by Edie Danford
“I wish I’d known you,” I whispered against his hair.
He pulled back and looked into my eyes. The pain lurking there was deep. I knew there was more to this story. “What?” I asked.
“You did know me,” he said. He licked his lips, nervous in a way I’d never seen him be. “Sort of.”
“I knew you?” I shook my head. I would’ve remembered him. Nick was unforgettable.
“Remember when you coached soccer camp at the college for a couple summers?”
I stared at him. Soccer camp. “For real? You were there? Like enrolled as a student?”
He nodded.
I furrowed my brow, feeling actual pain as I thought back on the summers I’d spent at home my first years at Ellery. I’d shoved memories of those days into a heavy, compact box. If I let them out, I’d have to deal with thinking about all the ways I’d mishandled a relationship with one of my co-coaches at soccer camp. And relive the end of my parents’ marriage.
Nick’s soft laughter sounded pained. “I get why you wouldn’t remember. I sucked at soccer but I wasn’t the worst player. That honor belonged to a kid named Justin Silverman.”
Justin Silverman. Yeah. I totally remembered him. Got scarily red-faced during running drills, but had a good attitude and good instincts on defense.
Okay, I remembered Justin. But shit. Why couldn’t I remember Nick?
“I looked a lot different then,” Nick was saying. “I wore glasses all the time. And I still had braces that first summer. Second summer I experimented a lot with hair styles and color.”
I narrowed my eyes, picturing him the way he looked on that photo album cover—pale and skinny and blue-haired. “God,” I said. “Why can’t I remember?”
He shrugged again. “I wasn’t very memorable. I mean, I hate to remember the way I was back then. There were times when I wanted to be invisible. Maybe it worked some of the time. I would never have expected a guy like you to remember a guy like me.”
He was using his most casual tone, but I could feel the emotion riding under the surface, feel it in the tension of his body so close to mine, see it in the set of his chin. And his words—“a guy like me”—they were so uncharacteristically Nick, who, yes, could be mysterious and vulnerable, but who I mostly associated with charisma and confidence and outrageous smarts, and, God, it was really painful to hear.
“Jesus, Nick…”
I searched for words, my brain struggling to process this brand-new set of images he’d hit me with. “Did you keep playing soccer?” I asked. “Were you on the high school team?”
“Nah. I’m not much for athletic pursuits. I’m kind of a klutz. And actually…I dropped out of camp just a couple weeks into my second year. As my dad likes to say—I don’t have a lot of stick-to-itiveness.”
I took a few seconds to process this. Struck me as off. For one thing, Nick wasn’t a klutz. I knew the way his body moved, how he so beautifully used muscle and skin and bone and motion. And granted, I didn’t know him nearly as well as his dad must know him, but Nick didn’t strike me as the type of guy who gave up on things he was really interested in. His work in the library, the way he studied, his love of the tower and all its trappings, his patience with me.
My expression must’ve looked stricken or something because Nick’s hand came down on my arm gently and he said, “It’s okay if you don’t remember, Josh. Not a big deal.”
But if felt like a big deal somehow. The air around us seemed thick and weird. Maybe because of the scent of Pete’s cologne. Maybe because of the background noise of the awful music downstairs. Someone was shouting, but I couldn’t make out the words. Parties got rowdy—even in Vegan House apparently—on Homecoming weekend.
Parties. I suddenly remembered Nick approaching me at that party in Boston, that knowing smile on his face. “God,” I said. “You must’ve thought I was the biggest asshole in the world when you came up to me at that party in Boston and I didn’t even remotely recognize you. I mean, no wonder you didn’t mention that you knew me—”
“Yeah,” he said. “I mean, no. I need to tell you about that. And about some of the shit that went down that last summer you came home to Lake Woods—”
Before he could finish the sentence someone—maybe a few people—thumped down the hallway, voices raised. “You fucking bitch! Get the fuck away from me—”
“Shit,” Nick muttered, standing abruptly. “That’s Kelsey. And her ex.”
As he made his way to the door, I heard a huge crash and a thump, an awful grunt of pain.
I stood too, following Nick as he rushed into the hall. “What the hell?”
