by Melissa Aden
Sal wasn’t going to believe this.
Chapter 20
Troubled Stew
I was such a loser. I couldn’t believe I was spending my Friday night in my bathtub, though it was my usual routine when I needed to think. Others ran, worked out, or wrote in their journals to hash through their thoughts and feelings. I took a long, hot bath — sometimes for hours on end. Dad referred to it as “stewing.”
The current issue plaguing me: whether or not I should kiss Hagen. I knew it was natural for a girl’s first kiss to seem like a big deal, but the longer I waited to kiss him, the more the whole thing built up in my head, and the more massive the predicament seemed. Adding to my dilemma, I’d noticed something strange: every time Hagen and I were about to kiss, it didn’t feel right. It was as if something was telling me not to do it, to get away from him.
What was it about him that repelled me so? Was it my conscience or some innate instinct? Did I sense actual danger or was it a sub-conscious way for me to guard my heart? Maybe it was none of these things and I was being paranoid and needed to let go.
At first, I translated the feeling as nerves, and decided that to get past it, I needed to face my fear of the unknown and force myself to kiss Hagen. No, I didn’t love him, but we’d dated three months, so the guy at least deserved a kiss, right? But every time I asked myself this, I came up with the same resounding no. And then tonight, the issue came up again.
Hagen had taken me off campus for an early dinner. Date nights had become a rare occurrence. At first, he’d taken me out regularly, doting on me and spoiling me with unexpected gifts. Things had been romantic and fun. But now, we’d been dating for just over three months, I still hadn’t let him kiss me, and he’d grown distant.
Besides the atomic-bomb-of-a-date we’d had tonight, we’d experienced another set back only two days before on Wednesday night. He came over unexpectedly ranting about how he was the most popular guy at Brightman and any girl in her right mind would kill to date him. He went on to say that of all the girls at Brightman, he’d chosen me and I should be grateful, then demanding that I kiss him. Shocked and put off by his pushiness, I out and out refused. He left in a huff and came to breakfast the next morning reeking of alcohol. When I confronted him about it, he insisted that he went straight to his dorm room after calling on me, but the red scratches down his neck told me otherwise. I didn’t know what truly happened, but knowing I really didn’t want the truth, I let it go and we both ignored the incident as if it had never happened.
As for our date tonight, after an early dinner at my favorite Mexican restaurant, we sat in Hagen’s truck in the Brightman parking lot watching the early November snowfall against the sunset. It was only four o’clock, yet it was already growing dark outside.
I sat in the middle of the truck’s bench seat, my head resting on Hagen’s shoulder. It had been a pleasant night and he was in a good mood for the first time in a long while. We talked about school and I told him about my recent phone call with Dad. (I’d found out I wouldn’t be able to see him for Thanksgiving as he’d be on a business trip over the holiday. Hagen said he’d ask his mom if I could join his family for the day. He was sure she wouldn’t mind.) But soon, conversation slowed and something told me he’d turn at any moment to attempt it: the big kiss. Sure enough, he shifted to face me. I looked down, refusing to meet his eyes.
Weird things happened when our eyes met. At first, his gaze caused me to space off completely, going blank for minutes up to a few hours. More recently, I remained conscious but got a strange sensation that made me warm, tingly, and numb when I looked into his eyes. I never confronted Hagen about it for fear that something was seriously wrong with me and he’d think me strange. Plus, the longer I waited to talk about it and the more I looked into Hagen’s eyes, the less effective the associated feeling became, so I assumed it was only a matter of time before the sensation wore off completely.
Our eyes eventually met and the numb feeling swept over me like a drug, warm and soothing at first, yet too powerful to quit once deciding you no longer wanted to be under its spell. While I didn’t like it, it at least quieted my over-thinking brain. I spotted Hagen’s telltale look of perseverance. He was going to try, yet again, to kiss me. My stomach was suddenly in a knot, because this time, things would be different. I was going to let him. I held my breath and was super still.
