by Lindsey Iler
“You don’t give up on the ones you love.” Mark’s smile half-heartedly shifts onto his face. “I get it, but he doesn’t deserve your devotion.”
“Graham’s one of your best friends, and he doesn’t need you to turn your back on him because you suddenly find yourself pining over me. Graham’s a good guy who’s been dealt a shit hand. He’s made his fair share of bad decisions, but punishing him for them any more than he punishes himself is cruel.”
“I can’t begin to understand what you and Graham have been through, and I’m not sure I want to, but if what you need from me is to pretend that what I overheard tonight didn’t happen, then I will. Because I’m not pining over you, Kennedy. I’m full blown wrapped up.” His smile grows with his confession.
“You should talk to him,” I suggest. “Graham’s been your friend for a long time. He may not deserve my devotion, but he deserves you to be there for him.”
Mark’s fingers brush through my hair. “How can someone who’s been through hell and back be as forgiving and compassionate as you are?” His eyes soften as he tilts his head to the side.
“I’m not forgiving for just anyone. Some will never earn my forgiveness, but Graham isn’t one of those people.”
Mark’s hand falls from my head. His distance settles in the deepest part of my heart. I lean against the headrest and look out into the dark yard.
Mark clears his throat before he speaks. “He’s never going to be gone, is he?”
I turn to find Mark’s eyes wide with recognition. We watch each other for several minutes.
I close my eyes and answer. “No, not fully. I don’t know, maybe.” My confusion leaks through every word.
“Fair enough.” Mark mutters, placing a soft kiss on my cheek.
I watch him drive away until his headlights are a distant memory. The stress of the night barrels down on me. Every muscle in my body screams out for relief. The front steps become my haven as I look up at the night’s sky.
My mind wanders to what I know with Graham and what I’m beginning to feel with Mark. The love in my heart that surrounds Graham, I will never deny.
And then there’s Mark.
The truth is, my heart’s in a constant battle between the two of them.
*****
In the morning, I wake with a clear mind. Without opening my eyes, I know I’m not alone. A deep breath is all I need to inhale his scent. My eyes flutter open with excitement. I don’t try to hide the smile on my face.
“Why are you here?”
“I tried calling all morning,” Mark whispers. “How are you still sleeping?” His hand finds my calf, squeezing it in a gentle, playful gesture.
Frantic to find the clock on my bedside table, I sit straight up in the bed. “What time is it?” I’m still in my clothes from last night.
“Noon.” He reaches for the loose curl around my face and tucks it behind my ear. “You’re gorgeous in the morning.” His fingers wrap around the strands. His eyes shine with admiration as I lean into his touch. “Even with messy hair.”
“Mark...” His name rolls off my tongue like a prayer.
“We should do something fun today.” He jumps off the bed and walks to my door before turning toward me with a sincere, painfully adorable smile on his lips.
“What do you have in mind?” I ask, pulling the blankets from my lap.
He pats my leg and stands from the bed. “Get dressed. We’ll figure something out together.”
I hear the meaning behind his words, loud and clear.
Together.
Mark and my parents’ laughter soon fill my room. I pull my hair into a messy bun, apply a thin layer of mascara, and throw on clean clothes to spend the day with Mark. Everything seems to be falling into place.
Chapter Fourteen
Graham
Yesterday, I hid behind a stupid magazine rack at the grocery store to hide from Violet. I was ready to ditch my pack of gum and energy drink in the name of invisibility. I’ve been using the old duck and weave tactic to avoid my friends. To be under their scrutiny is unbearable.
Instead, I’ve spent the last handful of days playing video games with Kacey, hiding out from the world. We’ve eaten junk food, laughed, and made-out a little bit. It’s a nice feeling, and on some sick level, I understand Kennedy’s situation with Mark.
That doesn’t mean I like it.
“I’m going to kick your ass,” Kacey squeals from the bed. My character roundhouse kicks hers in the gut, proving her effort to beat me at Mortal Combat is admiral, but pointless. “How do you do that?”
