Hopeless

by Hoover, Colleen

  Um…

  Breathe, Sky.

  Just breathe.

  It’s not that hard.

  Take a breath.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and try to tell myself I did not just hear what I thought I heard. But he said it clear as day. And I honestly don’t know what breaks my heart more—the fact that he called me by someone else’s name, or the fact that he actually said love this time instead of live.

  I attempt to talk myself down from rolling over and punching him in his damn face. He’s been drinking and he was half asleep when he said it. I can’t assume she really means something to him when it could have just been a dream. But…who the hell is Hope? And why does he love her?

  I’m sweating because it’s hot under these covers, but I don’t want to take them off my head. I know if the door opens, it won’t matter if I have covers on or not, but I feel safer with them on anyway. I poke my fingers out and lift the piece of cover up that’s in front of my eyes. I look at the doorknob like I do every night.

  Don’t turn. Don’t turn. Please, don’t turn.

  It’s always so quiet in my room and I hate it. Sometimes I hear things that I think might be the doorknob turning and it makes my heart beat really hard and really fast. Right now, just staring at the doorknob is making my heart beat really hard and really fast, but I can’t stop staring at it. I don’t want it to turn. I don’t want that door to open, I don’t.

  Everything is so quiet.

  So quiet.

  The doorknob doesn’t turn.

  My heart stops beating so fast, because the doorknob never turns.

  My eyes get really heavy and I finally close them.

  I’m so glad that tonight’s not one of the nights that the doorknob turns.

  It’s so quiet.

  So quiet.

  And then it’s not, because the doorknob turns.

  “Sky.”

  I’m so heavy. Everything is so heavy. I don’t like this feeling. There isn’t anything physically on my chest, but I feel a pressure unlike anything I’ve ever felt. And sadness. An overwhelming sadness is consuming me, and I have no idea why. My shoulders are shaking and there are sobs coming from somewhere in the room. Who’s crying?

  Am I crying?

  “Sky, wake up.”

  I feel his arm around me. His cheek is pressed against mine and he’s behind me, holding me tightly against his chest. I grab his wrist and lift his arm off of me. I sit up on the bed and look around. It’s dark outside. I don’t get it. I’m crying.

  He sits up beside me and turns me toward him, brushing at my eyes with his thumbs.

  “You’re scaring me, babe.” He’s looking at me and he’s worried. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to regain control, because I have no idea what the hell is happening and I can’t breathe. I can hear myself crying and I can’t inhale a breath because of it.

  I look at the clock on the nightstand and it says three. Things are starting to come back into focus now, but…why am I crying?

  “Why are you crying, babe?” Holder asks. He pulls me to him and I let him. He feels safe. He feels like home when I’m wrapped up in him. He holds me and rubs my back, kissing the side of my head every now and then. He keeps saying, “Don’t worry,” over and over and he holds me for what feels like forever.

  The weight gradually lifts off my chest, the sadness dissipates and I’m eventually no longer crying.

  I’m scared though, because nothing like this has ever happened to me before. Never in my life have I felt sadness this unbearable, so how could it feel so real from a dream?

  “You okay?” he whispers.

  I nod against his chest.

  “What happened?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know. I guess it was a bad dream.”

  “Want to talk about it?” He soothes my hair with his hands.

  I shake my head. “No. I don’t want to remember it.”

  He hugs me for a long time, then kisses me on the forehead. “I don’t want to leave you, but I need to go. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

  I nod, but I don’t release my grip. I want to beg him not to leave me alone, but I don’t want to sound desperate and terrified. People have bad dreams all the time; I don’t understand why I’m responding like this.

  “Go back to sleep, Sky. Everything’s okay, you just had a bad dream.”

  I lay back down on the bed and close my eyes. I feel his lips brush against my forehead, and then he’s gone.

  I give both Breckin and Max a hug in the parking lot of the gallery. The gallery showing has ended and Holder and I are going back to his place. I know I should be nervous about what might happen between us tonight, but I’m not nervous at all. Everything with him feels right. Well, everything except the phrase that keeps repeating over and over in my head.