I knew part of my problem was that I psyched myself out. I often thought of what Hagen told me when I refused to kiss him: that he could have any girl he wanted, yet he chose me. It made me wonder about all the girls he’d actually had. What had they been like: scared and timid like me, or bold and daring? Beautiful, or normal and ordinary with long, stringy brown hair, weird eyes, and a sick feeling in her stomach that just wouldn’t quit?
For so long, I’d seen Hagen as this gorgeous, popular, unattainable guy. It was only recently that I’d realized he wasn’t unattainable as I already had him. I reminded myself that he was just a guy who liked me. He wasn’t better than me. We were on an even playing field. These thoughts soothed my nerves. He was the guy who had waited over three months for me to get my act together, and I wanted to reward him for his patience — for not pressuring me to do anything before I was ready.
But he is pressuring you. And you are pressuring yourself to do something you don’t want to do.
The thought ripped through me like a bolt of lightning as I pondered how I’d react to Hagen’s advance in mere seconds.
No! I want to kiss Hagen. I’m ready, I reasoned with the Voice in my head.
Are you sure? the Voice challenged.
To show the Voice I was boss, I tried my best to mimic the look Hagen was giving me: the dreamy eyes and pouty come-hither lips. I even scooted a little closer to him, feeling every bit a silly, inexperienced girl.
“Do you trust me?” Hagen whispered.
The heat of his stare made me uncomfortable. I nodded my consent, knowing I truly didn’t. I’d seen how two-faced he was with his friends: acting like they were his favorite, yet smearing their names when they weren’t around. His words were muddled in my head — stuck fast there for a time.
“Megan slept with the entire football team. She is such a slut.”
“Richard told me he cheated on our Advanced Chem test. What a crock. He doesn’t deserve that scholarship to MIT. Someone should tell the career counselor. Better yet, I should report him to MIT.”
“Lindsey is a coke whore. Did you see her at the football game the other night? She was totally strung out.”
I’d seen Lindsey at the game, and she’d looked and acted perfectly fine.
I quickly learned Hagen would do anything to keep his position on top, like getting people to trust him only to use their vulnerabilities and secrets against them when, most of the time, he didn’t even need their secrets as he concocted salacious stories with no truth to them at all anyway. I wanted to trust that Hagen had my best intentions at heart, but how did I know he wasn’t doing the same thing with me when I wasn’t around? I stayed with him more out of fear of what he’d do if I left instead of love or — I hated to admit it — even “like.”
“I would never do anything to hurt you. I like you too much for that,” he said, leaning forward and placing a hand on my cheek. His hypnotizing eyes seemed to tell me he was telling the truth, but the message didn’t compute. Why did it seem everything he said was a lie?
His cold hand felt nice on my hot cheek. Studying his face as he leaned in, I braced myself to be kissed. Instead, he bent down and kissed my neck — one brief peck that sent a chill through my entire body. Then he gently grazed my neck with his lips, bottom to top, kissing his way to my mouth. The feeling of his breath on my neck tickled, making my hair stand on end. I closed my eyes willing myself not to laugh or pull away.
I could see how this could be enjoyable if one was doing it with someone they loved. But I didn’t feel that way about Hagen, so instead, it felt forced and awkward.
Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires. The Voice rang loud and clear in my ears. It’s not worth it. There’s so much at stake. Wait!
First, spacing out for hours on end, and now hearing voices! I had to be going crazy.
Hagen stopped below my jaw, taking time to stare into my eyes again, to give me more of the mind-numbing drug his eyes somehow transfused. I didn’t get it. I was physically attracted to Hagen, like every other girl at Brightman, yet the chemistry wasn’t there. I wanted to like him but couldn’t. Maybe I’d like him more if I let him kiss me.
You’re going to kiss him, Sophie, and you’re going to like it, I told myself. Just relax and let it happen. Stop trying to control everything. Give in. Relax!
Hagen leaned forward again, this time closing in on my lips. I closed my eyes, waiting to feel the touch of his lips on mine.
“STOP!”