I shrug in the most nonchalant way.
“No, seriously. We aren’t leaving this room until I beat you.” Kacey throws an unopened bag of chips at me. She leans on her knees, her eyes determined as she watches the video.
“I don’t know how I do it,” I say as my character knocks out Kacey’s.
“Oh my god! You just push a bunch of buttons like a goddamn lunatic and still manage to beat me, while I’m over here strategically setting up moves?” She throws her Xbox controller and growls.
“Are you pissed?” I laugh at the way her face is scrunched and fall back on the mattress.
“I don’t like losing.” Kacey jumps from the bed and paces.
“Well, we have that in common.” I smirk.
“I could tell that by the way you raced the other night.” Kacey spins and points at me.
My spine tightens at the mention of that night. As much time as we’ve spent together, Kacey hasn’t brought it up yet. I’ve managed to avoid the treacherous subject until now.
“Graham...” Kacey begins. I hear the determination behind that one single word. “Are we ever going to talk about what happened?” Kacey circles the bed until she’s in front of me.
“Can we not?” I protest. My gaze lands on her knees.
“Or we can,” Kacey insists, a cute smirk on her face. She knows she’s going to win.
“What do you want to know?”
“I overheard the yelling, you know? But I couldn’t make any of it out. Next thing I know, Dan ushers me to his truck, and I’m being dropped off at home.” Kacey waves her hands in the air. “I expected my night to end a lot differently than leaving you in the arms of your ex-girlfriend.” She shoots me a determined look and digs her fists into her hips. She’s not going to budge on this.
“Déjà vu,” I whisper.
Kacey crouches down in front of me. Her hands splay across my knees and her head tilts in question. “You’re hiding something.”
“I am, and it’s a secret I would’ve taken to my grave if that night hadn’t happened.” I wish for it all to be a dream.
“So, I’m going to take a wild guess and say that Dan, Violet, and Mark all know this secret?” Kacey asks.
I nod.
“And since I’m not going to be a girlfriend who really matters in the grand scheme of things, I’m not privy to the same information as them.” Kacey nods as the reality of our situation sinks in.
“That’s not fair and you know it.” I push Kacey’s hands off my knees and stand.
Her hands break her fall and she shrugs. “It’s the truth.”
I pace my room as she complains about us not being a couple and how Kennedy will always hold reign over every relationship I have.
Blah. Blah. Blah.
“You don’t see it. You’re blinded.” Kacey speaks in a whisper.
“You want to know the truth?” I shout when I can’t take it anymore. “Do you want to know the ugly, fucking truth? I ran Kennedy over that night. It wasn’t some stranger. It. Was. Me.”
Kacey’s irritated sneer falls from her lips. She exhales a long breath. “That’s why she was upset to see you drinking a few beers, then getting behind the wheel to race. But how did you guys end up where you are now?” Kacey pries. Her eyes go soft as she watches me.
“It’s an easy story. Boy runs over girl. Girl forgives boy. They become quick friends, and without reason,
they fall in love – hard – then stupid boy allows his world to engulf her, only for her to end up hurt again.”
Kacey brushes off my self-deprecation with a head shake. “Everything isn’t your fault, you know?”
“You’re starting to sound like Kennedy,” I offer as I leave Kacey in my bedroom.
After our conversation, I think she finally understands that my and Kennedy’s situation is far more complicated than she’s able to comprehend and fix.
Monday, it hits me that I can’t use Kacey to avoid my friends’ questions. When I pull into the practice facility parking lot, Dan’s leaning against his truck waiting for me.
With it being winter break, the team has made an effort to get in some much needed batting practice. Lucky for us, we live in Tennessee. Not only is the weather cooperative most of the time, but we also have the luxury of indoor facilities if it’s raining, like today.
“Hey,” I shout as I swing open my car door.
“Quit avoiding my calls, man. Violet caught you dodging her at the store, too, by the way.” Dan laughs at my antics. “You knew we’d talk eventually.”
