He brushes his thumb back and forth on my arm. The motion is meant to calm, and it does its trick. It’s sweet, comforting…brotherly, which is what I need right now.
I pull my knees back to my chest. “He didn’t rape me.” My voice comes out strangled.
His thumb continues its motion, and we sit in silence for a while.
“But he did try.” Tears threaten at the backs of my eyes. I struggle to keep them down because I really don’t want to cry. I don’t think I have the energy for the whole production at this point, and I’m not sure I’m comfortable enough with him for something like that just yet.
Landon slides his arm around my back and pulls me toward him, another brotherly move. It’s safe here with him. I don’t know how I know that, but I do. I take a deep inhale, breathing in his salty scent, and allow myself to relax into him.
“He had no right to you,” he finally says.
The enormity of the words fills my chest, breaking open the dam for my tears to flow. He had no right. I want to believe those words so much. I want to live by them…be outraged by them. But I don’t know if they’re true.
“I’m not sure…how it works,” I find the courage to say.
He pulls away from me. “What?”
I take a shaky breath as I prepare to come clean. “I don’t…know…” I gather my courage, fueled by the remnants of the evening. “I got in the car with him.”
“Okay,” he says with a wary gaze.
“I shouldn’t have done that.”
He turns his body toward mine, his eyes narrowed. “What are you saying? That since you got in the car with him he had the right to rape you?”
I clench my eyes shut as a chill runs through me at the vile word. “No. But, I knew I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t know him. I mean, we went to school together, but I didn’t know…”
“That he was a rapist?”
I pull my knees tighter to me. “Quit saying that. He didn’t rape me.”
He reaches for my knee. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be a dick. It’s just that you have no idea how pissed I am about this.”
I let out a hard breath and meet his gaze, wiping my eyes. He looks pissed…real pissed. His face is flushed red, and a glimmer of something like determination shines in his blue eyes.
He’s pissed on my behalf. Outraged it seems, even after I admitted to being part of the problem by getting in the car. The idea of this comforts me in ways he can’t possibly imagine. He looks past me and leans around me to grab a box of tissues from the end table. He offers me the box.
I grab a couple. “Thank you.”
He rests his arm on the back of the couch. “Look, Chloe. I don’t know what your experience level is, but I just want to make sure you know you don’t owe any asshole any part of you. I don’t care if you got in his car or his bed.”
Heat explodes in my belly at his words, shooting through my chest and threatening to close my throat. His words leave me vulnerable and powerful all at once.
I look away from him, playing with the tissue in my hand. “I’m not sure all guys agree with you. I think I’d be a huge tease if I got in some guy’s bed and then said no.”
“It’s still your right. Look, if some prick is so weak he can’t control himself and walk away, what does that say about him?”
I consider him, realizing something for the first time. “So stopping in the middle of…stuff…that’s a power thing for you.”
“Yeah. Hell yeah. It’s about controlling yourself. Sure, all guys want to get off…all the damn time, myself included.”
My hand goes instinctively to my forehead, covering the side of my face while I try to control my smile.
“But what a fucking loser to get worked up and force himself on someone else because he’s too much of a weakling to control his own goddamned body. Pathetic.” He points at the television. “Look at Rosa. Do you think she would have allowed some douche to make her feel like she owed him something because she got in his goddamned car?”
A picture of Rosa holding a number over her chest during the booking from her arrest shows on the screen. Rosa probably would have kicked Trevor in the nuts and then pushed him in the lake while he was doubled over.
“So this guy’s from your hometown?” he asks.
“Yeah. He’s leaving for college in August though. He’s playing basketball somewhere in South Carolina.”
“Good.” He nudges me in the leg. “So what’s next on your list?”
I run my fingers through my hair. “I don’t know.”
He grins. “Maybe I could help you with one.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Oh yeah? Which one?”
“The self-defense class. I’ll go with you.”
I’m not sure how I feel about this…what it will involve and if I’ll be glad he’s there with me or wish he wasn’t there to see me make a fool of myself. But I appreciate his interest, brotherly or otherwise.
“Do you know of one?” I ask, buying some time.
“I imagine I could find one pretty easily.”
I stiffen at the idea, but to put him off would be lame on my part…weak. And the last thing I want is for him to see me as weak after this conversation.
“Okay,” I say.
“Cool.”
He relaxes back on the couch, directing his attention to Rosa, and I do the same, but I’m all too aware of him sitting close to me, his breathing…his skin…his masculinity. He’s got this way of giving me the comfort of a brother and the belly flutters of a guy all in one package. I adjust the couch pillow and tilt my body onto it, curling into a ball.
“Here,” he says, pulling the blanket from the back of the couch.
I take it. “Thanks.”
I pull it on top of me, and he pulls the other side over on his lap. My eyes lay heavy as my body fills with an easiness and sense of security I haven’t experienced since before the night on the pontoon boat.
