“Plus,” I proclaim, setting the cat back down on the chair with the others, “can you remember who gave this cat to me, William? Hmm? I’ll give you a hint. He’s always annoying me.”
Gasping, he glances around my small room. “I didn’t know Ian was here.”
I snort. “Ha ha. Very funny.”
He grins. “I thought so.”
I pick up a different cat, this one orange like Garfield. It even has the same lazy look stitched onto its tiny face. “Fifth grade. The day after Valentine’s Day. I was sad because nobody got me candy. Seriously, everybody got candy but me. It was embarrassing. Then, I go to my locker, and see a white tail hanging from the space on the side of it. There, on the top shelf, is a beautiful white stuffed cat and a box of chocolates. Not just any chocolates. My favorite Lindor Truffles.”
Will’s smile says it all. He remembers.
“Then, I get home, and find an orange cat perched on my bed, in between my pillows.” I stroke the orange cat’s fake fur in my hands. “With a card, if I recall. And what did it say, Will? Refresh my memory.”
He chuckles at my coaxing. “It said, ‘I’m sorry for eating all your candy in class’.”
I put my free hand on my hip. “Yes, it did. I still can’t believe you went into my bag and ate all my candy before I could even see what there was! I totally thought everybody hated me!”
He rolls his eyes. “I bought you those truffles because I felt bad, didn’t I? And the cats. I spent, like, two weeks of allowance on your cat-obsessed ass.”
I throw the cat at him. He manages to catch it, hugging it close to his chest.
I pick up a brown cat. One of the button eyes fell out a long time ago, and its missing half of the whiskers on its face. My parents’ dog got ahold of it not long after I got it, tearing it apart. Mom tried fixing it, but it still looks pretty demented.
“Sixth grade,” Will says, staring at the cat. “We went to the school carnival, and you fell in love with that cat but you couldn’t win any of the games to save your life.”
I eye him, wanting to argue. But I always sucked at playing games, especially when prizes were available to win. I have no aim, my coordination sucks, and usually people just take pity on me and give me a prize based on how pathetic I am.
Whatever.
“So,” he continues, grinning, “you begged me to play the bottle toss game because you just had to have it. Really, I don’t see why. The thing is hideous, even before Baily got to it.”
I huff. “I didn’t beg you.”
His brows arch. “You pulled me to the game booth and told me that you’d die if you didn’t have the stupid stuffed animal. I recall you saying you’d get on your hands and knees and kiss my shoes. Then you said you’d come over and do night chores for me at the farm in payment.”
Oh yeah.
“Which, by the way, you didn’t do,” he reminds me.
I open my mouth to say something witty, but I have nothing. So, I just shrug and nod, because there’s no denying it. Let’s be real, he knew damn well I wasn’t going to do his chores for him. He agreed anyway.
Putting the cat down with his stuffed animal family, I pat its misshapen head a few more times before walking back to my bed. I pick up the black cat I won yesterday, and put it on my lap, sitting cross legged next to Will.
“So, you conned a carnie to get that thing?” he asks, still hugging the Garfield wannabe in his arms.
A slick grin tips my lips. “Yep.”
He can’t help but chuckle, although I see the desire to roll his eyes and lecture me. That’s Will for you, always trying to get me to do the right thing. He goes along with my antics, but never lets me get away with them easily. He insists on heckling me for a solid minute before he realizes that my conscious is AWOL and I’m going to do what I please anyway.
Then, he succumbs like the good bestie he is.
“If it makes you feel better, Ian really did pay the guy an extra dollar before we left,” I offer nonchalantly. “I don’t think he approved of my methods. Some rock star he is, am I right? Aren’t they supposed to, like, trash hotel rooms and break guitars and stuff? Nope. Ian takes me to the fair, buys me all I can eat fried junk food, and pays carnies extra money.”
Now he really is rolling his eyes. “As much as I hate to say this, I’m glad he did that. Poor carnie could probably get in trouble otherwise.”
