by Charity Rose
I walk over to him without a clue of what to say, but he ends up beating me to it. “Hey, Vidya,”
“Hey Ashton, can I talk to you?” I look towards his entourage of people, “In private,” I add. He shrugs his shoulders, “Yeah sure, anything for Keith’s girl,” and waves his friends off before he walks with me slowly back out into the hall. Once we’re at safe talking distance away from the crowd. He speaks again. “So, what’s up?”
“How did you and Keith meet. Was it here?” I ask.
He eyes me curious an eyebrow quirked, “Most girls want to know his favourite colour or what kind of food he likes,” he replies but doesn’t give much thought to it and simply answers, “No, I knew him from middle school. He was a shy kid then. Didn’t talk so much, why you ask?”
“By any chance do you know where his house is?” I ask getting to the point.
His face breaks into a smile, and he nods like he knew I was going to ask that question next. I’m guessing he gets asked it a lot, “Yeah, I know. I’d be happy to give you his address. But only because he already vetted you, don’t go thinking I give his address out to just any girl,” he says as if he is trying to defend Keith. I smile.
“Great! Okay,” I hand him my phone so he can type in the address, he does and gives it back to me, “There you’re all set to go.”
“Thank you,” I say as he starts to head back to the cafeteria. He throws me thumbs up over his shoulder. I’m so grateful that the first part was easy. Now I got to go meet Bradley for lunch outside. We sat together and ate, joking around, but I was careful to make sure I wasn’t leading him on.
Back home after a long day, I’m exhausted but excited as well. When I looked up Keith’s’ address with my phone during lunch, I found he didn’t live all that far from me. It was maybe a twenty-minute walk, totally doable if the weather held out. The clouds were threatening rain, and it had gotten cold. Lunch with Brad wasn’t so bad. He talked with me about movies, the latest episodes of some of our favourite shows, it was so normal I almost forgot that we had ever been a thing at all just a week ago. We were two friends enjoying hanging out.
I change into some warm jeans and get my jacket out of the closet. The wind is blowing just hard enough to make you need more than a sweater. I tell my mom I’m going to head to the corner store at the end of the road, it’s a fifteen-minute walk so she won’t notice if it takes a bit longer for me to get home, and then I’m off down the street towards Keith’s house.
I’m nervous, more nervous than I’ve ever been. I pop my earbuds into my ears and listen to music while I walk, and before long I’m already there.
The house is small, smaller than I expected. With an unkempt lawn and sad looking flower bushes in desperate need of a trim. I guess his family isn’t big into gardening, my dad would never let our flowers suffer without a good trim. I walk up the short pathway and step up onto the patio. A wooden board creaks. I suck in a deep breath. Ok, Vee. We’re here so let’s just do this, no turning back now.
I press the doorbell and wait.
My stomach is in knots as second that feel like minutes tick by.
I hear footsteps walk up to the door.
My legs start to turn to jelly. I’m a nervous wreck. I hope it’s him at the door, but at the same time, I’m not because I have zero clue what I’m going to say to him. A few hours ago, I had a speech and everything planned. Now I’m breathless and wordless.
The door swings all the way open, and I’m greeted by a woman wearing an apron. She looks younger than I would expect, but the faint lines that trace her face tell me she is probably older than I think. She has blonde hair like Keith and the same striking blue eyes. I think this might be Keith’s mother.
I raise a hand and wave, “Hi,” I start nervously, “I’m Vidya Fletcher, a friend of Keith’s. H-he didn’t show up to school today, so I was worried.”
“Vidya, how lovely to finally meet you,” she says. My eyes grow wide. She knows about me, does that mean he’s been talking about me with his parents? “I’m Mrs Masters, Keith’s mom. But please feel free to call me Emma.” I smile and shake her hand in greeting. It’s damp. She must have been doing dishes, “Keith wasn’t feeling so well today, I told him to go to the doctor, but he refuses,” realising her hands are still wet she looks at them, matters an apology, and wrings them off with her apron.
