Hopeless

by Hoover, Colleen

  My eyes flick open, but I don’t move. It’s still dark and I’m still in the same position I was in earlier, so I know I just fell asleep. I silence my breaths and listen for the same sound that pulled me out of my sleep—the sound of my window sliding open.

  I can hear the curtains scraping against the rod and someone climbing inside. I know I should scream, or run for my door, or look around for some sort of object that can be used as a weapon. Instead, I remain frozen because whoever it is isn’t trying to be at all quiet about the fact that they’re climbing into my room, so I can only assume it’s Holder. But still, my heart is racing and every muscle in my body stiffens when the bed shifts as he lowers himself onto it. The closer he gets, the more certain I am that it’s him because no one else can cause my body to react the way it’s reacting right now. I squeeze my eyes shut and bring my hands to my face when I feel the covers lift up behind me. I’m absolutely terrified. I’m terrified, because I don’t know which Holder is crawling into my bed right now.

  His arm slides under my pillow and his other arm wraps tightly around my body when he finds my hands. He pulls me against his chest and laces his fingers into mine, then buries his head in my neck. I’m very conscious about the fact that I’m not wearing anything but a tank top and underwear, but I’m confident he’s not here for that part of me. I’m still not positive why he’s here because he’s not even talking, but he knows I’m awake. I know he knows I’m awake because the second his arms went around me, I gasped. He holds me as tight as he can and every now and then, he plants his lips into my hair and kisses me.

  I’m angry with him for being here, but even angrier with myself for wanting him here. No matter how much I want to scream at him and make him leave, I find myself wishing he could squeeze me just a little bit tighter. I want him to lock his arms around me and throw away the key, because this is where he belongs and I’m scared he’ll just let me go again.

  I hate that there are so many sides to him that I don’t understand, and I don’t know if I even want to keep trying to understand them. There are parts of him I love, parts of him I hate, parts that terrify me and parts that amaze me. But there’s a part of him that does nothing but disappoint me…and that’s the absolute hardest part of him to accept.

  We lie here in complete silence for what could be half an hour, but I’m not sure. All I know is that he hasn’t released his grip at all, nor has he made any attempt at explaining himself. But what’s new? There isn’t anything I’ll ever get from him unless I ask the questions first. And right now, I just don’t feel like asking any.

  He releases my fingers from his and brings his hand to the top of my head. He presses his lips into my hair and he folds the arm up that’s underneath my pillow and he’s cradling me, burying his face into my hair. His arms begin to shake and he’s holding me with such intensity and desperation that it becomes heartbreaking. My chest heaves and my cheeks burn and the only thing stopping the tears from flowing is the fact that my eyes are closed so tight, they can’t escape.

  I can’t take the silence anymore, and if I don’t get off my chest what I absolutely need to say, I might scream. I know my voice will be layered with heartbreak and sadness and I’ll barely be able to speak while attempting to contain my tears, but I take a deep breath anyway and say the most honest thing I can say.

  “I’m so mad at you.”

  As if it’s possible, he somehow squeezes me even tighter. He moves his mouth to my ear and kisses it. “I know, Sky,” he whispers. His hand slips underneath my shirt and he presses an open palm against my stomach, pulling me tighter against him. “I know.”

  It’s amazing what the sound of a voice you’ve been longing to hear can do to your heart. He spoke five words just now, but in the time it took him to speak those five words, my heart was shredded and minced, then placed back inside my chest with the expectation that it should somehow know how to beat again.

  I slip my fingers through the hand that’s resting tightly against me and I squeeze it, not even knowing what it means, but every part of me wants to touch him and hold him and make sure he’s really here. I need to know he’s here and that this isn’t just another vivid dream.

  His mouth meets my shoulder and he parts his lips, kissing me softly. The feel of his tongue against my skin immediately sends a surge of heat through me and I can feel the flush rise from my stomach, straight up to my cheeks.

