by Leisa Rayven
“Ethan, no …”
“Suddenly my wrongness made sense. Like I was an imposter in my own life. And that made me really fucking angry, because I figured, ‘Why bother,’ you know? Why keep pretending? I’m not a real son or a real brother. I’m no one’s real anything. Maybe that’s why I’m a good actor. Every character I play is more real than I am.”
I take my hand out of his hair and stroke his face. He closes his eyes, and the muscles in his jaw tense and release.
“Ethan, come on. I’ve seen enough of your family to know that you’re absolutely real to all of them. They adore you, even your dad. And as for me, I’ve never met anyone as real as you in my whole life. Every day you inspire me to stop being what others want and just be myself. So don’t you dare sit there and tell me you’re not real to anybody. You’re surrounded by people who love you, despite your determination to push them away. If that’s not real, I don’t know what is.”
I expect him to argue, but to my surprise, he doesn’t. Instead, he searches my face, intense and frowning. “I’m surrounded by people who love me, huh?”
“Why does that surprise you?” I ask as I stroke his forehead. “You’re kind of amazing.”
His expression changes, and it looks like a smile is trying to escape from a maze of confusion. If it wasn’t so damn attractive, I’d find it funny.
“I just— I don’t …” He squeezes his eyes shut and pulls me over to him. I put my arms around him as he takes in a shaky breath.
We don’t say anything else, but it doesn’t feel as though we have to. He’s told me his darkest secret, and even though it explains so much about why he is like he is, I’ve decided it doesn’t matter. If and when he finally gets up the courage to be with me, I’m all in.
Hell, I’m all in already.
The next day, Holt practically throws me out of his apartment. Not in a nasty way. Just in a one-of-us-should-be-going-to-class way. When I call him that night, he sounds much better. His voice is coming back, and he tells me the coughing fits have become less frequent.
The following day is crazy busy, and it’s not until I’m dozing in bed that my phone buzzes.
I look at the screen and smile when I see the caller ID.
“Hey, sicko.”
“Hey.”
It’s crazy that one tiny word from him can make me almost dizzy with happiness. And it’s not even a special word. Just a boring old one-syllable greeting, yet I can feel a stupid grin plastered all over my face like cheap wallpaper.
I thought things might have gotten weird between us, since he told me he was adopted, but it hasn’t. If anything, it’s like telling me has removed a burden.
He still hasn’t said anything about getting our relationship back on an intimate footing, but I’m grateful we’re not staying away from each other.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?” I ask.
“I have been, all day. Now I’m wide awake.”
“Take some cough medicine. That’ll knock you out.”
“I have, but it hasn’t kicked in yet. It’s probably not a good idea to be talking to you right now. I tend to say stupid things under the influence of that stuff.”
“Not stupid. Just stuff you wouldn’t tell me normally. I love that cough medicine. I’ve learned more about you in the past two days than I have all year.”
“And yet, you’re still talking to me.”
“It’s a burden, but someone has to do it.”
He laughs. Such a beautiful sound.
He’s quiet for a second, then he says, “Listen, Cassie, I’ve been thinking—”
“Uh huh.” I can feel his nervousness through the phone line.
“I … I know that I was a dick about it the other day when Mom called, but … I want you to come to Thanksgiving.” His voice gets softer. “I don’t think I can go all those days without seeing you. I called Mom and asked her to get the spare room ready.”
I’m stunned. And unbelievably touched.
“Ethan …”
“You haven’t made other plans, have you?”
“Well, sort of. I did buy a frozen turkey dinner for one. I don’t know if I can possibly give that up on such short notice. It has ‘cranberry-flavored’ sauce.”
“Oh. Well, yeah. I mean, that’s some delicious frozen food. Do you need some time to think about it? Not to sway you or anything, but you know that Maggie runs a gourmet catering company, right? No pressure.”
I laugh. “Well, when you put it like that, I’d love to come.”
It’s not lost on me that this is sounding suspiciously like a date. I resist jumping out of bed and doing a happy dance.
“Good. I’ll pick you up tomorrow night. Where will you be?”
“You’re not coming to class tomorrow?” My stomach drops knowing that I’m not going to see him in the morning.
“No. I just need one more day to kick the last of this cough. Also, I’m going to need all my strength to survive the weekend with my father. So where can I pick you up?”
“Well, tomorrow afternoon we were all getting together at Jack’s place for preholiday drinks.”
“Okay, I’ll come there. We’ll drive to New York for dinner with Mom and Dad, and come back Sunday night.”
The thought of spending four days in New York City is dizzying enough, but knowing I’ll be living with Holt for that time? The word “ecstatic” is the only adjective that even comes close to how I’m feeling.
“Holt, should I be concerned that you’re being all … nice … all of a sudden?”
He laughs. “Maybe. It’s certainly scaring the hell out of me. Be careful what you wish for, Taylor. That’s all I can say.”
“Pfft. Pinocchio wished to be a real boy, and that turned out okay.”
“True. But he was then forever devoid of permanent wood. Think about it.”
I laugh, and a few seconds later when he yawns, I join him.
