Never The Same Love Twice

by Charity Rose

  Then, it’s true? He raped a girl?

  “Vee, go!” Keith yells, and that’s precisely what I do. I crash into Brad again as he was about to walk into the room and accidentally end up spilling his drink all over him. The brown cola mix soaks into his blue shirt, spreading like an ugly wound. His mouth opens in surprise,

  “Brad, I’m so sorry,” I gasp.

  “Vee, it’s alright,” he says wiping at his ruined shirt, “Is something wrong?” he asks, scanning my face.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” I don’t want to talk about any of this with him.

  I ran out of that room so fast I barely had time to process what was happening. I could hear yelling and cheering coming from behind me. The sound of flesh and bone hitting against each other. Could the fight still be going on? Out of impulse, I turn around. It was already over. It’s funny how in movies everything is in slow motion. You see every punch being thrown, every kick, ever dodge. But in reality, it happens so fast it’s over in the blink of an eye.

  I spot Michael. He’s already got a napkin shoved up his nose and a cut on his lip. Bruises are already forming across his temple and chin; his eyes are red. Where’s Keith? I look around the room. Michael catches my presence. His face contorts angrily, and he opens his mouth to say something, but I run away before he gets a chance to come after me.

  I’m at the last step of the staircase when I see some girl banging on the bathroom door. “Get the fuck out already, I’ve got to pee!” she says. Her voice is slurred. Definitely drunk. Maybe on drugs.

  “Who’s in there?” I ask the girl, pointing to the bathroom door.

  “I don’t know some guy, I think. He looked really messed up,” she said, coughs, and then turns and throws up over the side of the stair rail. I make a face; it smells awful, and the girl sits down on the top stair and moans. I hear movement from inside the bathroom. My instincts tell me its Keith. I knock on the door, “Keith is that you?” I ask.

  “Go away!” his voice resonates through the door.

  “Keith, can I come in? Please, Keith, unlock the door,” I plead. I hear the click of the lock turning. I push the door immediately. I step inside and there he is, sitting on the closed toilet seat, his head in his hands.

  “Keith,” I kneel in front of him, trying to remove his hands from his face, so I could see him. I grab hold of both of his wrists, and pull his arms down, revealing his bruised face. A cut on his temple is bleeding. Tears are still visibly running down his face. His knuckles are bruised and broken. Blows must have been exchanged, “Keith, please talk to me.”

  I unroll a wad of toilet paper and press it to the cut. Keith winces and opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Instead of saying anything, he reels me in for a hug. His head buried in the crook of my neck. I feel the moist tears rolling down his face, my camisole soaking them in. He pulls his head back,

  “What the fuck? Michael, he did this, didn’t he?” he growls. I look down and see what he’s talking about. Bruises are already spreading across my chest where Michael had touched me. I shake my head, “It’s okay. You already dealt with him,” I say gently. Keith stares at me, his eyes dark pools of the unknown.

  “Why is this happening again?” he says in between sobs.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I say, lifting his head up to meet my eyes. I press my thumbs to his face, wiping away some of his tears; his eyes trace over my face, flicking over my features like he’s trying to drink them in and remember them forever, “It’s going to be okay, really,” I reassure him again, each word coming out of my mouth slowly and with extra force behind them.

  “I’m sorry,” he starts tearing up again. “I lied to you, I lied. I should have told you the truth,” he’s sobbing, and I hate seeing him in this condition, I have to do something. He continues, “I should have told you the truth, the real truth—” You know how in movies when the girl doesn’t shut up, the guy always ends up kissing her to do so. This is one of those moments, only it’s when the girl kisses the guy.