  “I know, baby,” he whispers again, slowly exploring my collarbone and neck with his lips. I keep my eyes shut because the distress in his voice and the tenderness in his touch is making my head spin. I reach up behind me and run my hand through his hair, pressing him deeper into my neck. His warm breath against my skin becomes increasingly more frantic, along with his kisses. Both of our breathing picks up pace as he covers every inch of my neck twice over.

  He lifts up on his arm and urges me flat onto my back, then brings his hand to my face and brushes the hair away from my eyes. Seeing him this close to me brings back every single feeling I’ve ever felt for this boy…the good and the bad. I don’t understand how he can put me through what he’s put me through when the sorrow in his eyes is so prominent. I don’t know if it’s the fact that I can’t read him at all or if I read him too well, but looking up at him right now I know he feels what I’m feeling…which makes his actions that much more confusing.

  “I know you’re mad at me,” he says, looking down at me. His eyes and his words are full of remorse, but the apology still doesn’t come. “I need you to be mad at me, Sky. But I think I need you to still want me here with you even more.”

  My chest grows heavy with his words and it takes an extreme amount of effort to continue pulling breath into my lungs. I nod my head slightly, because I can completely agree to that. I’m pissed at him, but I want him here with me so much more than I don’t. He drops his forehead to mine and we grab hold of each other’s faces, looking desperately into each other’s eyes. I’m not sure if he’s about to kiss me. I’m not even sure if he’s about to get up and leave. The only thing I’m certain about right now is that after this moment, I will never be the same. I know by the way his existence is like a magnetic pull on my heart, that if he ever hurts me again, I’ll be far from just fine. I’ll be broken.

  Our chests are rising and falling as one as the silence and tension grows thicker. The firm grip he has on my face can be felt in every part of me, almost as if he’s gripping me from the inside out. The intensity of the moment causes tears to sting at my eyes, and I’m completely taken aback by my unexpected emotions.

  “I am mad at you, Holder,” I say with an unsteady, but sure voice. “But no matter how mad I’ve been, I never for one second stopped wanting you here with me.”

  He somehow smiles and frowns in the same moment. “Jesus, Sky.” His face contorts into an incredible amount of reprieve. “I’ve missed you so fucking bad.” He immediately drops his mouth and his tongue collides feverishly with mine. He fills me with the sweet taste of his mint leaves and soda, and he’s everything I’ve been imagining he would be and more. Our lips are finally intertwining for the first time, or the twentieth time, or the millionth time. It doesn’t really matter because whichever time this is—it’s absolutely perfect. It’s incredible and flawless and almost worth everything we’ve been through in order to get to this moment.

  Our lips move passionately together as we struggle to pull ourselves closer, wanting to find that perfect connection with our bodies that we’ve just found with our mouths. He works his mouth against mine delicately, yet fiercely, and I match him movement for movement. I release several moans and even more breaths and he drinks each one of them in with his mouth.

  We kiss and we kiss in every position possible, and remain as restrained as we possibly can. We kiss until I can no longer feel my lips, and until I’m so exhausted and spent that I’m not even sure if we’re still kissing when he presses his head to mine again.

  And that’s exactly how we fall asleep
—forehead-to-forehead, wrapped silently together. Because nothing else is spoken between us. Not even an apology.

  I turn over to inspect the bed, half thinking what happened last night was a dream. Holder isn’t here, but in his place is a small gift-wrapped box. I push myself up against my headboard and pick up the gift. I stare at it for a long time before I finally lift the lid and look inside. It’s something that looks like a credit card, so I pick it up and read it.

  He bought me a phone card with texting minutes. Lots of them.

  I smile, because I know the significance of this card. It all lies within the message that Six sent him. He plans on stealing her girl, and he also plans on using a lot of her minutes. The gift makes me smile and I immediately reach to the nightstand and grab my phone. I have one missed text and it’s from Holder.

  You hungry?

