“Mark was my best friend,” I tell her. “When he left, I felt like he took part of me with him. When my dad threw him out, I couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t stay and fight—if not for him, then for me.”
I’ve never told anyone that before. Not even Chris or Logan. Beth’s the first person to ever call me out on something so major—so personal. I deserve whatever wrath will come next.
With a weighty sigh, Beth deflates to the crumbling parking curb. “I get it.” She looks small and lost again and my heart rips from my chest.
I sit on the curb and everything in my world becomes right when she rests her head on my shoulder. Wrapping an arm around her, I briefly close my eyes as she inches her warm body next to mine. This is where Beth belongs—tucked in close to me.
“You were still an asshole to Mark,” she says.
“Yeah.” The regret eats at my stomach. “But what do I do? It’s him or my dad. The two of them have drawn battle lines. I’m supposed to choose one or the other, but I need them both.”
Silence. A balmy breeze dances across the parking lot.
“She’s my mom,” Beth says with the same heaviness I’d heard in Scott’s voice when he talked about Beth as a child. “In case you were wondering.”
“I was.” But I wasn’t ready to push her. My fingers lightly trace her arm and I swear she presses closer to me. I’d love to kiss her right now. Not the type of kiss that makes her body come alive. The type of kiss that shows her how much I care—the type that involves my soul.
Beth lifts her head and I drop my arm. She needs her space and I need to learn how to give it.
“We suck at dating,” she says.
I chuckle. We do suck at it. Hoping for a perfect moment, I was going to wait until after dinner to give her what I’ve brought with me, but the one thing I’m learning with Beth is that perfection will never happen. I shove my hand into my pocket, pull out the thin satin strip of material, and dangle it in front of her. “This is my gift to you. This is my wow.”
Beth blinks once and her head slowly inclines to the left as she stares at the ribbon. How do guys do it? How do they give gifts to the girls they have feelings for and stay sane? I want her to be wowed so she’ll stay on homecoming court, but more…I want this gift to prove that I know her and that I see beyond black hair and nose rings and cut-up jeans. I see her as she really is—I see Beth.
“You bought me a ribbon,” she whispers. “How did you know?”
My mouth is dry. “I saw a picture of you when you were young in Scott’s office and you talked about it…in the barn.”
Her words were hypnotic. “Ribbons,” she said in a whimsical voice. “I still love ribbons.”
In a dawdling, methodical movement, Beth holds out her wrist. “Put it on me.”
“I’m a guy. I don’t know how to put ribbons in a girl’s hair.”
Beth’s lips break into a smile that’s part wicked and part laughter. “Tie it on my wrist. I’m not sure if you noticed, but I’m not exactly the hair-ribbon kind of girl anymore.”
As I wrap the long strip of material around her wrist and do my best to tie an acceptable knot, I suck up the courage to ask, “Are you wowed?”
Her pause is debilitating. “Yes,” she says a little breathlessly. “I’m wowed.”
Beth offers me a rare gift: blue eyes so soft I’m reminded of the ocean, a smile so peaceful I think of heaven.
“Let’s go to dinner,” I say.
Beth’s expression grows too innocent. She bites her lower lip and my eyes narrow on those lips. I ache to taste them again. In the back of my mind, red flags rise, but I don’t care. I’d do anything to keep her looking at me like that forever.
“Actually,” she says, “I have another idea.”
* * *
Two blocks from the strip mall, we enter well-defined gang territory. I’ve heard rumors about the south side of the city, but never believed them. I thought they were urban legends created by girls at sleepovers. I’ve been on the main roads of this area a hundred times with my friends. I ate at the fast-food restaurants and shared sit-down meals with my parents. I never knew that behind the bright colors and manicured landscaping of the main strip sat tiny boxed houses and freeway overpasses littered with graffiti.
On the front stoop, Isaiah laughs with two Latino guys, then nods to my Jeep parked on the street behind his Mustang. They stop laughing. I agree. I’m not seeing an ounce of humor in this scenario. “This place is no good.”
“They’re my friends,” Beth says. “Scott ripped me away and I never got a chance to say goodbye. You can stay in the car. Just give me twenty minutes, thirty tops. And then we’ll go out. I swear.”
No way in hell is she going in there alone. I register the threat level of the neighborhood and the guys on the porch. “I can’t protect you here.”
“I’m not asking you to. You said you’d wait—”
I cut her off. “When you said you wanted to stop by and say goodbye to some friends. That guy is wearing gang colors.”
She hits the back of her head against the seat. “Ryan. I’m probably never going to see any of them again. Will you please just let me say goodbye?”
Those words, never going to see again and goodbye, are the only reasons I’m saying this. “Then I’m going in with you.”
“Fine.” She hops out and I follow. She can live under whatever delusion she wants, but she’s no safer here than I am and I’ll go down swinging before anyone hurts her. We reach the front stoop and I see that Isaiah has disappeared. Is it too much to hope that he’s called it a night? The inside of the house is smaller than I expected, and I expected cramped.
