by Dani Hart
Ben, catching me the way he had, wasn’t sitting right with me either. I had never officially met Ben or his twin, Zoe. I only knew them in passing, so for Ben to do that was just odd to me. I wasn’t even sure he knew Wes and I were friends.
The chirping of birds through my open window woke me. It felt as if only moments had passed since I closed my eyes. My body ached, my head was still pounding, and sleep remained heavy in my eyes.
“Abigail, if you don’t get ready soon, you’ll be late for school,” my mom called cheerfully through the door. I grumbled as I rolled out of bed, landing hard and loud.
The door flew open, and my mom rushed to my side.
“Abigail, what’s wrong?” She put her hand on my forehead and then on the back of my neck. Her hands felt like ice cubes on my skin.
“Abigail, you’re burning up.”
“I’m fine, Mom.”
“No, you’re not. Get back into bed. You’re staying home. I’ll go get some medicine for your fever.”
When she was out of sight, I went into the bathroom, tied my hair up into a knot, and splashed water onto my face. My skin did feel hot. I stared at my face in the mirror, beads of water dripping down, last night’s encounter returning vividly.
Do you feel safe? A prickly sensation crawled around inside me, panic consuming me and chipping away at my grip on reality.
“Abigail?”
“I was just using the bathroom.” I went back into my room and slid back under the sheets. I swallowed the pills my mom handed me.
“Do you need anything?” she asked.
“No. Just some more sleep.”
She tucked the sheets in around me. “Okay. I’ll check on you in a bit.” She kept the door cracked.
I turned over and stared out the window, still trying to understand Elijah’s cryptic message about my safety. For all I knew, he was the danger and it was becoming increasingly evident that Elijah was following me, but why?
I stayed in bed for most of the day, listening to my parents come and go as they checked on me several times.
By evening, I was bored out of mind, having finished the English paper that was due tomorrow and trudging through a very, very, very long history chapter.
“Hey, honey. How are you feeling?” My mom checked on me again.
“I’m feeling better. I should be fine to go to school tomorrow,” I said, giving her my best award-winning smile to reassure her.
“If you think so.” Her voice quivered a bit.
“I’m sure.” I stood up and walked to my desk for her benefit, showcasing my sturdy legs.
“Your father and I were going to get a bite to eat. Can I bring you something back?”
She brushed a long golden strand behind her ear. My chestnut locks were courtesy of my dad’s genes, and my copper eyes and long lashes came from my mom.
“That would be great. Maybe some chicken noodle soup?”
“Your favorite. We’ll be home in about an hour or so.”
I watched my parents drive away and then rushed downstairs to jump on my dad’s computer. I had been begging for one of my own, but considering I didn’t even have a cell phone, it was highly unlikely it would happen before I left for college. I gave up on the cell phone battle rather easily, only having one friend anyway.
Why do you need a cell phone, Peanut?
Peanut was the nickname betrothed on me after I had an allergic reaction to peanuts in preschool. That was a fun day. Now my dad used it as a term of endearment, although how you could make light of a traumatizing day was beyond me.
The computer was already on, so I opened the search engine to search Elijah Winters. Typing his name came easy enough, but pressing the Search button was a whole different story. I didn’t know what I expected to find, but shaky hands and erratic heartbeats accompanied my fleeting moment of courage as my finger pressed Enter on the keyboard. My cowardly eyes closed tightly. I counted ten beats of my heart before I peeked one eye open to brave the words on the screen.
Elijah Winters’ profiles.
Elijah Winters’ photos, phone, email, address.
I clicked on a link, and his address in Bayview popped up with a picture of him in front of his house. There wasn’t much else. The fact that I found anything about him at all was a miracle. I guess being rich made him a somebody.
The doorbell chimed, so I closed the tab and ran to answer it. A Sandpoint Bistro takeout bag stared me in the face, held by the dainty-pink polished fingers of my best and only friend.
“You shouldn’t have,” I teased as I took the bag from her and stepped aside.
“I didn’t. It was on your front porch, and it’s still warm. How are you feeling?”
She jumped onto the couch, making herself comfortable under the throw blanket. Meanwhile, I was still ten seconds in the past, trying to make sense of the bistro bag that smelled suspiciously like chicken noodle soup.
“It’s a takeout bag, Abby, not a boa constrictor.” She giggled.
“I didn’t order anything.” I was holding the bag with my fingertips as far away from myself as possible.
“Is there a name on it?” She flipped on the television and browsed through the channels.
I carried the bag into the kitchen, setting it on the table, unable to take my eyes off of it. There was no way that the contents of this bag could possibly contain chicken noodle soup.
I unfolded the white paper bag and lifted out the container that the bistro packaged soup in. The smell of my favorite soup wafted up to my nose. I peeled off the lid and confirmed that the carrots, celery, chicken, and spiral noodles comprised my favorite chicken noodle soup. My hands were shaky as I put the lid back on that soup, unbelieving that this could be a mere coincidence. Pulling the bag over to put the container back in, I noticed a piece of paper at the bottom. The obvious giver would be Wes, but a part of me was afraid it would be Elijah’s name scrolled on it. I unfolded it carefully.