“Come in, I’ll let Keith know you’re here,” I step inside, and plant my feet at the entrance as she closes the door and heads upstairs to let Keith know I’m here. I take a few more steps until I’m standing in their living room, it’s small. Smaller than my living room at home. But its nicely decorated, very fancy considering the way the house looks from the outside. Everything seems to have its place, and there isn’t a speck of dust on anything. A scented wax diffuser is turned on and glowing on the end of a shelf above the window, making the entire room smell like caramel apples.
Keith’s mom walks back down and gestures for me to take a seat while saying that Keith should be down in a minute. She offers me something to drink, which I politely decline. We sit there in awkward silence.
Looking around, I see several pictures on the walls of a young Keith and his mom. Drawing that he made, and are actually pretty good, are framed and hanging. The living room is beautiful and well lived in with lots of pale pink and brown laced pillows and blankets strewn across the sofa and armchairs. If I didn’t know better, I’d think a single girl lived here. I don’t see any traces of his dad.
Several minutes later, and no Keith. His mother sighs and gives me permission to go upstairs. She lets me know that his room is the second door on the left and that they observe and open door rule. I nod and quietly walk up the steps, trying my hardest not to lose my balance as my nerves once again begin to overpower me.
My mind debates if I should knock on the door or just open it already. Just as I’m about to knock on the door, my phone starts ringing. I dig inside my purse, cursing, of all the times to get a call, and without checking to see who the caller is, I answer with an angry, “What?”
I hear my voice on the other side of the door. It’s loud.
“Vidya?” It’s Keith. The door swings open. We just stare at each other, our phones still up to our ears. It takes us several seconds to register what happened and for him to hang up the call. The click seems louder than usual as we stare at each other for a few moments. The air is buzzing with electricity between us.
“I was calling you to tell you to go away,” he blurts. I did not come here to be insulted. I came here because I want answers. I slip my phone back into my pocket and narrow my eyes, “I’m here to talk whether you want to or not,” I say and step past him, and take in the sight of his room. It’s entirely clean, not a single item of clothing on the floor. He stands with his arms crossed; eyebrows lifted. His room is cleaner than mine actually. “Wow,” I say, “Your rooms nice,”
“Not all guys are animals you know,” he whispers into my ear. I jump not expecting him to have crept so close to me. I take a seat on his bed, its small but comfortable, and look around his room. Posters and magazine cut-outs are plastered across the walls along with images of his friends and family. His desk is neatly arranged with an older model laptop resting in the centre of it. A stack of books, including our school textbooks, are in a heap on the floor next to it.
“I know you’re not an animal,” I say giving closure to his previous sentence as I continue to take his room in. I’d never been in a guy’s bedroom before. I didn’t know what I’d expected.
He cuts in, “Why are you here. I told you I’m dropping out. I’ll finish up school online. It’s just one semester anyway. It’s over, we’re over, so go home.”
“Oh really,” I say feigning surprise. “Then how come your mother told me that you’re feeling sick? Haven’t you told her yet that you’re dropping out?” I spat, crossing my arms and looking away, “Admit it, Keith, you didn’t go to school today because you didn’t want to see me.”<
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“Exactly, if you happened to be paying attention to what I said the other night. You wouldn’t be here,” he says clearly agitated.
I play dumb, “What was it that you said exactly? Oh, yeah, I remember. I can’t even process the sight of you. You drive me insane. You make me sick,” I recite. I get off the bed and step right up to him. He doesn’t move, just looks away. I press up against him, place my hands on his chest, and shove. He doesn’t move. I push him again, harder, “What’s wrong, Keith? Say that to me right now, go on, say it!” I scream shoving him again, he steps back, letting me push him till he’s up against the door, closing it, and I fall to the ground beside him. My back to the door, I pull my legs up to my chest and hug them, resting my chin on my knees. He doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t speak. He continues to glare angrily into space.
I haven’t realised that I’m crying until I can feel the tears falling off my chin. This is stupid, here I am crying over some guy. It makes no sense. I run a sleeve over my eyes. I sniffle. I’ve humiliated myself enough.
