, without losing it, without thinking about her brother.

  Why can’t I be normal?

  “I didn’t mean to scare you,” Reece says. “I swear. I thought you were into it and—”

  “I was,” I interrupt. “You didn’t do anything that I didn’t want you to do.”

  He stares at me, clearly not understanding. How could he, though? How could anyone?

  Reece rakes his hands over his hair and looks away. “Right at the end. I was kissing you. But it was like, you weren’t there anymore.”

  My chest tightens. He noticed. He could feel the difference in me.

  “Look.” I fumble with my bra under my shirt. “I’m going outside to get some air. Clear my head.”

  As I stand, Reece does the same. “Can I come with you?”

  “I really need to be alone right now,” I say, moving for the door.

  “Coley, wait.”

  His voice is pleading and I stop with my hand poised on the handle.

  “The last thing I want is to screw things up with you,” he says. “Will you just talk to me? Tell me what I can do to fix it. Please.”

  I turn to face him. His pained expression brings tears to my eyes. “You can’t fix this. It isn’t even about you.”

  “What’s it about then?”

  We stand there in silence, watching each other. I can’t tell him the truth. I won’t. “Just forget it,” I say, breaking his gaze.

  “Forget what?”

  I shake my head, pull open the door, and run for the stairs.

  CHAPTER 25

  When I reach the bottom of the staircase, my arm bumps Eric, who sways into Daniel, who stumbles into Kendall. She then pushes Daniel against the banister. Garrison grabs my hand, preventing me from bolting outside. “Whoa there, Sterling!” he says at the same time that Daniel says, “Jeez, Eckman.”

  Hannah, Rachel B., Felicia, and Alejandra glance up from their huddle to stare at me.

  “Coley, what happened?” Alejandra asks.

  I don’t need to be questioned by her right now; her so-called help after halftime already caused me enough problems for one night. I yank my hand from Garrison’s, fling open the front door, and escape into the cold air.

  As I slam the door and step onto the stone walkway, I spot Noah leaning against one of the front pillars, talking and laughing with Brody. Noah stands up straight when he sees me and takes a few steps forward. “Hey. Um, I just got here. What’s up?”

  I’m nearly breathless as I say, “I need you to get me out of here.”

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  I hear the door open behind me and the roar of conversations and music from inside grow loud in an instant.

  “Noah, please!”

  “Okay.” He nods at Brody and we run hand in hand to his car. We rush to get in and he starts the engine and pulls away from the curb. “Someone’s waving like they want me to stop,” he says. “I think it’s Reece.”

  I glance over; he’s right. “Just go. Keep driving.”

  Buckling my seat belt, I squeeze my eyes shut, but it does nothing to rid my mind of Reece’s betrayed expression.

  From the motion of the car, I can feel that Noah’s taking the corners too quickly. “You want to tell me what’s going on?” he asks after about a minute.

  With my eyes still closed, I shake my head. If I talk, I’ll cry. If I cry, I’ll never stop. Tonight went so, so wrong and it’s all my fault.

  “Let’s try this again,” Noah says. “I’m the getaway driver, so you have to tell me.”

  I look down at my hands, folded onto my lap. The hands that ran through Reece’s hair and stroked his cheek. The hands that slapped him and pushed him off me.

  Noah pulls up in front of my house and parks the car. I fling my door open and jump out.

  “Coley, wait!”

  I run across the lawn and then stop suddenly. I can’t go in there. This is the last place I want to be.

  Noah catches up, puts his hands on my shoulders, and turns me around to face him. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Everything’s wrong! My whole life is falling apart!”

  “Why? What happened?”

  I shake my head again.

  “Hey, it can’t be as bad as you think. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out, okay?”

  I’m standing on the grass in front of my house. I’m with Noah. It’s dark and cold and my eyes are open. I know where I am. I know who I’m with.

  I lunge forward and kiss him—really kiss him.

  He doesn’t kiss me back, and as he pulls away, he leaves his hands on my shoulders and steps back again to get some spac
e between us. “Cole-leeeeeey. What are you doing?”

  I want the ground to open up and swallow me. I want a hurricane to carry me away and drop me into the middle of the ocean. I want to disappear forever and ever and ever so that I never again have to see this miserable look on Noah’s face.