  My lips press lightly against his. He’s stunned, but he doesn’t pull away. He leans into the kiss. And the kiss goes from being a sweet, gentle one to one of absolute desire. Leaving me breathless as his tongue slides into my mouth. That’s when I feel it, a spark that ignites into a flame. The heat is intense. We both pull back just for a second, staring at each other. I smile. He smiles back. Our mouths to crash together once again. I lift my body up from my crouched position, leaning against the door, and Keith practically leaps off the toilet. He presses his body against the length of mine, pushing my legs apart with one knee as we kiss again and again. His hands begin to trace my back, trail through my hair and up to my neck before traipsing their way back down to grip my hips as we grind our bodies together. We are thoroughly absorbed in each other when a knock on the door breaks us out of the reverie, “Ignore it,” I say against his lips. He smiles against mine and nods, “No problem,”

  Chapter 11

  That was hot and intense and super unexpected. Keith walks to the door; I’m left stunned for a moment. He’s close to opening it, but he hesitates. His hand is on the doorknob, eyes closed. He doesn’t unlock it. My mind rushes back to that text message Keith wrote to me about our first game of truth or dare; if I’d kissed you, I don’t think I could have stopped. We are both in deep now.

  Although he may have locked the door, he hasn’t moved away from it. Almost like he’s waiting for someone to try and open it from the other side. Or he’s waiting for me to resist.

  I take a step towards him, “Keith,” I say his name almost like a cry for help. He doesn’t move. Not even an inch. It’s like he doesn’t even notice that I’m there. That I am standing right behind him.

  I don’t know if I should hug him, or say something else, or do anything for that matter. Should I address what went on a few minutes ago? Should I talk about what just happened between us? I’m stuck.

  “Vidya,” there it is his voice as audible as a songbird. “I never should have dragged you into my life,” the words, as he says them, they feel like daggers puncturing my ears, “Everything is a mess, I’m a mess.”

  “Keith,” I press my hand lightly on his shoulder. “What happened?” I want to know everything, but I don’t want to rush him either. It has to come from his mouth, in his own time, on his own terms.

  “I assaulted a girl,” he says. I flinch at how bluntly he says it, but I can hear the strain in his voice. This is as hard for him as it is for me. I don’t say a word as he continues,

  “It was during my freshman year. I used to go to school up north in Abbey Hail.” I nod. I know of Abbey Hail, it’s a small city about two hours away from here. It’s a popular destination for summer break which is funny because all the students in Abbey Hail come down to swim at Millers Lake for their breaks.

  “I was at my first high school party with my older cousins and a few of my friends. I was drunk and high. We were having a good time, you know? Everything was all hazy; some asshole pushed me into this closet with a girl, who was out of her mind wasted. They insisted she wanted it. I didn’t know what I was doing, for me, I was up in the clouds, lost, with no way back. It’s a day that will continue haunting me for the rest of my life.”

  He paused, “After that, we had to move. Her parents brought us to court, but for whatever reason, the girl didn’t want to press charges. We were both the same age so they couldn’t get me for statutory. But everyone knew about it. There were pictures. The press ran the images in the newspaper. My family was humiliated. So we pulled up our roots and moved her, the sleepy little town of Millers Hollow. And now, it’s back to haunt me again. I just can’t get a fucking break,”

  As he’s telling his story, I can’t help but feel anger. This is totally fucked up? He was practically still a child, fifteen at most, and they forced Keith on some poor girl who was in no state to understand what was going on.

  “Keith,” I say about to change the subject. I don’t know what Keith heard betw
een Michael and me, but I’m guessing he heard it all if we went to such lengths to get him away from me. “What did you hear before—”

  “You mean, between that guy I found you with?”

  I answer, “Yes.”

  “I heard enough and saw enough to know that that guy deserved the beating I gave him,” he answers, “and before you say something, remember that he was planning to do way more than just... He’s a sick man.”

  There’s a loud banging on the door, followed by a guy’s voice, “C’mon bro. You’ve been in there like an hour. It’s a fucking bathroom!” We jolt back to life.

  “Let’s go,” I whisper to Keith. He nods, and we proceed to open the door. Only to find a load of people waiting in line, which means the other bathroom is taken as well.

  “I should have known,” I girl yells out from the line. “You know there are bedrooms in the house right,” she says to us. We ignore her and keep walking down the stairs. Until I remember Brad. I search for him between the frenzy of people all around, but I don’t see him anywhere. After all, that’s happened, I’m in no mood to party, and neither is Keith.