  I love you, Hope.

  I want to ask him about it, but I can’t find the right moment. The gallery showing certainly wasn’t the place to bring it up. Now seems like a good time, but every time I open my mouth to do it, I clamp it shut again. I think I’m more afraid of who she is and what she means to him than I am of actually working up the nerve to bring it up. The longer I put off asking him about it, the longer I have before I’m forced to learn the truth.

  “You want to grab something to eat?” he asks, pulling out of the parking lot.

  “Yeah,” I say quickly, relieved that he interrupted my thoughts. “A cheeseburger sounds good. And cheese fries. And I want a chocolate milkshake.”

  He laughs and takes my hand in his. “A little demanding are we, Princess?”

  I let go of his hand and turn to face him. “Don’t call me that,” I snap.

  He glances at me and can more than likely see the anger on my face, even in the dark.

  “Hey,” he says soothingly, picking up my hand again. “I don’t think you’re demanding, Sky. It was a joke.”

  I shake my head. “Not demanding. Don’t call me princess. I hate that word.”

  He gives me a sidelong glance, then shifts his eyes back to the road. “Okay.”

  I turn my gaze out the window, trying to get the word out of my head. I don’t know why I hate nicknames so much, but I do. And I know I overreacted just now, but he can never call me that again. He also shouldn’t call me by the name of any of his ex-girlfriend’s either. He should just stick to Sky…it’s much safer.

  We drive in complete silence and I become increasingly more regretful for reacting like I did. If anything, I should be more upset by the fact that he called me by another girl’s name than by referring to me as Princess. It’s almost like I’m displacing my anger because I’m too afraid to bring up what’s really bothering me. Honestly, I just want a drama-free night with him tonight. There’ll be plenty of time to ask him about Hope another day.

  “I’m sorry, Holder.”

  He squeezes my hand and pulls it onto his lap, but doesn’t say anything else.

  When we pull into his driveway, I get out of the car. We never did stop for food, but I don’t even feel like bringing it up now. He meets me at the passenger door and wraps his arms around me and I hug him back. He walks me until my back is against the car and I press my head to his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. The awkwardness from the drive here still lingers, so I attempt to ease myself against him in a relaxing way to let him know I’m not thinking about it. He’s lightly stroking his fingers up and down my arms, covering me in chills.

  “Can I ask you something?” he says.

  “Always.”

  He sighs, then pulls back and looks at me. “Did I freak you out Monday? In my car? If I did, I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I’m not a pussy, I swear. I haven’t cried since Les died, and I sure as hell didn’t mean to do it in front of you.”

  I lean my head into his chest again and hug him tighter. “You know last night when I woke up after that dream?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s the second time I’ve cried si
nce I was five. The only other time I cried was when you told me about what happened to your sister. I cried when I was in the bathroom. It was just one tear, but it counts. I think when we’re together, maybe our emotions become a little overwhelming and it turns us both into pussies.”

  He laughs and kisses me on top of the head. “I have a feeling I won’t be living you for much longer.” He gives me another quick kiss, then takes my hand. “Ready for the grand tour?”

  I follow him toward his house, but I’m still stuck on the fact that he just told me he’s about to stop living me. If he stops living me, that means he’ll be loving me. He just confessed that he’s falling in love with me without actually saying it. The most shocking thing about his confession is that I really liked it.

  We walk inside and the house is nothing like I expected. It doesn’t seem very big from the outside, but there’s a foyer. Normal houses don’t have foyers. There’s an archway to the right that leads to a living room. The entire walls are covered in nothing but books, and I feel like I’ve just died and gone to heaven. “Wow,” I say, eyeing the bookshelves in the living room. Books are stacked on shelves from floor to ceiling on every single wall.

  “Yeah,” he says. “Mom was pretty pissed when they invented the e-reader.”