I deadpan. “I took one measly dart.”
“Which is cheating.”
“He would have totally given it to me if I just batted my eyelashes at him,” I retort, determined to win this argument. “All I would have had to do was get my flirt on.”
“Your flirt on?” he repeats, a lopsided grin pulling up the right side of his lips. “I don’t know if you’ve got it in you, Tess. Maybe it’s better that you cheated.”
My eyes narrow at his lack of belief in me. “You don’t think I could do it? I’ve been told I’m quite the flirt. Old man Jenkins would even be falling for this.” I gesture toward my body suggestively, wiggling me top half.
He tips his head back and laughs. “Did you just pull a SpongeBob character into this?”
“The old geezer is sour in the show,” I argue.
“He’s also fictional.”
I sigh loudly. “Not the point, William. The point is that I’ve got game. Hell, if I showed a little cleavage he would have given me two prizes.”
Will’s eyes harden, his lips drawing together in a thin line. “No,” he says in a low, stern voice, “that would not be a good idea. Jesus, Tess, really? Flashing some stranger just to get a damn cat?”
Whoa. Did not expect that reaction from him.
I feel my cheeks heat up, blossoming with slight embarrassment as he looks at me through slit eyes. “Chill, Will. I’m just kidding.”
My words are no more than a mumbled response, but he hears them nonetheless. The tension in his shoulders subside, and his eyes turn from “you’ve got to be kidding me” to “glad you’re not ho-bagging it with a carnie.”
Honestly, does he think I’d just pull my shirt up and give a show? I’m offended to think he does, but based on the darkness still lingering in his forest green eyes—which are usually a lighter shade of emerald—he’s thinking exactly that.
I slip off the bed, leaving the cat beside him. “Real nice, Will. I’m not a ho, you know. Despite the majority vote on the matter at school. I was just teasing, you didn’t have to get all judgy on me.”
Memories from freshman year resurface, no matter how hard I try pushing them away. The rumors. The lies.
She’s the school slut, my old roommate told everyone. Didn’t you hear?
Only I wasn’t, but the school’s small campus meant the rumors spread like wild fire. The number of side-eyes and snickers from everyone I passed made me want to crawl out of my skin. And why? Because I didn’t get along with my roommate? Because she felt the need to make everyone turn against me?
I dealt with the rumors the best I could, ignoring them. Ignoring the weird looks or commentary. I stopped hanging out with the small group of “friends” I made because they were just as toxic as my roommate turned out to be.
Don’t let them get to you. Don’t let them win, my parents would tell me.
Some days it was easier to accomplish than others, especially with Will sticking by my side. When everything was going down, he stayed beside me. He dispelled the rumors. He defended me when people came up to me and asked stupid questions or made ridiculous comments.
Hearing him act like I’m the person everybody accused me of being cut deep. It was awful when Becky, my roommate, started rumors and broke what little trust I thought I had for her. With Will, it was ten times worse. Like he took a knife to my back himself, and twisted it.
I busy myself by going to my desk, opening my laptop to work on editing my photos. I don’t want to think about freshman year, or my roommate, or all the people who are no longer than in my life. Slowly, ever so slowly, I
came to realize that dwelling on what people did wasn’t worth it. Do I still do it? Yes. I always will, because I’m human. We relive the pieces of our pasts that consume the most emotions, because it’s how we feel alive.
I used to think it didn’t make sense, but now I see the truth in it.
I don’t hear him get off the bed or come up behind me, but before I know it, his hands are on either side of my body, spinning the office chair to face him.
I refuse to look at him.
Well, I try to refuse to. He tilts my chin up so we’re looking at each other. His normal green eyes—like a gemstone you’d only find in Oz—greet me, easing some of the irritation planted in my chest. Actually, it melts my irritation altogether, which in itself is annoying. Will can be such a protective pain in my ass, and he annoys me when he reacts the way he does sometimes. Yet, one look at his soft eyes and hard features make me forget why I’m even angry with him.