  Keith offers to give me a ride home, which I’m thankful for. I don’t think walking back home would have been safe. After the incident with Michael and that strange feeling of eyes on my back when I walked to the party. I just couldn’t do it. If it weren’t for Keith, I’d have ended up calling my parents. That would have been embarrassing.

  Keith opens the passenger door for me; I slide in quickly and wait for him to do the same. We don’t talk, and in less than three minutes, he’s parking right outside my house. I reach my hand out for the door handle slowly, waiting for Keith to stop me like before. But he doesn’t move a muscle. I open the door all the way and step out. “Vidya,” my name barely comes out as a whisper, but I still hear it.

  I stand there facing him, waiting for more words to leave his now parted lips. “This isn’t good,” he says. My eyebrows arch. I have no idea what he’s talking about. He continues, “Earlier, you asked me what we were, and I didn’t have an answer to your question. Now I know. We are nothing, Vidya. We shouldn’t be together in any way, not even as friends.”

  I smile and start to laugh, “What? You’re joking, right?”

  “No,” he says and turns his head to me. His face is like a stone. Not a hint of any emotion behind his eyes.

  “Just go,” he says a little too forceful. I don’t move. I stand there, staring at him and bite on my lower lip. “Just go damn it! I don’t ever want to see you again,” he roars loud enough that it echoes down the street. I’m sure all my neighbours can hear everything, most likely, my parents as well. He beats the heel of his palm against the steering wheel, “I’m dropping out of school. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t even process the sight of you. You drive me insane. You make me sick, Vidya,” he growls. His eyes seem to look right through me. Like I’m not actually here, but still, those last words pierce me in all the critical places.

  He must be joking.

  After everything that happened tonight, he has got to be pulling a nasty joke.

  I feel the tears as they come unbidden and begin to fall down my face. I slam the car door shut, as hard as can, with an angry cry and watch as he drives away. I grab my keys, open the door, and run inside. I don’t even check if my parents are awake or if they heard our fight. I don’t feel like answering questions right now.

  I close and lock my bedroom door behind me. Peeling off the sweater and the camisole I gaze into my bedroom mirror and examine the bruises Michaels’ hand left on my breast. It’s tender and sore to the touch. I wince as I change into a soft shelf-bra and pull on my pyjamas along with a comfortable sweater to cover the bruises. I did not want to have to come up with a lame excuse as to why I had all those bruises. I settle on my bed and dab at the tears that won’t seem to stop flowing and consider grabbing my book to read, but, for the first time ever, I don’t feel like reading.

  What the hell just happened?

  I want to text Brad, see if he’s okay and apologise for disappearing on him, but it’s getting late. I’ll just talk to him tomorrow. As for Keith, we both had a rough night. He probably just needs some time to think things over. After all the things he told me he’s probably scared.

  And never in my life did I think that I’d see Michael ever again, but there he was. Rolling over on my bed, I cry until I finally fall into a fitful sleep.

  The early morning sunlight hits my face. I want nothing more than to go back to sleep for the entire day, or even the whole week. Maybe a month. I want nothing more than to wallow in bed forever. But I’ve got homework to finish up and school’s tomorrow.

  My eyes are sore and puffy from crying and looking down, I can see the ugly green and blue bruises where Michael hurt me. I hadn’t really processed everything just yet. The shock of it, and I mean all of it; Keith’s admission, Brads confession, and Michaels’ unwanted advances. But now everything comes flooding in. I push the horrible thoughts away, and instead, I let my mind drift off to that moment between Keith and I. His lips against mine, the way his fingers dug into my hips, the intense feeling of being close to him. His sound his smell his touch. It was more than I ever thought possible. I push my fingers into my cheeks and hold back a squeal of excitement. And then my mind went to his sudden and abrupt coldness last night. The evil thoughts come swarming back, stinging me like angry hornets.