“Go to sleep,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“Okay, sure.”
As we hang up, I feel like one of those paleontologists who works with a tiny brush and spends years slowly clearing away grains of dirt to reveal a precious relic or treasure. I don’t think Holt would approve of me calling him a relic, but I’m smiling nonetheless.
By the time six o’clock rolls around the next night, most of my classmates are well on their way to being extremely hammered. Some have gone home to visit family, but for the most part, everyone is waiting until Christmas, like me. Thanksgiving is really just an excuse to be drunk for four days.
Ruby sits beside me on the sofa, sipping an industrial-strength margarita and bobbing her head to the music. I sit next to her, and my leg bounces nervously as I wait for Holt to show up. Ruby orders Jack to get me another drink to help chill me out, but I couldn’t chill right now if I were dressed as a polar bear and dipped in liquid nitrogen.
I’m watching Mariska and Troy burn up the dance floor with some impressive swing-dance moves, when they pull apart to reveal Holt in the doorway.
Oh. He’s here.
There’s a huge roar as people see him and crowd around like he’s a long-lost mythical creature. People ask how he is and tell him they’ve missed him. Zoe hugs him. Jack claps him on the back. And even though he smiles and responds, throughout it all his focus is on me.
I can hardly breathe.
“Whoa,” Ruby whispers beside me. “Did Holt have some weird version of bronchitis that increases his sex appeal? Because … damn. Boy is looking fine.”
He’s dressed in black jeans and a dark blue V-neck sweater. His hair’s chaotic, and his jaw is freshly shaved. I can’t turn away. He looks a little tired, but far less pale than when I last saw him. I have the strangest urge to walk over to him, wrap myself around his torso, and cling to him like a limpet.
Of course if I did that in the miniskirt I’m currently wearing, I’d look like an extremely slutty limpet. The kind the other limpets would shun and talk about behind
her back.
I stand up and move toward him. I need to be near him.
When I stop in front of him, Jack’s in the middle of a story about how Lucas simulated masturbation in acting class today, and how Erika had surprised everyone by praising him for being brave.
“I swear, man,” Jack says as everyone laughs, “Beneath that hard-faced-bitch exterior, Erika’s a complete sex freak.”
Holt smiles at me and shoves his hands in his pockets as I mouth “hi” to him.
“Hey.”
Jack slaps his shoulder. “Can I get you a drink? Beer? Shot of bourbon?”
“No, thanks. We’re not staying long.”
“We? Who’s ‘we’?”
“Me and Taylor.”
Jack looks around at the crowd and raises his eyebrows. “You and Taylor? Well, well, well. What’s going on here?”
For a moment, there’s panic in Holt’s eyes, but he takes a deep breath and says, “She’s spending the holidays with me in New York.”
Oh.
Wow.
Jack stares at us, stunned. By this time, Lucas and Zoe have joined him.
I can feel that my mouth is open, but I’m too shocked right now to shut it.
“Seriously?” Jack asks. Holt nods, and Jack turns to me. “Taylor, won’t your mystery man have something to say about you spending time with tall-and-intense here? I mean, he saw you two in Romeo and Juliet, right? This could be an epically stupid move.”
I try to think of something to say to deflect Avery’s attention, but it turns out I don’t have to. Holt has it covered.
“Actually, Jack,” he says before swallowing nervously. “I’m her mystery man. And I’m completely okay with her spending time with me.”
The room goes deathly quiet. The music has stopped, and if I listen real carefully, I can probably hear the wind blowing through the tumbleweeds outside.
I stop breathing, terrified that if I move, I’ll wake from this awesome dream.
Jack stares between Holt and me in disbelief. “I’m sorry, but what? You’re the guy she told us about? The fucking moron who won’t sleep with her?”
Holt glowers and gives him a tight smile. “Yep. That’s me. Fucking moron, in the flesh.”
Oh my God. Please don’t let me wake up. Let it be real.
There’s a pregnant pause before Jack punches his fist into the air and yells, “Yeaaaaaaah!”
The room explodes with chatter, and Jack turns and high-fives the people behind him. “All right, everyone who had Taylor dating someone other than Holt, pay up. Markers are due, people! The eagle has landed! Repeat, the eagle has landed. Someone remind me to pay Erika.”
The living room looks like the floor of the New York Stock Exchange, with cash and tickets being waved in the air while people chatter and laugh.
“Wait a minute!” Holt yells and glares at Jack. “You … you ran a fucking book on whether or not Taylor and I were together?”
Jack’s face drops. “Well, yeah. But it was all in fun, man. You two have been making goo-goo eyes at each other for freaking months. We had to have fun with it somehow.”
“Dude!” Holt says stiffly. “I do not make goo-goo eyes.”
Lucas pats him lightly on the shoulder. “Sorry to break it to you, bro, but you totally do. Lucky you two got good crits for Romeo and Juliet, because in real life? You totally suck at acting.”
Holt looks at me in shock, and I step in and put my hand on his chest.
“Um, so … wow.”
He blinks and shakes his head. “What the hell just happened?”
“Good question.”