  In a quiet voice, he says, “That isn’t how I feel about you. I thought you understood that.”

  “Of course I understand!” I shout, pushing his hands off of me. “I understand that you’ve spent your whole life trying to make people think you want to be with me when, really, you want someone like Brody!”

  Noah’s eyes widen and his mouth falls open. Without a word, he retreats to his car.

  I grab at my hair and scream in frustration.

  What am I doing, what am I doing, what am I doing?

  I run after him. “Noah, I’m sorry!”

  He keeps walking, his focus straight ahead.

  “I’m okay with it,” I say to his back. “I always have been. And I don’t like you in that way either. I promise.”

  Noah turns. “Then why did you do that?”

  “Because. I wanted to know who I was kissing for once in my life!”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  I look at the ground. “It means that I freaked out on Reece tonight. He was kissing me and then I was crying. The look on his face. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I did that.”

  “I don’t get it,” he says. “What are you saying? He was trying to . . . force you or something?”

  “No! I got confused. Like, I didn’t even know where I was. Or who I was with.”

  I meet Noah’s gaze. He doesn’t look shocked or angry anymore, just concerned.

  “You have to take me back,” I say. “I left my phone in Reece’s truck. I have to find him and talk to him.”

  “No, you have to go to bed.”

  I glance toward my house, back at his car, and then at my house again. “I can’t go in there. And I can’t leave things like that with him.”

  “You’re completely sloshed and you’re going to make things worse. Sleep it off. Figure out what you want to say to him.”

  My eyes fill with tears. “I know what I want to say. That I’m sorry. And that none of it was his fault. And that I don’t want to lose him. And I’m so scared that I already have.”

  “I’ll talk to him, okay? I’ll let him know that you’re sorry and you’ll talk to him tomorrow.” He takes my arm, carefully. “Now, let’s get you inside, drunk girl. You’ve had a crazy night.”

  I’m nowhere near as drunk as he seems to think I am, but I let him lead me up the steps anyway. When we reach the front door, Noah feels around until he locates our hidden key while I stare at the tops of our shoes. “I’m sorry,” I say, gesturing down to where we were standing before. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  “I know that. But, um. Was I really that obvious about”—he drops his voice to a near-whisper—“Brody?”

  “Total stab in the dark.”

  He lets out a loud breath. “All right. I’m going to go. I’ll talk to Reece for you. Promise me you won’t stay up all night watching horror movies?”

  I smile weakly. “I’ll try not to let you down.”

  CHAPTER 26

  The house is quiet as I creep into Bryan’s and my TV room downstairs, kick off my shoes, and turn on the television. According to the channel directory, The Sixth Sense is the only scary-type thing on right now. It isn’t technically horror, but it will do.

  I know that Noah meant the horror-movie thing as a joke. Because, obviously, I can’t handle my regular life, so adding in a scary movie would push me right over the edge. But I’m determined. I am going to watch this movie.

  I’ve caught it about twenty minutes in, so I don’t entirely know what’s happening. I pay close attention to the lighting, the makeup, the way the actors speak. But I find myself getting caught up in the music. My heart beats fast and I grip the blanket that’s spread across my lap. I turn the volume down, down, down. Is it still scary when I can’t hear anything, when I don’t know what they’re saying? When all I see are gray faces, hanging by ropes?

  Oh, yes. Yes, it is.

  “What are you doing here?”

  In the fraction of a second that it takes for my brain to register that Bryan has come into the room and is speaking to me, I’ve already tensed up and screamed.

  “Jesus!” In two strides, my brother is on the couch beside me, taking the remote, and switching off the TV. “What are you trying to do?” he asks.

  I burst into tears. I wanted to teach myself to not be afraid, to not need him for anything ever again. He’s here, ruining my plan, and all I feel is . . . relief.

  Bryan scoots close and puts his arm around me. I let him. I don’t want to, but I’m sobbing so hard now that the thing that makes the least amount of sense is somehow the only thing that makes sense. I need my big brother to make me feel better. Right now, he’s the only one who can.

  “You know you can’t watch those movies,” he says softly.

  “I know,” I say as my tears fall onto his arm.

  “Hey, don’t cry.” He brushes my cheeks and then pulls me up so that I’m sitting sideways across his lap. “Don’t be scared. I’m never going to let anything happen to you. You know that.”