  It’s like he flipped a switch. That’s my only way to describe it. Keith has been hard to get from the beginning. But last night I saw an entirely new side of him. I know it’s because of what happened in the past. I know he didn’t actually mean those horrible things he said to me. He was feeling vulnerable and hurting. He can’t possibly mean what he said about dropping out of school.

  Monday morning is like a slap to the face. However, I still manage to be dressed and ready by 6:45am. I take a seat at the dining table with a mini-box of cereal in my hands. I pop it open and start to shovel the cereal in my mouth with a hand.

  After I’d made my way downstairs yesterday, mom and dad had bombarded me with questions about the party. Mom wouldn’t let it go, she had to know what happened and kept waggling her eyebrows at me, and making kissy faces along with comments about Brad and Keith. So evidently, I made up a bunch of stuff about dancing and pizza, and party games. Innocent competitions on the Xbox. Under no circumstances would I reveal what had actually happened. And even though today is a bit warm again, I wore a bulky sweater over a long sleeves tee. I didn’t want to risk them seeing the bruises and thinking the worse. I mean, it was almost worse, but it wasn’t so there’s no reason to worry them.

  I finish my cereal in less time than usual, say good-bye to my dad, and wait for my mom inside the car. Deep down, I know I shouldn’t do this, Keith needs more time to cool down, but I desperately need to see if he was serious. I take my phone out of my backpack and quickly message Keith.

  Vee: Are you coming to school?

  Out of everything I could have thought of, really? No ‘Hello, how are you doing’, or a ‘good mornings or ‘are you alright?’. No, a flat out, are you coming to school? I must sound completely vapid.

  After mom drops me off, I wait in the library. It’s fifteen minutes till the first bell rings, and I check my phone for what feels like the millionth time. No response. He hasn’t even checked his phone, it shows the message as unseen. Only ten minutes before the bell rings, still nothing.

  Five minutes till the bell rings, and I’m getting antsy.

  I take a deep breath, and I call him.

  The phone starts ringing, and I’m almost sure he won’t answer until I hear an almost inaudible, “What?”

  “Keith, are you coming to school today?” I ask the exact same thing as the message I sent him almost an hour ago.

  “No,” he says stern. “I’m dropping out remember?” he says, sarcasm laces his voice.

  “I don’t believe that,” the words jump. Mainly because it is t
rue, I don’t believe that he’d drop out of school, just like that.

  “Well believe it because I am,” he says last before hanging up. Leaving me stunned and yet still doubtful.

  As I make my way to class, I stumble upon, Brad. “Hey,” he says. “Where’d you go on Saturday night?”

  “Sorry. I left early. It just wasn’t my scene,” I lie.

  “Oh, ok. Do you want to hang out during lunch?” he asks shyly. I don’t want Brad to get the wrong idea, but we’re getting along, so I agree to meet him for lunch.

  I put my all into my classwork today, raising my hand and spouting off answers like I was on a TV game show and was running for all the money. It keeps my mind off of Keith. But before I meet Brad for lunch, I need to find Ashton. I’ve got more than a few questions for him. As soon as the bell rings my bag is in hand, and I dash out of the class before anyone has a chance to talk to me; I’ve been so caught up in Brad and Keith that I’ve grown a bit distant from Angela lately. And when I see her in the hall, looking like she is waiting for me, I press my back between a row of lockers and wait for her to drift by. I don’t exactly mean to avoid her. I’m just not in the mood to have to explain myself to anybody, especially if they heard about the party. I mean we did walk out of a bathroom together, and all though we didn’t actually have sex people talk. And they theorize. And the next thing you know your living in some over dramatized sitcom. So right now, the only person I need to talk to is Keith. Which means I need to find Ashton. If anyone might know what’s going on with Keith, I would hope it was him since they seemed to be such good friends. Fingers crossed he came to school today.

  Guys like Ashton usually hang out at the end of the cafeteria, hustling each other in their little group. So, I try there first. I look at the line, scanning for his face, I don’t see him in the queue. I look at the students already eating at their tables, and no luck there either. As I turn my head to leave, I spot him with a bunch of the other guys I recognise from Saturday’s party as they are just entering the cafeteria.