“Vee,” Keith says gently. His voice barely above a whisper. He drops down to the floor beside me and wraps his arms around me. I give in and rest my head in the crook of his neck. A familiar feeling washes over me, and it’s so warm and lovely that I don’t want it to ever go away.
I honestly don’t know why any of this is happening. If only I’d let Keith walk away that day after my first game of truth or dare, none of these stupid things would be happening.
He takes a deep breath, and I can feel his Adam’s apple move up and down as he swallows. “I don’t like seeing you cry,” he says, kissing the top of my head.
“It’s your fault,” I sniffle, “If you don’t like seeing it, you shouldn’t have done it,”
“I know, I’m sorry Vee,” he’s caressing my hair, pulling me in tighter, “I fucked up your life by bringing you into mine—”
“No,” I say, pulling away from him abruptly, “You screwed up by not being honest with me telling me that we’re nothing. Keith don’t lie to me; you know perfectly well that there’s something between us. I can feel it; I know you can too. I came here because I was worried about you and because I need answers. You owe me that,”
“I do owe you,” he says. “And I do feel something Vee, and it scares me,” he admits.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to hurt you,” he says emphatically. I reach out my hand to touch him; he doesn’t pull away as I interlace our hands together and squeeze. My body flushes with warmth, he continued, “When we kissed at the party, I saw the reality of things. Vee, you rattled me in the most terrifying way possible.”
“I hurt my ex-girlfriend,” he admits, “Vee, I don’t ever want to cause you harm,” he says. Wait, was the girl he assaulted his ex? He didn’t mention that before. “I don’t ever want to hurt you, but it looks like I’ve been fucking up from the very beginning,”
I have no words. I can’t think of anything that could possibly comfort him. I can’t imagine how hard it was to go to court, to face the girl and her parents, to go to school with everyone who knew what had happened. It must have been awful.
I press my forehead against his, my eyes are closed, and I can feel his breath fan against my lips. Our mouths are so close I can practically feel his lips on mine. I’m not sure I want to kiss him, because I don’t think he’d be able to handle that right now. But being in this moment with him, right now, feels more intimate than anything we’ve done before and my body feels like it’s on fire,
“I want you to kiss me,” I say against Keith’s’ neck.
“You sure,” he whispers against my ear, “You know what I’ve said before; once I start, I won’t be able to stop.”
“You stopped before,” I whisper back.
“Yeah, but if I recall we were in a public bathroom,” he laughs, and I grin. It almost breaks the mood. He lifts my chin with one hand and presses his forehead to mind. I close my eyes, parting my lips as his lips lightly press against mine. I shiver, moaning gently.
The door bursts open on us, hitting me in the back so hard I let out a surprised yell. Keith grabs my arms and pulls me away from it, causing me to fall across his body onto the floor. The door swings open.
It’ Keith’s mom. She is stunned and stares poignantly at us. Her jaw hanging open as she sees me spread across Keith, our faces flushed pink.
“Mom, what is it?” Keith breaks away from me and sits up. Brushing his hair back from his face. I sit up and do the same, pulling my hair back over one shoulder and trying to look innocent; sitting with my legs crisscrossed.
“The open door rule—” she fumbles for words, and then finally asks. “Are you two dating?”
Keith and I are both taken aback by her bluntness, “No,” he answers curtly, “No, mom, we are not dating.”
As he said those words, I’d think he’d be up on his feet by now, but he’s still sitting next to me, one hand on my thigh. His mother gives him a look that says she isn’t buying it; I stifle a laugh. I have this weird feeling that she’d get along with my mom. She notices and offers me a kind smile. She seems nice.
She turns her attention back to Keith, “I came to tell you that dinner’s ready, and I made cookies for dessert,” she looks at me, “Vidya you are more than welcome to stay for dinner if you like?”