The warning came loud and strong. It reverberated in my ears and shook through my entire body like the startling sensation of being too close to a large, gonging bell. Panic settled in my chest.
What was that? The warning came in what sounded like my voice. I slapped a hand over my mouth. Did I yell that out loud? I swore I heard it, so I must have shouted it.
“Sophie, are you alright?”
I glanced up. Hagen looked as startled as I felt.
I must have yelled at him just now, I reasoned. What now? There’s no rebounding from this.
“I’m fine. Why?” I tried to sound as normal as possible.
“Are you kidding me?” he asked, clearly offended. “Look at yourself. You couldn’t be further away from me if you tried.”
Taking in my surroundings, I quickly realized I was backed against the passenger door with one hand on the door handle. This couldn’t get any worse.
“Do I repulse you that badly?” he asked, his face falling. “I can’t even try to kiss you without you jumping out of your skin to get away from me.”
“Did I yell at you?” I asked, too curious about what I’d just experienced to ride out his guilt trip.
“Yell at me?” I didn’t think it possible, but he looked even more confused. “Sophie, are you feeling okay? No, you didn’t yell at me, but you did scramble away pretty fast.”
I let out a sigh of relief. That was good to know. But there was no denying I’d heard someone yell “stop” — and in my voice.
Hagen still eyed me cautiously, like I was a rabid animal about to attack. The puzzle pieces came together then, and for the first time, I had total clarity concerning my relationship with him: This thing between Hagen and me simply wasn’t meant to be. I didn’t love him. I honestly didn’t even like him. He was gorgeous on the outside, but on the inside, I didn’t like who he was at all. What had I been thinking? I didn’t want to be with someone like him.
“I’m so sorry, Hagen. Please don’t take this personally, but I just remembered I totally forgot about a twenty-page paper due tomorrow in Mrs. Larson’s class. I guess I thought about it and freaked out,” I lied.
Though I was experiencing clarity now, I wanted to think on my newfound jewels of wisdom before acting on them. Breaking up with Hagen came with dire consequences I didn’t know if I was ready for. Hagen frowned, not seeming to buy it.
“You know how important my grades are to me,” I added.
“Yeah, I know, Sophie. You have the highest GPA in your class,” he said, rolling his eyes. He let out a frustrated sigh, running his fingers through his perfect hair.
I realized then, admiring Hagen’s good looks, that it wasn’t him I had liked all this time but the things that came with him: clout, lavish gifts, popularity, acceptance, friends, and — I couldn’t forget — security. Our relationship was based more on the social hour of meals at Brightman and helping each other feign perfection than common interests, respect, or admiration.
Hagen had given me an out and I took it. “You’re right. I wouldn’t want to screw up my GPA. I should go.”
“Fine,” he mumbled, turning to glower at the staring wheel.
I felt guilty for not caring he was mad, but not enough to stay. I quickly got out of the truck and raced inside — away from Hagen and my growing suspicion that I shouldn’t be with him.
So now I sat in my steaming bath, trying to get the instant replay in my head to stop, having every intention to spend the rest of the night wallowing in deep thoughts in my bed. I found it comforting to lay in the dark under the weight of my covers. I felt safe there. It was a place where no one could get to me or hurt me — besides my tortured, knife-wielding thoughts.
Yes, I conceded that tonight was the undoing of Hagen and Sophie. But I didn’t mind all that much, which worried me. Wasn’t it normal to feel a sense of loss or sadness when a three-month-long relationship ended? Yet not even a single tear had sprung from my eyes.
I determined to stay away from guys for a while. Judging from my past at Brightman, it seemed that when I was with a guy, I either pissed him off or made a total fool of myself.
I groaned, submerging everything but my face under hot water. Why didn’t I want to kiss Hagen? Why did I hear voices and black out? What was wrong with me? Why was I such a freak?
I didn’t know what to think of tonight’s events. An incessant overanalyzer, one second I was proud of myself, and the next, mentally pummeling myself. The average guy probably didn’t put nearly this much thought into things. So why did I? I knew the answer. I overanalyzed to protect myself. It came naturally to me. It was instinctive — a built-in defense mechanism. But what sort of defense mechanism was overanalyzing when it drove me crazier than the boy ever had in the first place? I just wanted it to stop.