  The text is short and simple but it’s his way of letting me know he’s still here. Somewhere. Is he making me breakfast? I go to the bathroom before heading to the kitchen and brush my teeth. I change out of my tank top and pull on a simple sundress, then gather my hair up in a ponytail. I look at my reflection in the mirror and I see a girl who desperately wants to forgive a boy, but not without a hell of a lot of groveling first.

  When I open the door to my bedroom, I’m met with the smell of bacon and the sound of grease sizzling from the kitchen. I walk down the hallway and around the corner, then pause. I stare at him for a while. His back is to me and he’s working his way around the stove, humming to himself. He’s shoeless, wearing jeans topped with a plain white sleeveless t-shirt. He already feels at home again, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

  “I left early this morning,” he says, talking with his back still to me, “because I was afraid your mom would walk in and think I was trying to get you pregnant. Then when I went for my run, I passed by your house again and realized her car wasn’t even home and remembered you said she does those trade days the first weekend of every month. So I decided to pick up some groceries because I wanted to cook you breakfast. I also almost bought groceries for lunch and dinner, but maybe we should take it one meal at a time today.” He turns around and faces me, slowly eyeing me up and down. “Happy Birthday. I really like that dress. I bought real milk, you want some?”

  I walk to the bar and keep my eyes trained on him, trying to process the plethora of words that just came out of his mouth. I scoot out a chair and take a seat. He pours me a glass of milk, even though I never said I wanted one, then slides it to me with a huge grin on his face. Before I can take a sip of the milk, he closes the gap between us and takes my chin in his hand.

  “I need to kiss you. Your mouth was so damn perfect last night, I’m scared I dreamt that whole thing.” He brings his mouth to mine and as soon as his tongue caresses mine, I can already tell this is going to be an issue.

  His lips and his tongue and his hands are so incredibly perfect, I’ll never be able to stay mad at him as long as he’s able to use them against me like this. I grab his shirt and force my mouth against his even harder. He groans and fists his hands into my hair, then abruptly lets go and backs away. “Nope,” he says, smiling. “Didn’t dream it.”

  He walks back to the stove and turns off the burners, then transfers the bacon to a plate lined with eggs and toast. He walks it to the bar and begins filling the plate in front of me with food. He takes a seat and begins eating. He’s smiling at me the whole time, and it suddenly hits me.

  I know. I know what’s wrong with him. I know why he’s happy and angry and temperamental and all over the place and it finally makes so much sense.

  “Are we allowed to play Dinner Quest, even though it’s breakfast time?” he asks.

  I take a sip of my milk and nod. “If I get the first question.”

  He lays his fork down on his plate and smiles. “I was thinking about just letting you have all the questions.”

  “I only need the answer to one.”

  He sighs and leans back against his seat, then looks down at his hands. I can tell by the way he’s avoiding my gaze that he already knows I know. His reaction is one of guilt. I lean forward in my chair and glare at him.

  “How long have you been using drugs, Holder?”

  He shoots his eyes up to meet mine and his expression is stoic. He stares at me for a moment and I keep my stance, wanting him to know I’m not letting up until he tells me the truth. He purses his lips together in a tight line, then looks down at his hands again. For a second I’m thinking he might be preparing to bolt out the front door in order to avoid talking about it, but then I see something on his face I wasn’t expecting to see at all. A dimple.

  He’s grimacing, attempting to hold on to his expression, but the corners of his mouth give way and his smile breaks out into laughter.

  He’s laughing and he’s laughing really hard and it’s really pissing me off.

  “Drugs?” he says between fits of laughter. “You think I’m on drugs?” He continues laughing until he realizes that I don’t think it’s the least bit funny at all. He eventually stops and sucks in a deep breath, then reaches across the table and takes my hand in his. “I’m not on drugs, Sky. I promise. I don’t know why you would think that, but I swear.”

  “Then what the hell is wrong with you?”

