r a v e n
“Get your ass in the pool, Raven!” Emilio commands. “Or I’ll throw you in.”
“She doesn’t want to get her hair wet,” Tori informs. She’s lounging in a hot pink bikini, soakin’ up what’s left of the sun’s rays. Her newest addiction is tanning. The girl has no self-control. The second she starts looking like one of those idiots from Jersey Shore, I’m cutting her off.
I smile widely and look around, taking in the scene. I’m surrounded by amazing friends, fabulous weather—having the time of my life. Tori and I invited some people over to check out our brand new apartment. Eric and Emilio were sweet enough to haul all the boxes and furniture up, then we all hit the pool to cool down. It’s a day full of celebrations: Mia’s back for the summer, Tori and I both got accepted into UT in the fall, and today’s my eighteenth birthday.
And they say youth is wasted on the young.
Eric breaks the surface of the water next to my pool chair, slicks his blond hair back. He’s been working out like crazy with all the lawn care and landscaping jobs, and it shows. Water trickles down and falls off his body like a slow motion ad for Cool Water cologne. Utterly ridiculous. He’s filled out in all the right areas, leaving no trace of the teenager he once was.
“Anyone up for grilling tonight?” he looks around to gauge potential takers.
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Mia answers, slipping her sunglasses over her eyes and sitting down by the edge of the pool to dip her feet in the water.
“That’s the spirit.”
Eric swims over and grabs her by the waist. Before she can even process what’s happening, he launches her into the pool. She manages to scream before impact.
Emilio laughs hysterically.
Mia resurfaces and coughs up a mouthful of water. “Dammit, Eric!”
“Sorry, Strawberry. Couldn’t help myself. You got me all excited.”
She flips him off.
Ever since I introduced them a few years ago, they’ve developed the most twisted friendship. We’ve all become inseparable. The downside: Mia can relate to him in ways I can’t. They’re not into each other like that, but they’re extremely flirty. It’s annoying. To her credit, she has no idea how I feel about him.
“What about you, birthday girl?” Eric asks, tugging me out of my own head. He’s looking at me expectantly, waiting for my answer. Beneath the surface, he’s waiting for something else entirely.
“Grilling sounds good. Do y’all want to run to the store and pick up stuff while us girls start unpacking?”
“We can do that.” He turns to look at Emilio. “You ready, man? I’ll buy if you drive.”
“Deal.” Emilio hoists himself out of the pool.
Eric follows suit.
“Do you guys mind picking up some booze while you’re out?” Mia asks, floating weightlessly on her back.
He glances down at her. “You know, just for asking that question I’m going to pick you up some milk.”
“Make sure it’s chocolate.”
“I’ll make sure it’s whole,” he guarantees.
“Doubt it. You wouldn’t know wholesome if it sat on your face.”
“Wanna bet?” he says, looking like he might jump back in.
Mia splashes water at him and submerges herself before he has a chance to dive back in and tackle her. She swims to the edge, boosts herself up, wrings her long dark hair out, and flips it over her shoulder. Eric and Emilio grab towels and dry themselves off. I tear my eyes off Eric’s body and get a grip before I feel the need to jump in the pool and cool down too.
“Looks like I’m late to the party,” a familiar voice calls out, hosing down my hormones. Brandon closes the gate behind him and strides over carrying a gift. Once he reaches us, he bends down and plants a kiss on my cheek. “Happy Birthday, baby.”
He hands me the present. Does this make me a ho? Accepting a present from him knowing I have feelings for someone else? It certainly doesn’t feel right in my gut. But Brandon’s good for me. I couldn’t ask for a better guy. So why am I not feeling it? Where’s the disjoint? Why is this so confusing?
It’s becoming clear that this exchange is making everyone visibly uncomfortable. The tension is palpable. Eric’s staring at Brandon like he’s an imposter.
“Thank you, babe,” I say.
“What are you waiting for? Go ahead and open it.”