I give her a slight nod, “Thank you, Mrs Masters, …uhm…Emma,” it feels foreign to her use her first name. Keith gives me a curious glance but says nothing, “But I can’t stay. My mom is expecting me back, I said I’d pick up some things from the store on my way back,” I say. It’s only partly a lie. I really was going to the corner store. I look at my phone. Shit. It’s already almost an hour since I left. I’m surprised my mom hasn’t called me yet. I send her a quick text, letting her know that a friend caught me at the store, and we lost track of time. Another half-lie.
Mrs Masters nods in understanding, “Then at least let me hook you up with some cookies,” she offers with a smile. I nod.
After receiving a bag of cookies to take home, Keith and I stand on his small porch with the creaky boards. The cold wind seems to make the sounds spookier than they should be considering the sun is still up.
“Thank you for coming here,” Keith says. I open my mouth to respond, but he brings a finger up to let me know he hasn’t finished. “I know I haven’t been the easiest person to be around. I know I can come off as extreme and so when that asshole mentioned what happened—” I can hear the fear in his voice when he speaks about her. I know it’s difficult for him, but I’m glad I’ve got him talking about it now. What he did wasn’t entirely his fault. He shouldn’t have gotten so drunk, so out of control, but he was also manipulated into doing something that he wouldn’t have done otherwise.
“I’ve never felt more broken I mean, it’s like he cut the stitches of a wound that was only just starting to heal.” I hear the strain in his voice, he pounds his first onto the wooden post that holds up the patio roof, “The worst thing is, I have no idea how he found out about that. After the case was closed, the records were sealed. You know, so that me and—” he catches himself just as he was about to say her name, “So that girl and I could get on with our lives. No one else except the people in our class could have known about that,”
I don’t know either, how could Michael have possibly known about Keith’s life. He had never met him before, or had he? What if he was at that party the night it happened? What if he saw something, heard something? And then he saw me with him and decided it was the best time for him to drop the bomb because he’s a miserable asshole.
Keith continued, shaking his head, “It made me think about all the shit that has happened in my life, and what I’ve lost because of it. Vidya if I let you in, I need you to be aware of what you are getting yourself into. This might never go away; it might haunt me for—”
“Keith,” he looks up to meet my eyes, “You unravelled something in me. From the moment you came aft
er me to see if I was okay. You were concerned about me, you didn’t even know me, but you still knew something was bothering me. There’s a part of me that wants to start something with you, and another part that is mad at you, afraid of you even, and another that just doesn’t know what to do with you,” He laughs, but it’s a harsh laugh, “So what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
I continue, “I already know what I’m getting myself into. A mess,” I say. He smirks and takes the opportunity to reach over and link his hands with mine. With I smile and blink away a few tears, “That’s what it is. But I’m willing to put myself out there for you, Keith.”
“I’m more than a mess, Vidya,” he warns, “I’m more like a bomb waiting to blow up.”
“Then we’ll blow up together,” I answer and that apparently seals the deal for him, because he leans in and plants a soft, gentle kiss on my lips. So many warm familiar feelings cling onto the moment, this moment, our moment. This is our first real step into the scary world of dating.
I don’t want to leave him, but the buzzing in my pocket reminds me that I’m supposed to be leaving the corner store. As I walk home, another insistent buzz makes me check my phone. I roll my eyes as I slide the lock screen away. But it isn’t mom. I smile as I read the message. It's short and simple, but right now, it means the world to me.
Agent Keith: I’m glad you came by
Chapter 12
The days go, as usual, Keith and I usually hang out at lunch. But we also keep a careful distance. We’re still testing the waters, seeing how far our we’re willing to swim before heading back to the safe shore of family and friends. We’re trying not to make it obvious, but occasionally we catch ourselves flirting more freely. I’d like to do more, so much more. But for Keith’s sake, I’m trying to take it slow. I don’t want to scare him or make him feel as if he’s somehow taken advantage me. During fall break I mostly hung around the house, caught up on some studying, finished that book I’d been reading. Keith and I met for coffee just twice. It was nice, and when school started back up, things continued on as usual as teenage high school life could be.