  I laugh. “I think I already like your mom. When do I get to meet her?”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t introduce girls to my mother.” His voice is as detached as his words, and as soon as he says it, his expression drops and he knows he’s just hurt my feelings. He walks swiftly to me and takes my face in his hands. “No, no. That’s not what I meant. I’m not saying you’re anything like the other girls I’ve dated. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

  I hear what he’s saying, but we’ve been dating as long as we have and he still isn’t convinced it’s real enough for me to meet his mother? I wonder if we’ll ever be real enough to him for me to meet his mother.

  “Did Hope get to meet her?” I know I shouldn’t have said it, but I couldn’t keep it in any longer. Especially now, hearing him say “other girls.” I’m not delusional; I know he dated other people before he met me. I just don’t like hearing him say it. Much less calling me by their names.

  “What?” he asks, dropping his hands. He’s backing away from me. “Why did you say that?” The color is draining from his face and I immediately regret saying it.

  “Never mind. It’s nothing. I don’t have to meet your mom.” I just want whatever this is to pass. I knew I wouldn’t feel like talking about it tonight. I want to get back to the house tour and forget this conversation ever happened.

  He grabs my hands and says it again. “Why would you say that, Sky? Why did you say that name?”

  I shake my head. “It’s not that big of a deal. You were drunk.”

  He narrows his eyes at me and it’s clear I’m not escaping this conversation. I sigh and reluctantly give in, clearing my throat before I speak.

  “Last night when you were falling asleep…you told me you loved me. But you called me Hope, so you weren’t really talking to me. You’d been drinking and you were half asleep, so I don’t need an explanation. I don’t know if I really even want to know why you said it.”

  He brings his hands to his hair and groans. “Sky.” He steps forward, taking me in his arms. “I’m so sorry. It must have been a stupid dream. I don’t even know anyone named Hope and I’ve definitely never had an ex-girlfriend by that name if that’s what you were thinking. I’m so sorry that happened. I should have never gone to your house drunk.” He looks down at me and as much as my instincts are telling me he’s lying, his eyes are completely sincere. “You have to believe me. It’ll kill me if you think for a second that I feel anything at all for someone else. I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

  Every word coming from his mouth is dripping with sincerity and honesty. Considering I can’t even remember why I woke up crying, it’s possible his sleep talking really was the result of a random dream. And hearing everything he just said to me puts into perspective just how serious things are becoming between us.

  I look up at him, attempting to prepare some sort of response to everything he just said. I part my lips and wait for the words to come, but they don’t. I’m suddenly the one needing more time to process my thoughts.

  He’s cupping my cheeks, waiting for me to break the silence between us. The proximity of his mouth to mine weathers his patience. “I need to kiss you,” he says apologetically, pulling my face to his. We’re still standing in the foyer, but he somehow picks me up effortlessly and sets me down on the stairs leading to the upstairs bedrooms. I lean back and he returns his lips to mine, his hands gripping the wooden steps on either side of my head.

  Due to our position, he’s forced to lower a knee between my thighs. It isn’t that big of a deal unless you take into consideration the dress that I have on. It would be so easy for him to take me right here on the stairs, but I’m hoping we at least make it to his room first before he tries. I wonder if he’s expecting anything, especially after the text I accidentally sent him. He’s a guy, of course he’s expecting something. I wonder if he knows I’m a virgin. Should I even tell him I’m a virgin? I should. He’ll probably be able to tell.

  “I’m a virgin,” I blurt against his mouth. I immediately wonder what the hell I’m doing even speaking aloud right now. I shouldn’t be allowed to speak ever again. Someone should strip me of my voice, because I obviously have no filter when my sexual guard is down.

  He immediately stops kissing me. He slowly backs his face away from mine and looks down into my eyes. “Sky,” he says directly. “I’m kissing you because sometimes I can’t not kiss you. You know what your mouth does to me. I’m not expecting anything else, okay? As long as I get to kiss you, the other stuff can wait.” He’s tucking my hair behind my ears now and looking down at me genuinely.