Not wanting to make this more awkward, I tear apart the wrapping paper. It’s a tiny black box holding a pair of silver, heart-shaped earrings inside. I swallow past the lump clogging my throat.
“They’re beautiful.”
Out of my periphery, I notice Eric tense up.
“Do you not like them?” Brandon asks, assessing my reaction.
“No, no. They’re perfect.” I kiss him square on the lips, hoping to dispel his suspicions.
He caresses my face and deepens the kiss, then pulls back. “I just want to make you happy. You know that, right?”
I swallow and nod. Eric and Emilio slip their shirts on and leave.
“Where’re they headed?” Brandon asks.
“To grab some food.”
“So...you already have dinner plans?”
“Yeah, the boys want to grill. But you’re welcome to stay.”
He forces a smile to appear. “I’d love to. Can I steal you away tomorrow night for a belated birthday dinner?”
“Sure. I already asked for the weekend off, so I’m in the clear.”
I hate myself for making another promise, but I can’t seem to find the right time or the courage to end this thing. Events and people keep getting in the way. And I refuse to break up with him on my birthday. I want to have fun with my friends, not break someone’s heart. On the flipside, he doesn’t deserve to be strung along, either.
“Can I see your apartment?” he asks.
“Yeah.” I stand up and grab my stuff. “We were just heading up to unpack.”
After I give Brandon the grand tour, we spend the next fifteen minutes rearranging furniture and unpacking boxes. My friends are my superheroes. They always come through. We divide and conquer, each tackling separate rooms. Plus, they’ve come up to help so that I’m not alone with Brandon—whether that was intentional or not, doesn’t even matter. They’re even awesome when they’re not trying. I’m in the kitchen putting away all the dishes when Eric and Emilio waltz through the front door.
“We humble servants come bearing gifts,” Eric announces, setting the grocery bags and beer on the countertop. He lets out a heavy breath and fishes his phone out of his pocket to respond to a text. Probably some girl he met in the booze aisle. I distract myself by unloading everything. Emilio disappears into the bathroom.
“I wouldn’t use humble or servant to describe you.”
He stops texting and looks up at me. “Well it certainly wouldn’t be used to describe you, either.”
I grab the brats and toss them at his chest. “Feed me.”
“Why should I?”
“Because I’m the birthday girl.”
He tosses the brats aside, checks the hall to make sure no one’s watching, then grips the edge of the counter and leans over so our faces are merely inches apart.
The playful vibe shifts.
As Mia would say, “Shit just got real.”
“Back up,” I order.
“You’re going to have to do better than that,” he says in a low voice.
My heart rate spikes.
“What are you doing? Brandon is right down the hall.” I try to keep my voice even, but my nerves are piqued. We’re not technically crossing any lines, but if someone walked in and saw us, we’d definitely be giving the wrong impression.
His gaze is steady, intense, hard, like he’s desperately trying to convey something. “As if that would stop me. He doesn’t make you happy.”
We’re sliding into dangerous territory.
“…And you know this how?”
“Because I neve
r see you look at him this way.”
“Like how?” I push.
His gaze drops to my mouth, then travels back up my face.
“Like you want me to defile you.”
Very dangerous territory.
I swallow thickly. The sexual tension that’s been boiling to the brim for years just spilled over. This is pure torture. I want nothing more than to give in—right here, right now. I want to grab his gorgeous face and kiss him so hard—make him forget about all those other nameless girls and leave a lasting impact. This is what Brandon and I are missing. Passion. Chemistry.
Just go for it, stupid.
I inch forward, part my lips, and let my gaze slip to his mouth. As I’m about to seal the deal, the toilet flushes, the bathroom door swings open, heavy footprints creep closer to the kitchen. I jump back several paces because nothing screams “innocent” like plenty of physical distance.
Emilio rounds the corner to the kitchen, stops mid-stride. His eyes dart back and forth between Eric and me. “Am I interrupting something?”