Kelsey was on the floor at the top of the stairs, another woman on top of her. Kelsey had her arms up defensively and the woman—who appeared much larger—had a chunk of Kelsey’s Mohawk in a nasty grip. And it looked like Kelsey’s nose was bleeding.
“Hey!” I hollered. “Stop!”
Nick and I both ran toward them. Nick knelt, shielding Kelsey’s head as I worked to pull the other woman off.
“What the fuck?” Nick rasped, horror in his voice. “Jesus, get off her, Chelle!” Kelsey was sobbing pitifully and sympathetic tears welled in my throat.
I was trying not to be too rough as I tugged at the woman’s—Chelle’s—shoulders. I finally got her off and she collapsed on the stairs. “Goddamn cheating-ass lying bitch!” She heaved each word with venom.
“Easy,” I said. “Easy does it.” I didn’t want her to fall down the stairs. It was obvious from the scent of pot and alcohol rising from both women’s bodies that loss of control had happened here on a bunch of levels.
Nick had gathered Kelsey in his arms and they were both propped against the hallway wall. “Can you find a towel for her nose?” he asked. “Down in the bathroom, maybe?”
“Okay. What do you think? Emergency room?”
“Nuh!” she groaned.
“I’m pretty sure it’s just a bloody nose,” Nick said. He peered down into Kelsey’s blood-and tear-streaked face. “I don’t think it’s broken, but we’ll know more if we can clean her up a bit.”
I stood, a little wary of leaving Chelle on the stairs. I put my hand on her shoulder, trying to get a look at her face. She sounded like she might hyperventilate or—
She retched violently, sending a god-awful mess spewing down her front and halfway down the stairs.
“Oh fuck…” Nick and I both cursed, using identical words and tones.
I swallowed against the bile rising in my throat and hollered down the stairway. “Hey!” I called in my loudest, deepest coach voice. “Anyone down there? We need some help!” I took off my shirt and put it under Chelle’s drooping head. “Don’t nail the stairs again,” I told her.
Chelle continued to moan, Kelsey continued to cry and finally a girl and a guy appeared at the turn in the landing. They immediately assessed the grossness of the situation, cursing with feeling, and the girl said, “I’ll get paper towels.”
“Call campus security,” I told the guy who was still standing there, grimacing. “We might or might not need an EMT—they’ll be a better judge—but they’ll need to straighten out whatever happened with the fight and figure out next steps.” The dude didn’t respond. “Got it?” I prompted in my coach voice. He nodded and pulled out his phone.
Taking a shallow breath, I stepped around Chelle and over Nick’s and Kelsey’s legs. “I’ll get some towels,” I told Nick. His lips were pressed together tightly and I wondered if he was one of those unfortunate types prone to empathetic puking. “Maybe get her into her room? I’ll handle shit out here—you’ll both be more comfortable in there.”
“Good idea,” he said, struggling to his knees. I helped him get Kelsey to her feet. She abruptly set her head on my shoulder and moaned. “Okay,” Nick whispered from her other side, pressing his lips to her hair. “C’mon, Kelsey-babe.”
I opened the door to her room—thankfully unlocked—and helped them get settled on her bed. I hoofed it down to the bath
room, found a towel, soaked a corner of it in cold water and headed back down the hall, grateful to see the girl and the guy and a couple other people were helping Chelle and beginning to deal with the mess.
I walked into Kelsey’s room. She was lying down now and Nick was propping up her shoulders and head with pillows. “Here,” I said, handing him the towel. “I’ll go see about getting some ice.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Thanks.” He ran his hand over his head and took a deep breath. “Is someone helping Chelle?”
I nodded.
Kelse gripped Nick’s hand. “Don’t leave me alone!”
“I’m not leaving,” I heard his voice soothe as I left the room.
As I headed for the stairs, I saw Lauren. I asked if she could take ice and a first-aid kit to Kelsey’s room—she knew where stuff was and would get it there faster than I could.