  His expression drops with that question, and he releases my hand from his. “Can you be a little less vague?” He falls back into his chair and folds his arms over his chest.

  I shrug. “Sure. What happened to us and why are you acting like it never happened?”

  His elbow is resting on the table and he looks down at his arm. He slowly traces each letter of his tattoo with his fingers, deep in thought. I know silence isn’t considered a sound, but right now the silence between us is the loudest sound in the world. He pulls his arm off the table and looks up at me.

  “I didn’t want to let you down, Sky. I’ve let everyone down in my life that’s ever loved me, and after that day at lunch I knew I let you down, too. So…I left you before you could start loving me. Otherwise, any effort to try not to disappoint you would be hopeless.”

  His words are full of apology and sadness and regret, but he still can’t just say them. He overreacted and jealousy got the best of him, but if he would have just said those two words we would have been spared an entire month of emotional agony. I’m shaking my head, because I just don’t get it. I don’t understand why he couldn’t just say I’m sorry.

  “Why couldn’t you just say it, Holder? Why couldn’t you just apologize?”

  He leans forward across the table and takes my hand, looking me hard in the eyes. “I’m not apologizing to you…because I don’t want you to forgive me.”

  The sadness in his eyes must mirror mine and I don’t want him seeing it. I don’t want him seeing me sad, so I squeeze my eyes shut. He lets go of my hand and I hear him walk around the table until his arms are around me and he’s picking me up. He sets me down on the bar so that we’re at eye level and he brushes the hair from my face and makes me open my eyes again. His eyebrows are pulled together and the pain on his face is raw and real and heartbreaking.

  “Babe, I screwed up. I’ve screwed up more than once with you, I know that. But believe me, what happened at lunch that day wasn’t jealousy or anger or anything that should ever scare you. I wish I could tell you what happened, but I can’t. Someday I will, but I can’t right now and I need you to accept that. Please. And I’m not apologizing to you, because I don’t want you to forget what happened and you should never forgive me for it. Ever. Never make excuses for me, Sky.”

  He leans in and kisses me briefly, then pulls back and continues. “I told myself to just stay away from you and let you be mad at me, because I do have so many issues that I’m not ready to share with you yet. And I tried so hard to stay away, but I can’t. I’m not strong enough to keep denying whatever this is we could have. And yesterday in the lunchroom when you were hugging Breckin and laughing with him? It felt so go
od to see you happy, Sky. But I wanted so bad to be the one who was making you laugh like that. It was tearing me up inside that you were thinking that I didn’t care about us, or that spending that weekend with you wasn’t the best weekend I’ve ever had in my life. Because I do care and it was the best. It was the best fucking weekend in the history of all weekends.”

  My heart is beating wildly, almost as fast as the words are pouring out of him. He releases his firm hold on my face and strokes his hands over my hair, dropping them to the nape of my neck. He keeps them there and calms himself with a deep breath, then continues.

  “It’s killing me, baby,” he says, his voice much more calm and quiet. “It’s killing me because I don’t want you to go another day without knowing how I feel about you. And I’m not ready to tell you I’m in love with you, because I’m not. Not yet. But whatever this is I’m feeling—it’s so much more than just like. It’s so much more. And for the past few weeks I’ve been trying to figure it out. I’ve been trying to figure out why there isn’t some other word to describe it. I want to tell you exactly how I feel but there isn’t a single goddamned word in the entire dictionary that can describe this point between liking you and loving you, but I need that word. I need it because I need you to hear me say it.”

  He pulls my face to his and he kisses me. They’re short kisses, mostly pecks, but he kisses me over and over, pulling back between each kiss, waiting for me to respond.

  “Say something,” he pleads.

  I’m looking into his terrified eyes and for the first time since we met…I think I actually understand him. All of him. He doesn’t react the way he does because there are five different sides to his personality. He reacts the way he does because there’s only one side to Dean Holder.