“Not at all,” Eric lies. He reaches for the brats, the bag of coals, and the lighter, then looks back at Emilio like nothing ever happened. “You ready?”
“Yeah, just give me a minute. I’ll bring the rest of the stuff down,” Emilio says, unsure of how to react.
Eric nods and glances in my direction, his lips pull up into a flirtatious smile. In a flash, he’s gone.
Emilio closes the distance between us. “What’s the matter with you, huh? Are you trying to get caught?”
“No. I’m trying to figure out what I want.”
“Then take the time to do that, but don’t play games.”
“I’m not.”
He grabs the tongs, a couple beers, and heads for the door.
“Emilio?”
He freezes, but doesn’t turn around.
“Please don’t say anything to Eric, or to Brand—”
He turns and stares. “You’re my sister. I’m on your side no matter what. But don’t be stupid.” And with that, he’s gone.
Silence fills the room. My elbows meet the counter with a light thud as I bury my head in my hands, exhaling my frustration. Why is this so complicated? Must I have to be the one to hurt Brandon? Isn’t he sick of me yet?
Ugh, FML!
An incoming text yanks me out of my momentary slump. I reach for my phone, secretly hoping it’s Eric.
Tori: Boy problems?
How’d she know that?
The floor creaks and my head snaps up. I find Tori standing near the edge of the hallway, watching my live freak out like it’s a Broadway show. I zip around the counter, grab her by the hand, and drag her out to the balcony. Once we’re outside and out of earshot, I take a deep breath and tell her, “We have a problem.”
“Spill.”
“It’s Emilio; he caught us.”
“Caught who? You and Eric?”
I nod.
“Doing what, exactly?”
“Nothing like that. Well, kinda. I don’t know. We were in the kitchen talking—”
“And by talking you mean flirting,” she interjects.
“Right. One minute everything was fine, and then the next he got up close and personal. I can’t think straight when he does that.” By this point, I’m pacing.
“And then I thought to myself, ‘Gee, he might make a stellar boyfriend. He understands me better than anyone, he puts up with my antics, knows exactly what to say to make me laugh, and most importantly, he lets me rewind all my favorite parts as many times as I want during Thursday Movie Nights.’”
“That’s important?”
“Extremely. Not many people have the patience. It’s the small things. I want him, Tori. God, I want him like crazy. But is he the right choice? I don’t want to give up a guy who treats me well for one who doesn’t. Eric loves being single. Can he handle a committed relationship? Is he capable of being a loyal boyfriend? These are the thoughts that plague my mind. If one of us makes a move and it doesn’t turn out the way we planned, we’ll lose everything. He’s seen me at my best and loved me at my worst. We accept each other exactly for who we are, flaws and all. Dating him changes those dynamics. Why put my heart out on the line and risk it all for something that’s potentially less transparent and authentic than what I already have?”
“I get that, but where does Emilio come in during all this?”
“He walked in on us when we were seconds away from kissing.”
“Oh, shit.”
I stop pacing and plant my hands on my hips. “Yeah.”
“Personally, I think you need to cut the cord with Brandon and be done with it. Then take some space and see how you feel about the whole Eric situation. Maybe you’ll have a better grasp on what you want. You can always try talking to Mia, too,” she suggests.
“No way. I don’t want her caught in the middle. She’s just as close to Eric as I am. I’m not putting her in the position where she’s forced to take sides. As soon as I figure everything out, I’ll fill her in. Until then, she needs to remain blissfully unaware and neutral. Switzerland.”
“Speaking of Mia,” Tori clears her throat.
I spin around. The door to the balcony opens up and Mia pokes her head out, her hazel eyes analyzing the situation. She slips her body through and closes the door. “What are you ho-bags doing out here?”
“Figuring out the best way for Raven to break up with Brandon,” Tori covers.
The surprise on Mia’s face is quickly replaced by sympathy. “Oh, no. What happened?”