Chicken soup will always soothe the soul. Wes
I let out a huge sigh of relief, although it was still strange.
“What are you doing in there?” Kendra yelled over the television.
I took out two bowls from the cabinet and two spoons and divided the soup.
Kendra was enamored with a reality show when I placed the soup down on the coffee table.
“Sweet! I love their soup. Thanks, Abby.”
I handed her the note.
She read it, smiling big enough to scream. “Abby, do you know what this means?”
No, I didn’t.
“Don’t read so much into it. It’s just soup.” I sat on the floor in front of the coffee table.
“Your favorite soup.” She slid off the couch next to me.
I still remembered the first time Wes brought me soup.
“You look awful, Abby.”
Wes stood above me as I lay on the couch with a blanket over me. I came home early from school. My sixth grade teacher was convinced I was faking until I threw up on her shoes.
“I brought you your favorite.” Wes held up a takeout bag from his dad’s bistro.
I started seeing Wes differently that summer. He always fascinated me with his grace, the smoothness of his voice, and the intensity behind his eyes. But now I saw him. His auburn hair just long enough to fall over his eyebrows when he laughed, the long lashes that protected his iridescent eyes, the way one side of his mouth curled up when he shared a mischievous thought, and the one thing that affected me the most was how my body came alive whenever he was around. I anticipated the slightest graze when we walked side by side. I knew I was infatuated with him the first day I met him on the swings, but now I was sure I was in love with him and always would be. Wes’ absence from my life took a toll on me, and now that he was back, old feelings were resurfacing and I was finding it harder and harder to breathe.
“Abby, are you going to finish that?” Kendra pointed to my half-full bowl of soup. “This place seriously has the best food.”
<
br /> I barely watched the movie Kendra had picked. I didn’t even know the name of it. I was too wrapped up with all things Wes that I couldn’t think about anything else. At some point, Wes and I were going to have to talk. And not just with broken words and short sentences. No, what we needed were paragraphs. And a lot of them.
“SEATTLE?” KENDRA SLAMMED her locker closed. “That is it. I am staging another intervention. You have been acting so weird ever since Wes came back. Why would you go to Seattle? You need to start talking.”
We were headed to the front office for our elective class. She used her power of persuasion and talked the guidance counselor into assigning it to both of us for sixth period.
“And what’s with the jacket?”
I hugged my arms around the chocolate leather bomber jacket that my grandpa gave me for my twelfth birthday. He died soon after. It was one of the worst days of my life. We were super close. Closer than my dad and me. I found it hanging in the back of my closet this morning. I used to wear it every day, but I was too small for it, so my mom put it away. It had been years since I wore it. His scent still lingered in between the cracked leather, and it was decorated in war patches, a tribute to his service.
My parents kept his house in Seattle, but it was over five hours away. Getting away from Sandpoint sounded amazing, but there was no way my parents would let me go. There was a train station in the center of town, and I had a little money saved up from babysitting jobs over the summer and my tips from the bistro, so as long as Kendra covered for me I could make it work. It was a crazy idea, but whenever I felt overwhelmed, my grandpa was the one person who could make me feel better. Being in his house again, surrounded by his things, might be just what I needed.
“It was my grandfather’s. So, will you cover for me this weekend?” I was looking down at my red Chucks when Kendra grabbed my arm and held me back.
“Ow,” I hissed, peering up.
Wes walked through the front door, the backlight illuminating a halo around his frame, and the world froze as it always did when he was around. He raked his hand through his hair, a knowing smile lighting up his eyes when they met mine. He ducked into the office.
“You can start by telling me the truth about you and him,” Kendra demanded, looking to where Wes was standing a moment ago. “I’ve heard the gossip, but I want to hear it from you. What happened?”
“Nothing,” I lied.
“Have you even talked to him?”
We stood in the hall just outside the office.
“Only if you count hi and bye.” He had said a few more things than that, but I didn’t feel like elaborating.
His voice drifted into the hallway. “Thank you, Mrs. McCarthy.”
I grabbed Kendra’s arm and dragged her behind a row of lockers. The nervous energy filled every cell in my body as footsteps echoed in the hallway and then paused. Both of us held our breath. When the door opened and closed, we both let out a sigh of relief. I peeked around the corner to verify he had left.
“He’s gone.” I stepped out from our hiding spot.
Kendra smacked my arm. “That hurt.”
My nails had dug into her skin, leaving a row of crescent indentations.
“I’m sorry.” I frowned apologetically.
“You can’t avoid him for long.”
No, I couldn’t. And really, I didn’t want to. The idea that he was staying away from me was unexplainable and hurt like hell.
I MISSED MY SHIFT at the bistro yesterday due to my illness, but I was back to work tonight. Thursday evenings, the bistro had karaoke, which meant for a busy night. After Wes’ bold attempt at communication, trepidation covered me like a winter coat.
“Aren’t you sweating?” Penelope snickered as she raced away from the front desk with a handful of silverware.
She talks. I was beginning to think she was mute. I stripped two of the layers I was wearing courtesy of the brisk evening.