As she ran off, I carefully made my way down the stairs, and when I reached the first floor I saw Chelle sitting on a bench in the entry hall with a woman and a man wearing campus police uniforms. Plenty of them on patrol on a night like tonight—they must have been close by to get here so fast. I approached, waited to be acknowledged and gave my side of the story. Chelle remained quiet—she had her head in her hands. My shirt was in her lap. I never wanted it back.
Someone—I think it was Lauren again—volunteered to show the woman officer up to Kelsey’s room and I headed for the kitchen, hoping to find more paper towels and soap to clean up. Snot, blood and barf were making my skin crawl.
As I walked through the living area to get to the kitchen—the music was hushed and peoples’ voices were low and concerned-sounding—Pete approached.
“Josh! What the hell happened?”
I heaved a sigh, ran my hand over my hair and winced. “Nick’s friend—the woman who lives across the hall from him, Kelsey—got in a fight. He’s up there helping her.”
“Holy shit! A fight as in knockdown, drag-out?”
I nodded and gestured toward the kitchen. “I gotta get cleaned up.”
He followed, asking for more details on the fight. I warily related what I knew, trying not to be annoyed at the shrill, excited tone of his voice. He didn’t know any of these people, didn’t know Kelsey. So for him, maybe it was like some kind of fascinating college-themed reality show. For me, it was depressing. I’d broken up more than a few fights caused by asshole behavior fueled by drugs, alcohol and otherwise. Fucking sucked. I felt old and tired and worried.
As I stood at the sink, one of the women who’d been on cooking duty last week—I couldn’t remember her name—handed me a clean dishtowel and helped me find the soap. I smiled, grateful for her gentle touch and her concerned murmurs, including a couple curses in familiar-to-me Portuguese. She reminded me of my mom. I wanted to ask her if she was of Brazilian descent—like my mom was—but it wasn’t the time or the place.
“Thanks,” I said to her. “I’m Josh, by the way. And you’re…?”
“Lena,” she said.
“So what should we do?” Pete asked. “Is Nick going to able to get away, do you think? Should we find another party or somewhere to hang out until he’s done helping Chelsea? Or Kelsey—was that her name?”
“Yeah, um…” It was likely Nick was going to be helping Kelsey for a long time. I knew from some of the volunteer work I’d done with my mom at the shelters she’d supported over the years, that assault wasn’t something someone got over in a night or a week or a month. It would depend on all kinds of things. I didn’t know the details of Kelsey’s relationship with Chelle, but that shit seemed seriously bad. “I don’t know about leaving Nick right now.”
“You know you can go hang out somewhere else, right?” Lena asked Pete. “You wouldn’t have to go more than a dozen steps to find another party. You don’t have to hang out here if it’s bringing you down.”
“Yeah.” Pete smiled. “I figured. But I was kinda hoping to explore campus and hit up parties with someone who actually knows the ins and outs around here.” He glanced at me, and I knew what he was hinting at, but there was no way I was gonna leave Nick and Kelsey here to go party with Pete.
I was about to tell him that he was being an insensitive fuck, when Lena looked up at me and said, “I think we need better light. Can you come with me to the bathroom?” Her gaze shifted to Pete. “You wait here, okay?”
He nodded, and I followed her into the small restroom in the hall outside the kitchen. She waited until the door closed behind us to say in a low voice, “We would be very grateful if you could maybe…” She bit her lip.
I saved her from having to be diplomatic. “Take Pete off your hands for a while?”
She nodded. “His vibe is all wrong for this scene. I think it would be helpful for everyone if you steered his energy elsewhere.”
I smiled at her phrasing. “Okay. If it helps you guys out, I can steer Pete’s energy.”
“Thanks.” Her answering smile was lovely. “You should take him to see the bonfire. It’s very beautiful. I’m sad to be missing it myself.”
“You should go,” I told her, feeling shitty about how everything had unfolded. “The campus cops will sort out everything here.”
Her dark gaze fell on the dishtowel she still held. She grimaced and shook her head. “No. House members are good at rallying around each other. We’ll make sure Kelsey is comfortable and that everyone else stays chill. I’ll tell Nick and Kelse that you left for a while, if you’d like.”
“Okay.”
We left the bathroom and I proposed the idea of the bonfire to Pete.