“I can’t do it anymore, Mia. He doesn’t make me feel anything out of the ordinary. There’s no rush of emotion. No excitement. The relationship should be fresh and fun. I shouldn’t have to try and force a connection with him, or convince myself he’s the right choice. If he were, I’d feel it. And if we don’t have it by now, we’re not gonna get it. God, I suck. He’s mapping out our future, and I’m mapping out our end.”
“You’re not feelin’ it. There’s nothing wrong with that. At the end of the day, all that matters is whether or not you’re happy with the relationship. Clearly you’re not, so he’s gotta go,” Mia answers, sliding her hand across her throat to represent Brandon’s demise.
Tori points to Mia. “What she said.”
“But what should I say to him?”
“Just tell him the truth and try to let him down easy,” Mia suggests.
I take a deep breath and brace myself. I can’t deal with this awful feeling anymore. Forget what I said earlier about not wanting to break his heart on my birthday. I have no choice. The longer I wait, the worse this will become. And I can’t bear the thought of having the word cheater plastered onto my guilty conscience. I can barely tolerate heartbreaker, but at least by sparing him more pain, hopefully he’ll be able to forgive me for what I’m about to do.
I walk into my room to find Brandon unpacking boxes and categorizing my stuff, because he knows that’s how I like it. Wish he would stop being so great for once. It would make my job easier. “Hey, can we talk outside for a minute?” I ask timidly, leaning my hip against the dresser. My confidence is nowhere to be found.
“Sure. What’s up?”
I motion my head toward the front door, urging him to follow. As soon as we hit the hallway, my friends scatter like roaches and pretend to be busy doing something moderately important. Brandon’s used to their weird behavior at this point. He opens the front door and ushers me out—a true gentleman until the end.
Once we make it down to the parking lot, I suggest going to his car for some privacy. Getting dumped sucks. No need to throw salt on the wound by allowing bystanders to witness it.
Once we climb inside, he asks, “What’s going on?” There’s an edge of nervousness to his voice.
Be brave and honest. Be brave and honest, I chant in my head.
“Tell me something you can’t stand about me.”
My request catches him off guard. He shifts around i
n his seat, clearly uncomfortable. “Uh...is this some kind of test?”
I adjust my body so I’m facing him. “No, it’s not. Tell me something about my personality that drives you crazy.”
His response is so instantaneous you’d think it was queued up. “Not a thing. You’re perfect.”
Liar!
He grasps my chin and strokes the side of my cheek with his thumb. I close my eyes and relish the feeling one last time. I’m about to break his heart, and he’s the one comforting me. How messed up is that?
I reopen my eyes and use them to summon the truth out of him. “Be honest.”
I can’t explain why, but I need this. Maybe it’s to make myself feel better for what’s about to happen. Maybe it’s because I deserve to suffer. Or maybe it’s because deep down I’m searching for something more, something real.
He releases my chin and rests one hand on top of the steering wheel and stares out the windshield, lost in thought. While his gaze is fixated on something else, mine is still fixated solely on him. Several beats pass. Finally, he looks over. There’s a sadness in his eyes that wasn’t there before.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Trying to pick a fight with me on your birthday.”
“I’m not. I’m trying to get you to tell the truth.”
“By hurting you,” he says, confused.
I look down and fumble around with the hem of my shorts, searching for the right words. There aren’t any. There’s nothing I can say or do to make this easier.
“Look, Brandon, you are by far one of the sweetest guys I’ve ever known—”
“But…” he presses, starting to see where this is going.
“And you’ve been so good to me.” I let that one linger. I never want him to think things could’ve turned out differently had he treated me better. The reality is, I couldn’t have asked for a more thoughtful, attentive boyfriend. It just wasn’t in the cards for us. That’s nobody’s fault. Although, it sure feels like mine right now.
“Spit it out, Raven.”
I flinch at his harsh tone. A lone tear escapes and falls down my cheek. I wipe it away with the back of my hand. When I finally work up the courage to look him straight in the eyes again, I crumble. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t hate me.”
Catching Raven Page 4