“Yeah, but I was hoping to avoid it for as long as possible,” I admit. “Lay it on me.”
“I don’t have anything for you. I’ve just been wanting to make sure you’re okay.” Dan grabs his bag from the backseat before turning to me. “Kennedy filled me in, and once all the dust settled, I had to accept it. I don’t understand it, but it’s Kennedy’s life, her choice, not mine.”
I roll the sleeves of my shirt to my elbows. “I didn’t want to leave her that night.”
“I know.” Dan slaps my shoulder in reassurance. “She told me that, too. Now, let’s go practice. I’m getting drenched out here.”
“Quit being a little bitch,” I joke. “You won’t melt.”
Dan throws his arm over my shoulder and drags me by the neck into the building.
In unison, we throw our bags on one of the benches outside the batting cages. After I take a few practice swings, Dan walks inside the fence.
“So, have you made a decision yet?” Dan shouts. The sound system blares with a rock song I don’t recognize. His eyes never leave the pitching machine as he waits. He misses the first ball, but rockets the second one.
He doesn’t need to clarify what he’s talking about. It’s all any of us seniors talk about. College.
I take the offered bat from Dan. “That’s about the dumbest question you’ve ever asked. There’s only one decision.” I take his spot on the plate.
I repeat the same ritual I’ve done a million times. It’s a baseball player thing. We all have one. I hit the plate twice with the bat, swing partially, swirl the bat just above my shoulder, swing all the way through, and then set up for the pitch. Athletes are notorious for superstitions, and I’m one of them. My eyes train on the machine. I wait for the pitch and swing until I feel the familiar vibration from the effortless connection.
I hand the bat back to Dan. He takes it, going through his own little dance, and then turns to me. “I just thought that you might still be considering Maryland or maybe UConn.” Dan smirks at me as he lets two pitches pass him.
“Will you stop with that crap? I know what you’re doing. Those were only options before. Now it’s off the table. End of story.” I exhale loudly as I pick up another bat and practice my swing.
“Did you apply though? That’s the question.” Dan laughs, turning back towards the plate. He swings, knocking the ball across the cage.
“Shut the hell up.” I toss the metal bat against the fence.
Since he overheard Coach talking to me about Maryland and UConn, Dan has been making small comments about how beautiful it is in the spring or how well-crafted their baseball teams have been the past several seasons. Although Dan’s become one of my best friends, and he’s been my savior more times than I’d like to admit this past summer, I’d still like to kill him in moments like these.
“Isn’t Maryland coming in to scout Jacob Landers this year? Maybe if he gets accepted, we can be dorm buddies and make day trips to visit Kennedy together.” Dan’s laugh echoes through the building.
“Are you losing your goddamn mind? What does Jacob Landers have to do with Kennedy?” My eyes narrow.
“Jacob had his eye on Kennedy last year. He was at the party that night. He approached her and since you weren’t there, I had to shoo him off,” Dan discloses, handing me the bat.
“Jacob is a douche. Kennedy wouldn’t fall for his bullshit.” My grip on the bat is strong. I twist my hands against the metal, trying to subdue my anger.
“She fell for yours.” Dan’s eyebrow raises in challenge.
I swing the bat in his direction, inches away from whacking him on the head. “I’m charming.”
“The only thing you’ve ever charmed is a pair of pants off a girl.”
“Are you looking to get your ass kicked?” I shake my head in disbelief.
“You seriously can’t be this blind.” He grabs his water bottle, squirting some into his mouth.
I rest the bat on the ground. My palm leans against it for leverage. “I doubt Kennedy is the be-all, end-all for me.”
“Who said anything about Kennedy? I’m talking about your shitty batting skills.”
“No, you weren’t,” I growl. “I know exactly what you’re talking about.” I swing at the pitch and miss the first two. It’s the third pitch when I hit the sweet spot.