The kitchen and living room are really one room put together and separated by the angle of furniture. Teenagers sit everywhere—on the furniture, on the floor. Others lean against walls. A haze of smoke lingers in the room. Cigarette smoke. Other types of smoke.
I draw the stares of most everyone, but they continue their conversations. The guys size me up. The girls’ eyes wander to my chest. Some outright gawk lower. Beth entwines her hand with mine, then caresses her soft fingers against my cheek, enticing me to drop my head to hers.
“Stay close to me,” she whispers. “Don’t talk and don’t stare. Things will be better in the backyard.”
For days, I’ve dreamed of Beth being this close to me again, but right now I can only focus on the multiple sets of eyes watching our every movement. Beth turns, holds tighter to my fingers, and leads me through the living room and out the back door of the kitchen.
Several strings of Christmas lights hang between three trees scattered in the narrow yard. A patch of grass grows in the far corner. The rest of it is a mix of weeds and dirt. In the middle of a ring of worn lawn chairs, Isaiah talks to Noah, a redheaded girl tucked close to Noah, and one of the Latino guys from the stoop.
Noah breaks from the group when he sees Beth. She releases me and falls into his waiting arms. They whisper to one another. I don’t like how he holds on to her and don’t like how long he’s holding. That doesn’t look like brotherly love to me. I stare at his girl. Why is she so damned happy to see her guy hugging someone else?
When he lets her go, Noah extends his hand to me. “S’up.”
I take his hand and squeeze extra tight. “Nothing. You?”
The moment I squeeze, Noah grins and squeezes back. “Chill, bro. Beth says you’re good, so that makes us good.”
Beth hugs the Latino guy and laughs as he playfully talks in Spanish. “That’s Rico,” says Noah. “Relax. We’ve got your back.”
“It’s Beth I’m worried about. She shouldn’t be here.”
Noah loses the easygoing front. “No, she shouldn’t.”
Beth glances over her shoulder and flashes me that joyous smile—the one I’ve o
nly seen a handful of times.
“Is she wearing a ribbon?” Noah asks in clear disbelief.
Feeling proud, I answer, “I gave it to her.”
“Fucking wonderful,” Noah mumbles as he eyes Isaiah. “Don’t stay long.”
Noah returns to the group and pulls his girl onto a hammock strung along two posts in the ground. The hammock swings gently back and forth as they lie together. Propped up on an elbow, Noah focuses on her. “Echo, that’s Ryan. Ryan, this is my girl.”
Message received. Screw with his girl and he’ll screw with me. “Nice to meet you.”
Echo sits up, but Noah snakes an arm around her waist and drags her back down.
“Beth brought a guy who has manners,” Echo teases him. “See, it’s not so hard.”
Noah pushes her hair over her shoulder, then runs a finger along her arm. “I’ve got manners, baby.”
“No.” She swats at his hand and laughs. “You don’t.”
Disgust weaves through me as I register what I’m seeing. Scars cover Echo’s arms. I rub a hand over my face. What the hell happened to her? Noah continues to tease Echo and she continues to laugh, yet his tone as he addresses me is a menacing threat. “Stare any longer, Ryan, and I’ll kick your ass.”
“Noah,” Echo reprimands. “Don’t.”
Beth returns to me. “What did I say about staring?”
“I apologize,” I say directly to Echo.
Echo smiles. “See? Manners.”
“Come on,” says Beth. “Let’s get you a beer before you give them a good reason to kick your ass.”
BETH
I miss laughing.
Most days I can find something amusing to make my lips flinch up. Sometimes it will be funny enough to make me chuckle. But I miss laughing. Really laughing. Laughing to the point that my insides hurt, my chest aches, my face is exhausted from holding the smile.
For effect, Rico stands in the middle of the circle of lawn chairs and in slow motion reenacts how Isaiah and I kept him from being busted for underage drinking this summer by distracting a pair of cops with a very bad mime routine.
“I’m hiding in the bushes and if the police step back, they’d be on top of me. Beth’s just standing there,” Rico chokes out between laughs. “Her arm stiff at the shoulder and her forearm dangling back and forth like a pendulum. The cop asked if she needed medical help. He thought she was having a seizure.”
Everyone, including me, bursts into laugher. Rico composes himself to spit out the rest. “And she breaks her self-imposed silence and says, ‘I’m a mime, you moron. Why do you think I’ve been doing all these retarded moves?’”
Everyone laughs harder and as our group gasps for air Rico glances at Ryan. “Incluso el nino blanco se esta riendo.”
I’m not fluent in Spanish, but I know enough to pick out the words white boy and laughter. My heart shivers when I catch Ryan at the tail end of a chuckle. He’s always cute, but he’s breathtaking when he laughs.
Rico lifts his beer to his lips, then tosses it across the yard. “I’m out.”
Isaiah tips the cooler. “We’re all out, man.”
“Isaiah, help me snag some of Antonio’s stash, then we’ll hit the mota.”
Mota. Weed. The layer between my skin and muscles itches. I want a hit. More like I crave a hit—the smell surrounding me, the smoke burning my lungs, the feeling of freedom and floating. Oh God, I want more than anything to float.