It’s not fair, the pull he has on me. I try to tell myself it’s because best friends don’t fight—that they make up and love each other no matter how stupid the situation.
A feeling deep down in the pit of my stomach tells me it’s more than that.
I push the feeling away, burying it deeper into the pit it’s trying to worm itself out of. The little bastard is trying to cause trouble, and I don’t want that.
Do I?
I have no other choice but to meet Will’s gaze. He gives me a small smile, the corners of his lips tipping up and revealing the dimple he knows I love.
Damn him, playing unfairly.
“Stop giving me the look. I’m mad at you.” I force myself to turn my face away, my eyes traveling to the camera in my lap. I clench it in my hands, fingers brushing the button.
“I don’t want you to be mad at me.” His voice is softer than it was before.
“Well too bad,” I grumble, trying to sound mad.
He does what he knows I can’t resist. He gives me the puppy dog eyes, his eyes rounding, his plump bottom lip sticking out, and his eyelashes fanning in plea.
I hold my own, staying silent for a good thirty seconds before I break.
I’m weak.
“God, you’re so annoying,” I groan in defeat.
He winks at me. “I know. Nothing I can do to change that.”
“Except maybe, I don’t know, stop being annoying? Ever tried that?”
He thinks about it. “Nope. No can do, Tess.”
I roll my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he finally apologizes. “I didn’t mean to react that way. I just don’t like you joking around about revealing yourself to a stranger. To any guy.”
I stare at him, voice breathy, “To any guy?”
He nods once, his eyes darkening. The gold flecks are changing the color. They’re flashing. Heated.
My heart does a weird fluttery thing in my chest, and I squirm in my chair. Two contradictory reactions to his heated gaze, tearing me apart to figure out what I feel. How I feel. My reactions are physical, not emotional. Not mental. The way he looks at me is like how I see my mom look at my dad. Hell, it’s how I look at cheesecake. Sad, but true.
But I don’t know if it’s how I want him to look at me, because he doesn’t deserve to settle for someone like me. Tainted.
I fidget with my camera, scrolling through the gallery to figure out which to upload and edit next. I scroll over the selfie Ian made me take with him, not wanting to focus on it compared to the others. It’s the odd one out of what I captured that day. I want to send the compilation of finished pictures to Ian so he can use them for his social media sites. Candid shots are always my favorite, and most of them would be great for promotional uses if the band wanted them to be. The picture of him and I won’t make the cut to help anybody.
Especially myself.
Will blinks, and whatever heat I thought I saw disappears as quickly as it appeared. Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe I’m reaching for something.
He clears his throat, drawing back. “Yeah,” he reasons, giving me a loose shrug. “I just don’t want any guy taking advantage of you. If you give them a show, they’ll think you’ll do more.”
My heart deflates for more than one reason.
I collect myself, mentally shaking off the stupidity I let my mind wrap around. “I don’t need you to get all overprotective, Will. I have a dad for that.”
He winces. “I know. I’m not trying to be like him. That’d be … well, creepy as hell.”
I laugh in agreement, easing at the fact we’re back to our usual selves. “That doesn’t stop girls calling attractive guys daddies though.” I shudder at the thought. “Seriously, Freud would have a field day with our generation, don’t you think?”
He snorts. “Understatement of the year.”
We look at each other in silence, comfort thick in the air between us. Mom always told me that it was important to find somebody I could sit in silence with comfortably. Will and I never have to talk when we’re together. We can lay in silence for a solid hour just relaxing without it being awkward. Just being in each other’s company has been enough.
I smile at the thought.
“We good?” he asks, breaking the silence first.
I’m about to ask from what, when I remember what we even started fighting about. He isn’t asking if we’re good after the look he gave me, or how it made me question what it meant. How could he? He may be my best friend, but he’s not a mind reader.
He’s asking if we’re good after his momentary, and totally unnecessary, freak-out. The one caused because he’s overprotective, not because he’s jealous. The one that means we’re best friends, and not anything else.