“One day you’re going to figure it out. I just hope it’s not too late for both of your sakes.”
“Okay, Dr. Romance. What makes you think that Kennedy and I are supposed to be together?”
Dan shakes his head. As he takes two large steps toward me, he throws his water bottle on the ground. “I’ve loved Violet since freshman year. I watched her from afar because I didn’t think I deserved someone as beautiful as her. Love isn’t hard, Graham. It’s easy to love someone.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. Love is hard.” I turn away from him.
“Was it easy to fall in love with Kennedy?” Dan always asks the right questions.
I spin to face Dan. “That’s different.”
“No, it’s not. I watch her with Mark. I can already tell he’s invested himself in her, and you’re sitting here, letting him take what’s always been yours. It’s up to the two of you to fight for it. How is it you two are the only ones who don’t see it?” Dan argues. His eyes harden as he gawks at me.
“Mark doesn’t see it.” I groan and roll my eyes.
“Yes, he does. He just doesn’t care because Kennedy’s the type of girl you fight for.” With that, Dan turns back to the pitching machine.
Kennedy’s the type of girl you fight for.
For the rest of practice, Dan drops the subject of Kennedy. That doesn’t mean she leaves my mind. That’s the problem. She never seems to leave my mind. I’ve managed to avoid her since the night on the dirt road, but with New Year’s Eve around the corner, it won’t be possible much longer. She won’t miss Dan’s party, and if the rumors are true, Mark will be by her side.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear.
Mark drops his bag outside of the cage, swings the door open, and leans against the fence with a smile on his lips. My eyes narrow at him.
Why are you smiling, asshole?
“You got plans tonight, Dan?” Mark shouts, as I put my bat in the bag.
“Nothing planned. What about you, Graham? You got any plans?” Dan’s gaze darts between Mark and me. There’s a pleased gleam in his eyes, as if he’s waiting for a fight to break out between us.
“Nope.” My voice sounds more contrived than I intend.
“Poker tonight, then.” Mark turns and addresses Dan, but his attention never shifts to me. He grabs his bag and flings it over his shoulder, and heads to where our cars are parked.
As I walk by Dan, I smack him on the back of the head.
His hand rubs the sore spot and glares at me.
“Why don’t you just tell him?” Dan tries diplomacy as a tactic.
“Tell him what, exactly? Tell him that I don’t want his hands all over Kennedy. That every time I see them together it makes me want to hit someone or run away without looking back. Is that what I’m supposed to say?” My hands punch the air, and I pace back and forth, focused on the ground in front of me. I stop and look up at him. “I walked out on her, Dan. I. Left. Her. Not the other way around. She has every right to find happiness wherever she wants, and if Mark is what makes her happy, then I need to let her be.”
Dan swings open the door to the cage with a shrug of his shoulder. He holds it open, and I walk through the opening with my own shoulders hung low in defeat.
“Get in,” Dan demands as he leers at me over the top of his truck.
I’m in no place to argue unless I want to have this conversation in the pouring rain, so I slide in and lean my head against the headrest.
“She’s happy, right?” I whisper. My eyes drift shut against the pain. It’s imperative that I know I made the right decision that night.
“She’s happy-ish,” Dan answers. The key turns in the ignition and the engine rumbles the bench seat. Heat radiates out of the vents. “She’s happy enough, but to know if she’s truly happy, you’d have to ask her yourself.”
“I can’t.” My head shakes in discouragement.
“Why not?”
“I can’t hear that she’s happy without me.” My head rolls on the headrest and my eyes open. He looks at me like I’ve grown an extra head. “What now, man?”
“What if she isn’t happy?” Dan counters. “I can understand and respect your choices from last year. You think you’re the catalyst for everything bad in her world, but that girl loves you. She loves you even when she hates you.”
I allow Dan’s words to sink in before I step out of the truck. My bag flies out of my hand, barely making it into my car. With my forearms leaning on the closed trunk, the rain runs over my body, and I accept it with open arms.