That’s when I got an idea.
Quickly bathing, I drained my bath water, threw on some pajamas and raced for my dorms adjoining door. I would tell Mia everything. She’d know what to do. Besides, who in their right mind went to bed at six p.m. on a Friday night? I knocked.
“Hey, Mia,” I said as her door swung open.
My mouth opened in shock and my heart fell into my stomach, upsetting the butterflies that had long been dormant there.
It wasn’t Mia. It was Everett.
Chapter 21
Hold It Against Me
“Surprise—” Everett said, not sounding very enthusiastic.
“Hi,” I replied.
Shoot! Am I wearing the pajama bottoms with the hole torn in the rear? I tried not to look as awkward as I felt in my ratty pajamas with a sopping wet towel piled high on my head.
“Good timing. Mia is cooking tonight. I was about to come over to see if you’d like to join us.”
Sure he was. I couldn’t believe he was talking to me. I hadn’t spoken to him since our tense words in the lunchroom over three months ago. The smell of garlic and onion wafted through the air, and something hissed while it cooked.
“It smells great, but I already ate.” I hoped Everett didn’t think I was making an excuse. I didn’t know if it was my new revelation on Hagen or the fact that Everett looked handsome as ever in a red cashmere sweater and jeans, but here I stood wanting nothing more that to make up with him. “Besides, I think I’m underdressed,” I joked, attempting to break the tension I felt.
“You look perfect as always, Sophie,” Everett replied, not so much as glancing at my mismatched T-shirt and wrinkled pajama pants.
“I’m not sure about that,” I said, feeling my cheeks warm. I couldn’t remember the last time something, or someone, had made me blush.
“Sophie’s at the door. She won’t join us because she thinks she’s underdressed,” Everett called over his shoulder towards the kitchen, his eyes never leaving my face.
Mia stuck her head out from the kitchen. She waved a spatula in one hand and an oven mitt on the other. “Excuses, excuses! You look fine. It’s only Everett and me,” she hollered. “Ahhh… the garlic bread is burning!” She threw her hands up, frantically running back into the kitchen.
“Were you planning on ha
ving dessert?” I asked Everett.
“No, but if that’s the clincher, I can always whip something up.” His green eyes sparkled.
“Well, since you’re bribing me with sweets.”
“Whatever it takes.” He smiled broadly. Leaning into my dorm, he grabbed my hand and pulled me into Mia’s world. I eyed him warily as he half-dragged me into the kitchen, reminding me of my first night with him in Brightman’s kitchen.
“Well, well! Who knew you could cook?” I asked, joining Mia by the stove.
“Don’t tell anyone, but I don’t think I can,” she laughed.
Her usually sleek hair was a frizzy pile on top of her head, her eye makeup was slightly smudged, and sweat dotted her forehead and upper lip. Completing the frazzled look was an apron decorated with tomato-stained splotches of oranges and reds.
“You’re a mess.”
Catching my gaze, she looked down at her apron, and laughed with me. “Don’t judge. I’ve been homesick so my mom had her chef send me one of our family recipes. Tonight, I’m trying to make it.”
“I’ve already told her the goal is to cook the food, not wear it, but she refuses to let me help,” Everett said, shuffling through the fridge.
“I can do it on my own,” Mia insisted.
“Your loss!” His voice trailed away as he walked into the living room.
“I’m sure she’ll be fine without you,” I hollered after him. I turned back to Mia. “Boys! Always thinking they’re the end all and be all of everything.” I rolled my eyes. My words sounded angrier than I’d meant for them to.
Mia raised a brow. “Boy trouble?”
“Yes… no… I don’t know. I’m a little frustrated with the guys in my life. I don’t know where Everett and I stand, I’m pretty sure my relationship with Hagen is over, and my dad called this week to cancel Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, Sophie! That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”