I find myself nodding, an empty gesture. “We’re good.”
His smile is back to normal, playful and carefree. I can’t help but smile back the same way, because it’s easy with Will. There are no complications, no second guesses.
Well, not anymore.
If I let myself think the way I was before, I’d lose my best friend. And I couldn’t afford that.
Picking up the black cat from my bed, he brings it over to me. “It’s a cute addition to your collection, Tess.”
“Sure, now you say that,” I scoff, holding the animal close to me. “Just a few minutes ago you were criticizing me for it.”
He grins. “Well, since I’m not responsible for giving you this one, I can say whatever I want about it. Now we can blame Ian for your growing cat family.”
I don’t give him a verbal response, because Ollie waltzes in and right over to the unexpecting Will. Before I can warn him of the evil in Ollie’s olive-green eyes, Ollie bites the back of his foot.
“Son of a—” Will hobbles, his stability wavering, and Ollie makes a break for it out of my room.
I shouldn’t laugh. In fact, I should go yell at Ollie. But, somehow, I’m laughing instead. Especially when Will loses his balance and topples over, bouncing off the edge of the bed and onto the floor. His arm reaches out, trying to catch himself. He ends up swiping the chair with my stuffed animals on it, and all of them fall from where they’re resting and land on Will’s body.
The image of him covered in fluffy stuffed animals is more than amusing to me, and blurred by the tears forming in my eyes. I try to catch my breath and calm down, especially when he sits up and glares at me, pushing stuffed cats off him with disgruntlement.
I let out a snort that sounds like a pig being strangled, which makes Will’s lip twitch into an almost-smile.
He sighs loudly and declares, “Your cat is more than an asshole, Tess.”
I wipe tears off my face. “You shouldn’t have laughed at him. Even cats who are assholes have feelings, William.”
Standing up, he shakes his head. “You’re lucky I love you,” he grumbles, taking in the mess of cats scattered on the floor.
I finally calm down. “You’re going to clean that up, right?”
He eyes me, but doesn’t argue before picking them up and placing them back o
n the chair as they were.
“And for the record,” I add, coming over and wrapping my arms around his waist. “I love you, too, you cat-bully weirdo.”
My shoes are covered in mud by the time I make it to the peak of the cow path, a dirt hiking trail that goes through the woods behind the college. It leads to an open meadow, one overlooking a majority of Bennington.
Not the bustling part of the city that’s filled with strangers who are too busy staring at the screen of their phones to pay any attention to you. No smiles or waves, or friendly greetings as you walk by.
Here, the view is all country. A part of Bennington that reminds me of Clinton with the open fields surrounded by patches of pine trees. The cow path is my home away from home, where the fresh breeze flows through your hair without smelling like fast food that overwhelms your senses. Where the sun kisses your face full-on without tall buildings blocking its rays.
Out here it’s freeing. Light. Open.
My camera strap weighs heavily on my neck, my camera resting against my chest. My fingers ache to catch every angle I can, but I tell myself to take in the view first. It’s my favorite one, especially when the sun is setting. Someday soon, I’ll have to come when the sun is saying goodbye to another day, when I can watch the mixture of pinks, purples, and oranges bleed together like an open watercolor in the sky. The yellow sun illuminating the end of another day. The darkness of the fading colors assuring another yet to come.
Some people find the darkness discomforting, like it’s an evil that should be gotten rid of. But I find the dark welcoming, like there’s a promise that the light will come again. A hope that bubbles past the surface of uncertainty.
This is where I come to think without judgement, feel without criticism, and be without having to put on a face. The pressure of the past still weighs heavily in my chest, like an anvil is laying on top of me with no chance of moving. But every day, a little piece of me finds the strength to push it up. To breathe. To think.
You can’t just wake up one day and decide you’re not broken anymore, it’s a process that takes weeks, months, years. An infinity of back and worth—to be forget or to remember. To use the strength or accept the weakness. To move on or to hold on.
The Summer We Changed (Relentless Book 1) Page 9