Landon
Sunlight knocks at my closed eyes, threatening to pry them open. I’m warm and comfortable, but I’m on my side and my back is being held up by a cushion, so I’m guessing I’m on the couch.
The warmth is peeled off of me, and I open my eyes to find Chloe climbing off of me. A flush of a toilet upstairs followed by footsteps has her off the couch in a second flat.
“We fell asleep. Someone’s up,” she whispers.
I sit up on the couch, and my gaze is drawn to my lap where, of course, my morning wood stands straight up at attention. Jesus Christ. After all that talk last night, and look at me.
Her attention turns to my lap.
I pull a throw pillow off the floor and cover it. “Sorry.”
She covers her mouth and giggles, giving me huge relief that she can laugh about it.
I point at her with a smile. “Shut up.”
She grins. “I thought you were Mr. In Control.”
“I was freaking asleep…with a beautiful girl plastered against me. I said I was in control, not a robot.”
The footsteps make their way to the stairs, and we both glance around. I point to the door around the corner. “Bathroom,” I whisper.
She tiptoes to the bathroom, and seconds later Jenna comes around the corner. She sits down on the couch, her eyes all sleepy and half-closed. She looks at the television, and then collapses, her head landing on the throw pillow on my lap.
“Where’s Chloe?” she asks.
“In the bathroom.”
Another set of footsteps pounds down the stairs, and my mom says, “Morning.”
“Morning,” Jenna says, and snuggles into my lap like a kitten curling up with its daddy…like this is the most normal thing in the world. It doesn’t even feel sexual at all, other than the fact that I’m sporting a woody underneath her head.
Chloe come
s in the room and glances down at Jenna, and then to me. She covers her mouth, trying to stifle a laugh.
“How long have you been up?” Jenna asks without dragging her gaze from the television.
“Not long,” Chloe says.
“Why are you watching an infomercial on this food saver thing?” she asks.
Chloe looks at me.
“Nothing else on,” I say.
“Chloe, will you make me some oatmeal?” Jenna whines.
Chloe makes her way to the kitchen.
“Move, I gotta pee,” I say to Jenna.
She lifts up, and I roll off the couch away from her, strategically. I head upstairs.
I’m dressing for work when there’s a knock on my door. “Just a minute.”
I open the door, and my mom waits for me. I push the door open farther and head over to the dresser to gather my wallet, keys, and phone.
She sits on the edge of my bed. “So, how was karaoke last night?”
“Good.”
“Well, tell me about it.”
“Chloe killed it, and Jenna got flocked by fans.”
My mom lifts her chin. “Really? Wow. I knew she had been on that show, but I didn’t realize she was famous.”
“Apparently.” I snicker. “She trended last night.”
My mom gives an impressed nod. “Sounds pretty major.”
I pocket my phone and turn to face her. “I’ve got to go to work.”
“I know, but you’ve got a minute.”
I rest against my desk, giving my eye a scratch. I have a feeling why she’s in here, and I’m really not in the mood to hear it.
She lowers her chin. “I saw the way Jenna was laying in your lap this morning.”
“Mom, please. That’s just the way she is. I swear I haven’t touched her.”
She gives me a disapproving frown. “Could have fooled me.”
“You know that’s how she is. I saw her hanging on you the other day. She’s all touchy feely.”
She peers at me over her nose with a little concession. “I know, but it’s different with me. I’m a mother type to her. You’re a very handsome boy her age.”
I roll my eyes. “Every mom thinks her son is handsome.”
She walks to me and messes with my collar. “Yes, but every mom is not correct. I am.”
I glare at her.
“Please don’t do anything stupid,” she says.
“This is getting insulting,” I say, but she has every right to be suspicious…just not about Jenna. My hands are getting sweaty under her scrutiny. “Aren’t you supposed to be shopping for wedding stuff today or something?”
She turns and plops down on the bed. “I’m waiting for Derrick to get off the phone. He’s been talking to Karen again.”
“About what happened with Chloe?”
“Yeah, I think so.” She clenches her fists. “I just wish I could help somehow.”
“You said something to her yesterday, didn’t you?”
“I offered to talk to her, but she didn’t want to, which was fine. I just wanted her to know I was here for her.”
I pick up my shoes and slide them on. “What about Derrick?”
“What about him?”
“Do you think he wants to spend any time with her? She’s been here a week, and he’s barely said two words to her.”
She leans back on her hands. “You know how he is.”
She’s made excuses for his anti-social behavior since they first got together, but this is different, and it’s really starting to piss me off.
“Yes,” I say, “and I know his daughter is hurting.”
She sighs. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Thank you.”
She pats the bed for me to sit next to her. I do, and she wraps her arm around my back. “Do you have to live in the dorm? Why can’t you just stay here and commute?”
I know she’s just being a mom, but I need her to quit treating me like a five-year-old. “We’ve talked about this. It’s an hour drive.”
“You’re going to have to come back to work with Monica anyway.”
“Like once or twice a week. I’ll come home for dinner…and laundry.”