He stands there for a few seconds like a goldfish, watching the action around him with a look of confusion. It’s only when I trace along the skin at the neck of his sweater that he snaps out of it and looks at me.
“Hi. I’m Cassie Taylor. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
I know it’s quippy, but it’s the truth. Who is this open and declarative man in front of me?
His ears turn pink. “Uh … yeah. Hi.”
“So, that was … unexpected.”
“Yeah. But good unexpected, right?”
How can he possibly think otherwise when I’m smiling up at him like I’m high?
“Very good unexpected. Did you mean to out us when you came here tonight?”
“No. Well, yes. I mean, I didn’t know for sure, but when I saw you, I … I guess over the last few days I’ve realized that what I want with you outweighs how much you scare me. And I’m tired of depriving myself. It’s too fucking draining. I want to be with you.”
I put my arms around his neck. To his credit, he only looks around once to see who’s watching before focusing on me.
“Stop freaking out.”
His breathing gets faster as he stares at me. “Make me.”
I pull his head down. When he kisses me, it’s soft and chaste, but the way he inhales and tightens his arms around me tells me his reaction is anything but mild. There are various whoops of approval around us, but we ignore them. It’s kind of easy when all my focus is directed at resisting the urge to become a slutty limpet.
He kisses me more firmly, and through my lusty haze, I’m impressed that he’s being so bold in front of everyone. I know this is kind of a big deal for him.
I’m proud.
He pulls back as the entire room applauds, and he gives them all a good-natured bird flip as he drags me down the hallway into the deserted study.
When I close the door behind us, he sighs in relief and runs his fingers through his hair.
“See?” I say. “After all these weeks of secrecy and denial, was that so hard?”
He pulls me against him, not being shy about running his hands over my butt as he stares down at me. “Taylor, I can say with absolute honesty, that yes. It was, and is, extremely hard.”
He kisses me again, less restrained now, and walks me back toward the wall. He’s groaning in a way that makes me want to crawl inside his throat and rub myself on his larynx. The sounds I’m making are embarrassingly loud. For so long, I’ve been waiting for him to just let go and give in to this thing between us, and now that he is, it’s so much better than the fantasy.
There’s no hesitation. No self-consciousness. He’s kissing me like he’s afraid to stop. Like he’s trying to make up for all those long days of separation.
Part of me is still convinced this isn’t reality, but when he lifts me up so he can grind against me, I decide I don’t care. Whatever it is, I’ll take it.
“We should really stop,” he says as he kisses down to my clavicle.
I grip his hair. “Of course we should. Best possible solution to all this burning lust between us. Good plan.”
He cups my breasts, and caresses them through my sweater. “Don’t mock me.”
“Then don’t stay stupid things like ‘We should really stop.’”
“You have a point. I didn’t declare us as a couple in front of everyone so that you could continue not touching my dick, that’s for sure.”
“On it.” My breathing is loud as I palm him through his jeans.
He puts his hand on the wall behind me and hangs his head. “Sweet Jesus.”
I squeeze him through the fabric, and he drops his head lower until his forehead is resting on mine.
“At the risk of being mocked again,” he says breathlessly as he pulls back, “you really need to stop doing that. We kind of have to get on the road if we’re going to make it to Mom and Dad’s for dinner.”
With reluctance, I remove my hand. He steps back and sighs. “Just give me a minute. Jack probably has a bet going that I’ll be walking out of here with a hard-on.”
“Maybe I should go put some money down. I could win big.”
“Especially if you continue to stand there in that nonexistent skirt.”
“You like this?”
“If I said no, would you take it off?”
“Only one way to find out.”
; He explores under my skirt, long fingers grazing my thigh.
“Ethan,” I say breathlessly. “If you go there, we’re absolutely not getting out of here any time soon. You know that, right?”
“I know. I just have a very hot girlfriend, and when my hands are on her, I get carried away.”
All the breath leaves my lungs. “You’re admitting I’m your girlfriend? Finally?”
When he answers, his voice is soft. “Yes, Cassie. You’re my girlfriend.”
My stomach flips.
I don’t think I’m going to get tired of him saying that word any time in the near future.
Although he’s smiling, I also see a little panic in his eyes.
“Just saying it is freaking you out, isn’t it?”
“A little.”
“Do you think you can get used to it?”
He strokes my neck and thinks for a second. “I hope so. I want to.”
My cheap-wallpaper grin is back. “Me, too.”
He smiles, and I wrap my arms around him. “Was this what you were afraid of? Because even though I really don’t have much experience with this sort of thing … I think it’s going well so far.”
His smile fades. “Taylor, I have to warn you once again that I suck at relationships. I’ve made that clear, right?”
I stand on my toes to kiss him. “We’ll be fine. Stop thinking so much.”
He nods and sighs, and for a moment, he’s completely open.
Like that, he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
NINETEEN
NEW YORK, NEW YORK
New York City
The Holt Residence
From where we’re standing on the pavement, the Holt brownstone looks huge and imposing. I shudder.
Okay, Cassie, be cool. You’ll be fine.
When I look at Holt, I notice he seems nervous, too.