  “I know,” I say again, wrapping my arms around his neck and crying onto his shoulder.

  I wish I could redo this whole day from the second I got up. I don’t care what Noah says, I should talk to Reece. He deserves so much better than this. He deserves so much better than me. I need to see him.

  But maybe he won’t want to see me.

  I cry until my head hurts, until I’ve used up all my energy, until I physically can’t cry anymore. As my sobbing subsides, Bryan hands me tissues from the end table and then shifts us both so that we’re lying across the couch on our sides, my back against his chest. I wipe my nose.

  “I thought you weren’t coming home tonight,” he says, stroking my hair.

  “I didn’t mean to.”

  He doesn’t ask me to explain. He tucks my hair behind my ear and runs his fingers up and down my arms. I close my eyes. I can’t get up, wash my face, brush my teeth, walk to my room, change my clothes. I can’t do anything except lie here against Bryan. Maybe if I fall asleep, he’ll carry me to bed.

  I imagine the voice of the instructor from my yoga video:

  Let your thoughts slip away.

  Breathe.

  Relax.

  Experience the continuous flow of breath from your center.

  Close out the rest of the world.

  Be at one with your inner self.

  I’m breathing, relaxing. Drifting, drifting, drifting, drifting, drifting . . .

  Fingers trace my ribs and startle me back to semi-consciousness. I pull my arm close against my side to try to block him from touching me there, but he slips his hand up and cups my breast in his hand.

  “Don’t,” I say.

  “Shhh,” he says by my ear. “It’s okay.”

  I awaken fully and wrench free from his arms, moving to the other side of the couch. “No, it isn’t.”

  He tries to get close to me again, but I put up both of my hands, and he stops and slumps back against the cushion. “C, what’s wrong?”

  “What do you think?”

  I need him to tell me that I imagined the whole thing, that he wasn’t feeling me up, that he’s never done anything like that and never, ever, ever could. I need for him to make me believe it.

  Instead, he crosses his arms over his chest and says, “I was trying to calm you down.”

  Oh, my God. We’re really having this conversation.

  I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Bryan, this. Us. It isn’t normal. We’re not normal. I’m your sister, not your girlfriend.”

  “Like I don’t know that.”

  “Well, it seems like—I mean, the things you do sometimes. I have a boyfriend and I don
’t want . . . this.”

  Bryan pushes himself to stand. “Why are you turning against me all of a sudden?”

  “I’m not.” I get to my feet and place my hand his arm. “You know that the last thing I would ever want is to hurt you.”

  He shakes me off, glaring. “How would I know that? You’ve been a complete bitch to me lately. You wouldn’t talk to me. You wouldn’t even look at me for days.”

  That’s the way he sees it? That this was all my doing?

  “Bryan, neither would you!”

  He closes his eyes for a long moment and then looks at me again. “Don’t you get how much I love you? How much I need you?”

  The anguish in his voice makes me feel like my chest has been kicked in, and now I’m crying again. “I love you, too. But I don’t want . . . that with you. And I don’t want to have to be scared for Emma all the time.”

  “Scared for Emma?”

  The look on his face seems to be complete puzzlement. I hope it means that I’m being paranoid, that he has never touched her and never will. But how can I know for sure? How can I ever know anything?

  He shakes his head, frowning. “Are you serious with this? I’ve been stuck dealing with all this school bullshit on my own, and now I try to make you feel better and you make it seem like—”

  “How would you grabbing my boobs make me feel better? It’s confusing and upsetting and—”

  “And you like it. No. You love it.” His voice cracks. “I know you do. I know how you want to be touched. I know everything that turns you on—”

  “Stop,” I say.

  “And because of me, you know what you’re into too. Like your boyfriend was going to figure it out on his own. That loser owes me a thank you.”

  “Shut up!” I yell.

  “You like to pretend that you’re so innocent, but I’ve been with other girls, and believe me, not one of them has ever come as fast for me as you do.”

  I slap his face with such force that I wonder for a moment if my shoulder’s bounced out of the socket. My hand stings and throbs, but I try to hit him again. This time, Bryan catches my arm mid-swing and holds on to it. “Coley, why are you doing this to me?”