“It’s like you read my mind,” he said. “Big fire sounds like big fun. Especially with you in that outfit.”
I looked down at my bare chest. Shit. I glanced at Lena. “You wouldn’t happen to have a T-shirt around or something?”
“I do actually. I think it might fit you too.” She walked over to the big pantry between the back porch and the other end of the kitchen.
“You could always borrow something of mine,” Pete said, wearing that oddly appealing smile.
I sent him a small smile back, thinking, um, yeah, no.
Lena approached, smiling and holding something bright green. She handed it to me. “Only one we had left was an XXL.”
I held up the shirt, looked at it and couldn’t hold back a laugh. It said, “Vegan Zombie” in big white letters. Underneath the words three stick figures lurked, arms outstretched, chanting, “Grains, grains, grains!”
“Stylin’!” hooted Pete.
I looked at him and he grinned. “It’ll look awesome with your coloring,” he said.
Again, I caught a glimpse of his clever-cute appeal. I exhaled a long, silent breath and considered Peter Schulz from Lake Woods, Illinois. Pete, who’d been Nick’s best friend while Nick had gone through some “tough times” in school. Pete, who for some reason, thought it was fucked up that Nick and I had something going on.
He raised his blond brows at me, as if he knew what I was thinking. Yeah, Josh Pahlke, I’m your boy’s best friend, so you better learn how to deal.
I thought about the conversation I’d been having with Nick before we were interrupted. And I thought about the conversation I’d overheard Pete and Nick having before I’d interrupted them. The weirdness of this night meant I’d have to wait to ask questions, wait to hear answers. I tugged on the shirt. “Okay,” I said, squeezing his leather-clad shoulder. “Let’s go check out the bonfire.”
Chapter Fourteen
Nick
KELSEY DIDN’T WANT to talk. She was awake and, although I could see regrets and explanations and questions happening behind her blue eyes, she stayed quiet despite my occasional invitation to speak.
She seemed to want me there—whenever I shifted on the bed beside her, she’d re-grip my fingers tightly—and so I stayed. But, God, my mind zoomed and zipped and ran all over the fucking place.
Lena had come up to tell us that Josh had taken Pete out to see some of Ellery and ch
eck out the bonfire. I was both glad and terrified to hear this news. Also guilty because as soon as Kelse heard it, I could see in her face that she felt awful for keeping me here. I didn’t want to her to feel awful so I reassured her in every way I could think of, mostly with cuddles since she didn’t seem to want words.
I wondered what words Josh and Pete were exchanging.
Josh had been awesome after what went down between Kelse and Chelle. Taking charge, reassuring everyone with his deep voice and calming presence. Dealing with blood and puke with typical Josh-like efficiency and kindness.
But shit…shit, shit, shit.
This night had turned into such a goddamn clusterfuck. I couldn’t help but think of how Josh had seemed earlier. When I’d heard that knock on my door—interrupting the scene where I wanted to shove all of Pete and his leather, suede and silk, and his inane, guilt-inducing accusations into his fancy bags and ship them straight back to L.A.—I’d been scared out of my mind that all the crap I’d been dreading was about to slam me in the face.
And when I’d opened the door and I’d seen the look on his face… He’d been so Josh. He hadn’t screamed or hollered or accused, despite what he must’ve overheard.
No, as he’d looked into my eyes, his expression had gone soft with worry and he’d pulled me in for a hug. And I’d thought there might be a chance. That maybe there was enough of me he could genuinely love that, if I told him the whole truth, he’d understand.
But I’d missed my chance. It was perfect karmic justice that Josh had ended up thrown together with Pete tonight. Pete, who knew all kinds of crap about me I’d prefer Josh never know. Pete, who was mad as hell at me for not telling him about Josh.
I must’ve made some kind of weird noise because Kelsey startled and looked over at me, her eyes wide.
“What?”
It wrenched my chest to watch her speak. Her upper lip was swollen. And her nose was swollen too. Her jaw looked stiff and painful. And, Jesus, I wanted to find Chelle Martin and—
I took a deep breath. God. Okay. Those thoughts made me feel worse about the whole situation.