  “I just thought you should know. I probably should have picked a better time to state that fact, but sometimes I just blurt things out without thinking. It’s a really bad trait and I hate it because I do it at the most inopportune moments and it’s embarrassing. Like right now.”

  He laughs and shakes his head. “No, don’t stop doing that. I love it when you blurt things out without thinking. And I love it when you spout off long, nervous, ridiculous rants. It’s kind of hot.”

  I blush. Being called hot is seriously…hot.

  “You know what else is hot?” he says, leaning back in to me again.

  The playfulness in his expression chips away at my embarrassment. “What?”

  He grins. “Trying to keep our hands off each other while we watch a movie.” He stands up and pulls me to my feet, then leads me up the stairs to his room.

  He opens the door and walks in first, then turns around and tells me to close my eyes. I roll them, instead.

  “I don’t like surprises,” I say.

  “You also don’t like presents and certain common terms of endearment. I’m learning. But this is just something cool I want to show you—it’s not anything I bought you. So deal with it and shut your eyes.”

  I do what he says and he pulls me forward into the room. I already love it in here because it smells just like him. He walks me a few steps, then places his hands on my shoulders. “Sit,” he says, pushing me down. I take a seat on what feels like a bed, then I’m suddenly flat on my back and he’s lifting up my feet. “Keep your eyes closed.”

  I feel him pulling my feet onto the bed and propping me up against a pillow. His hand grabs the hem of my sundress and he pulls it down, making sure it stays in place. “Gotta keep you covered up. Can’t be flashing me thigh when you’re on your back like that.”

  I laugh, but I keep my eyes closed. He’s suddenly crawling over me, careful not to knee me. I can feel him positioning himself next to me on his pillow. “Okay. Open your eyes and prepare to be wowed.”

  I’m scared. I slowly pry my eyes open. I hesitate to guess what I’m l
ooking at, because I almost think it’s a TV. But TV’s don’t usually take up eighty inches of wall space. This thing is ginormous. He points a remote at it and the screen lights up.

  “Wow,” I say, impressed. “It’s huge.”

  “That’s what she said.”

  I elbow him in the side and he laughs. He points the remote back up to the TV. “What’s your favorite movie ever? I have Netflix.”

  I tilt my head in his direction. “Net what?”

  He laughs and shakes his head in disappointment. “I keep forgetting you’re technologically challenged. It’s similar to an e-reader, only with movies and television shows instead of books. You can watch pretty much anything at the push of a button.”

  “Are there commercials?”

  “Nope,” he says proudly. “So what’ll it be?”

  “Do you have The Jerk? I love that movie.”

  His arm falls to his chest and he clicks the power button and turns off the TV. He’s silent for several long seconds, then he sighs forcefully. He leans over and sets the remote down on his nightstand, then rolls over and faces me. “I don’t want to watch TV anymore.”

  He’s pouting? What the hell did I say?

  “Fine. We don’t have to watch The Jerk. Pick something else out, you big baby,” I laugh.

  He doesn’t respond for a few moments while he continues staring at me inexpressively. He lifts his hand and runs it across my stomach and around to my waist, then grips me tightly and pulls me against him. “You know,” he says, narrowing his eyes as he meticulously rakes them down my body. He traces the pattern of my dress with a finger, delicately stroking over my stomach. “I can handle what this dress does to me.” He lifts his eyes from my stomach, back up to my mouth. “I can even handle having to constantly stare at your lips, even when I don’t get to kiss them. I can handle the sound of your laughter and how it makes me want to cover your mouth with mine and drink it all in.”

  His mouth is closing in on mine, and the way his voice has dropped into some sort of lyrical, god-like octave makes my heart pummel within my chest. He lowers his lips to my cheek and lightly kisses it, his warm breath colliding with my skin when he speaks. “I can even handle the millions of times I’ve replayed our first kiss over and over in my head this past month. The way you felt. The way you sounded. The way you looked up at me right before my lips met yours.”