Once I scanned the restaurant for Wes, satisfied he wasn’t around, I stuffed my bag under the front desk and checked my table assignments. I had the front section, farthest away from the stage. I would have to thank Mr. Hunter for that later. I’d been here for karaoke, and aside from the terrible voices that blared through the microphone, the groups seemed to be rowdier closer to the stage.
By the end of the night, I was only wearing a tank top, and I was still sweating. Penelope smirked knowingly from across the room. She either hated me or, frankly, was just socially inept. Maybe it was the blue hair.
When it was my turn to take a break, the crisp night air was beckoning to cool my sticky skin. Slipping out back, I was relieved when the air kissed every exposed part of my body. I closed my eyes, indulging in the noise-free environment, even hearing the lapping of the water just across the pier. The back patio overlooked the lake.
“Did you get the soup?” Wes’ voice encircled me, catching my breath in my chest. He was only a foot away from me, his eyes glowing under the soft patio lights. Words escaped me, and my lungs ceased to function. Even my knees weakened. In seconds, I had transformed into a pathetic teenage girl hopelessly in love.
He dipped his head slowly, his eyes peering up, inviting me into his enchanting world, the upturn of his lips teasing me.
“I—How did you know?” A familiar comfort floated between us.
He took a step closer and sank his head in the space between my ear and my shoulder, grazing his lips back and forth, taking in a deep breath. Dizziness swirled around me, my mouth falling open as I took in labored breaths, my hands planted to the wall for support.
“I know everything about you, Abigail Rose,” he whispered into my ear as his lips traveled up my neck, his warm breath leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. “I know your favorite soup.” His nose explored my hair. “I know what shampoo you use.”
I was losing myself in him, the will to stay still collapsing.
He continued, “I know that you tie your hair up when you are uncomfortable.” One of his hands planted on the wall next to my head, the other glided through my hair, wrapping around locks and tugging lightly. A soft murmur escaped my mouth as his mouth explored my jawline. “I know what I feel when I’m around you.”
With that, my paralyzed limbs awoke and my fingers twisted in his hair. His hands cradled my face, pulling my lips to his.
“Wes.” A harsh demand reached us from the shadows, pulling us apart. Ben stepped into the light, glaring at his brother, his eyes vicious and his body rigid.
Wes turned to me, regret confronting me for just a moment before he left in the opposite direction of his older sibling. Ben focused his fury on me then, causing me to stumble back into the bistro.
Finishing my shift proved difficult, my thoughts racing between Wes’ confession and Ben’s obvious and inexplicable rage. My life was quickly spinning out of control, and I wasn’t in the driver’s seat anymore. I felt Mr. Hunter’s eyes on me as I grabbed my bag and ran out to my car where my dad was waiting. He hopped out, taking the passenger seat position. I was surprised when we arrived home. I was on autopilot these days.
“I think you’re ready for your test Monday. How do you feel?”
I killed the engine and looked down at the steering wheel, avoiding eye contact.
“Good,” I replied with a small smile. How could I concentrate on such mundane things when suddenly I was surrounded by chaos?
“I’m going to miss driving around with you,” he confessed and then jumped out of the Jeep. “You coming?”
“Yeah, in a minute.”
He looked at me oddly. “Okay.”
He shut the door and went inside. I flipped on my iPod playlist and leaned my seat back, closing my eyes, visions of Wes so close to me vividly replaying in my mind. Suddenly, an overwhelming sensation of being watched came over me.
I shot up quickly, startled by Wes standing outside the passenger door. Unforgiving tension passed between us as the seconds turned into minutes until time no longer ex
isted. The storm that had rolled in during my shift had exchanged a light drizzle for an unexpected downpour, soaking Wes, who stood unfazed, studying me.
The click of the handle sent my heart racing for cover as he slid in, the water rolling off his body and settling into the leather. The cold followed him inside, but as I was reaching to turn the engine on, Wes placed his hand around mine, stopping me, the soft touch reminding me of so many times his hand had touched mine. I sucked in a shallow breath, closing my eyes as the water from his hand dripped onto mine. Only when he pulled it away did I look over, meeting his pained expression.
“What?” I asked quietly.
He twisted his hands tightly on his lap.
“My father told me to stay away from you, but I don’t know how to do this.” His knuckles turned white as he squeezed them tighter together.
“Do what?” My voice was shaky now.
He shook his head slowly. “Be around you without...” He lifted his head, untangling his hands, and leaned into me. His finger hooked under my chin, holding my gaze to his. I was under his spell once again, entranced by his beauty.
“Without what?” I asked breathlessly.
His eyes reached out and took hold of my soul, absolving pain’s past. Then without warning, he dropped his hand and sat back in his seat, securing his hands together once again.
Tears welled in my eyes, the familiar disappointment lingering. “You can’t keep doing this to me.” My words broke as I choked back humiliation.
“I know,” he said regretfully.
“Then, why?” I was begging for answers, pleading for closure before my broken heart was irreparable.
“Because I don’t know how to live without you either.” He gritted his teeth, the truth setting him free, but also defeating him.