She gets that stressed out look on her face. “I just worry about the whole time thing. A great way to get on a professor’s bad side is to show up habitually late for her class.”
I don’t have time to start an argument with her right now, and I’m having too good a start to my morning to do so anyway. So I show her my phone. “I’m not going to be late. That’s what the alarm function on this thing is for.”
“I know. I’m just afraid you’ll get sick of setting it, then you’ll always be late.”
I let out a frustrated breath. “Mom, you’ve got to let go. I’ve got to figure out how to live with this on my own. If I forget to set it and lose track of time, I’ll start setting it again or figure out a new strategy.” I give her a little smile. “I’m great with consequences.”
She closes her eyes, and then opens them. She considers me, patting me on the back. I know she cares, but she has no idea how she reduces me to shit with that helpless look of pity.
She drops her hands on her legs. “You’re right. I’ve got to let go.”
We’ll have this fight again in a week or two weeks. But I’m thankful for the temporary reprieve. And I’m thankful for her.
I turn to her. “Thanks, Mom.”
She frowns. “For what?”
I don’t answer her. She knows for what. I’m one of the lucky ones. Some of the kids in my support group don’t have parents who care. They tell them they need to apply themselves more, or that they think they’re being lazy. Some kids can’t afford to get tested, and their parents don’t believe learning disabilities are a thing. One kid in our group even attempted suicide. So many people don’t get it…including my own dad. But my mom does, and for that, I’m thankful.
I stand. “I need to get to work.”
She stands, too. “Have you seen Monica much this week?”
“Yes, but on a strictly professional basis. Speaking of that, I need her check. I’ll drop it off.”
“I’ll leave it on the kitchen countertop.”
A text pops up on my phone. As if she was listening in, it’s Monica.
You need a break from work and studying. Meet us on the beach. We’re right off the Longneck Eel.
Another text pops up. A chest up selfie of her on the beach, sporting a tan bikini. It’s hard to tell where her bikini starts and her skin stops.
She’s holding a wide open net just waiting for me to fall into it. But she’s not what I want. I try to imagine myself waking up with her on top of me, but my mind refuses to remove Chloe from that image and insert Monica. I can have Monica. I can’t have Chloe. Even I can process logic that simple. But my brain refuses to solve the problem. What else is new.
Chapter Twenty-One
Chloe
Jenna, Cynthia, and I file in the door from our all-freaking-day shopping trip. To show for it, I have a purple bridesmaid dress, a French manicure which makes me look like a real housewife from somewhere, and a black bikini for the list, which was the theme for the day.
Jenna told Cynthia about the list—the karaoke, the girls last night, the tasks still in need of completing. Cynthia has grasped onto all of it like the last television at a Walmart Black Friday sale.
I’m helping her unload cartons of Chinese food when my dad makes his way to the kitchen.
“You girls have a good day?” he asks, pulling plates out of the cabinet.
Cynthia grabs his shoulder. “Just wait till you see your daughter in her bridesmaid dress. She is going to be stunning.” She anchors both her hands to her hips. “I don’t know what I was thinking. She’s going to get all the attention.” S
he beams at me.
I smile back, trying my best to make it look sincere. She’s been like this all day. It’s like she’s single-handedly taken on the task of my confidence building.
“And we got her a new bathing suit,” Cynthia says, and then holds up two fingers to Jenna and me, her not so subtle way of noting the number two task on the list.
My dad either doesn’t see or pretends not to as he sets plates out. “I’m going to make us a salad to go with this. Give me just a minute.”
I take the opportunity to go out to the patio and decompress for a second. I pull my knees up on the chair and hug them to my chest. A group of guys play football on some common ground nearby. I squint and finally think I make out Landon’s frame.
The sliding door opens, and I cringe before turning around. It’s Jenna giving me a half-hearted smile.
I let out a relieved breath.
She sits next to me. “That was…”
“Yeah,” I say. “You didn’t have to tell her about the list, you know.”
Jenna cringes. “I really do think she has good intentions.”
I nod. “I know. I just wish she didn’t try so hard.”
“You know, this is tough for her, too. You’re her competition.”
I turn my head to her slowly. “What?”
“Not like that. Duh. I mean, for your dad’s attention.”
I laugh. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m not even in the running there.”
Jenna scrunches up her face. “I don’t think anyone is, to be honest. He keeps so much to himself.”
“Ya think?”
She narrows her gaze. “How are you doing?”
I pick at the fabric of the chair. “Fine.”
“I’m serious,” she says. “With all of this. Your dad getting remarried…the whole other mess.”
Images of the night at the pontoon boat flash through my brain again. Trevor handling me like a bag of potatoes, pulling and tugging at my jeans, grabbing at my boobs. Will they ever stop? I wipe a tear away with the back of my hand as my throat closes in on me. “I just feel so ridiculous about it all. I liked him. We spent two years giggling and texting about him, about what his…”
The Summer Before Forever Page 11