Isaiah stands and Rico kicks my foot as he passes. “You’re in, right, Beth?”
It kills me to shake my head. “Curfew.”
I peek at Ryan. Does he know what mota is? The smile falls from my lips as I flip through the stories we’ve told. Oh crap, I feel sick. The drinking. The drugs. The parties. He heard it all. My stomach sways. He knows what I am.
“Beth,” says Isaiah. He waits until I look at him. “The stuff is mild. You’ll be sober by curfew.”
“Isaiah,” Noah warns.
Isaiah would never steer me wrong. If he says I’ll be sober in an hour, then I will be. He knows how much I long for weightlessness. A loud crashing noise comes from the house. I know these people. Ryan doesn’t. I can’t leave him defenseless. “No, I’m good.”
“Suit yourself.” Rico heads into the house. Isaiah stares at me and I don’t understand the gleam in his eye. Abruptly, he follows Rico.
In the hammock, Noah begins to kiss Echo. The two of them will be lost in their own world for the rest of the night and Isaiah will easily be gone ten minutes. The night has been fun, but it’s also made me the rope in a strange invisible tug-of-war. Ryan sat on one side of me. Isaiah the other. It felt weird to be next to both my best friend and the guy I really like.
Why can’t Isaiah see that we’re just friends? Friends only. I need to talk to him before I leave. I need to straighten this whole mess out. Honestly, I just need to hear him say that he didn’t mean it and that he’s still my best friend.
Ryan stands, stretches, and walks over to the tree on the opposite side of the yard. I glance over my shoulder at the house. I’ve been careful not to rub Ryan in Isaiah’s face, but I need to make sure Ryan’s okay too. Yeah, Isaiah will be gone for a while. Rico’s a slow tripper.
I follow after Ryan. “You don’t have to move for Noah and Echo’s sake.”
Hundreds of Christmas lights hang from the tree. His sun-kissed skin is beautiful under their glow. “I didn’t move because of them.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Then why did you?”
Ryan inclines his head and his eyes roam my body as if savoring the sight. “You’re beautiful when you laugh.”
Warmth blazes on my cheeks and I break eye contact. Ryan reaches out and touches me. His fingers linger on my neckline and the whisper of his caress on my skin heats my blood.
“You should laugh more,” he says.
I swallow. “Life hasn’t given me much to laugh about.”
“I could change that.” Ryan invades my personal space and every part of him connects with a part of me.
I inhale and smell the delicious scent of earth after the rain. “You smell good,” I say.
His hand glides along the curve of my spine and into my hair. Chills energize my body. “So do you. You always smell like roses.”
I giggle at the thought of me smelling sweet and bite my lip to stop the girlish reaction. “No one’s ever said that to me before.”
Ryan’s lips form that glorious smile with dimples and my blood tingles straight to my toes. This smile is for me and me alone.
“There are lots of things I want to say to you, Beth, and I want to be the first to say them to you.”
Intense hunger glazes his eyes. I’ve seen the same look on other guys, but on Ryan it’s different. That stare has more depth—more meaning—as if he’s seeing inside me.
“I want to kiss you,” he murmurs. “Do you want to kiss me?”
My heart beats faster. Oh, Ryan can kiss. I’ve stayed awake at night and replayed his lips against mine. His kisses are strong like him, possessive and demanding. Ryan said beautiful things to me in the barn and he touched me in ways I only dreamed someone could touch me. My fingers burrow into his thick hair. “Yes.”
Ryan lowers his head and I close my eyes. The anticipation of this moment creates an energy that sizzles in the autumn air. I’m going to do it. I’m going to kiss Ryan—sober.
“Fuck, Beth.” From behind me, Isaiah spits out the words.
I whirl around and barely catch sight of him bolting out the back gate into the alley. Noah falls out of the hammock and heads after him. I need to go after Isaiah, not Noah. I take several steps, but laughter from the house stops me. I can’t leave Ryan. “Noah!”
“Go home, Beth,” he says as he strides toward the alley. “Back to Grove
ton and don’t come back.”
That’s the deal we made. When we hugged and apologized to each other, Noah promised to let me stay and enjoy my evening if, when it was over, I left and never looked back. It wasn’t a hard promise to make. In a few weeks, I’ll be gone for good. “I can’t leave knowing he’s upset.” Because after tonight, I may never see him again.
“Just go,” says Noah.
“No!” I grab Noah and fling myself in front of him. “He’s mad at me. I know he gets upset when I make out with guys, but Ryan isn’t some random guy. I have to explain that to him.” I have to explain to Isaiah that he is not in love with me. “But I can’t go after Isaiah and leave Ryan here. You know what will happen if some of Rico’s friends see Ryan without you or me.”
Noah rubs his eyes. Yes, he does know. Ryan isn’t a part of our circle and is fair game for a good beating. Noah gestures for me to go after Isaiah. “Fifteen minutes, Beth. I mean it. You need to go back to Groveton and finish out your life there.”
I turn and flinch to find Ryan standing close with his hands shoved into his pockets. Hurt wounds the brown eyes that glowed with promise moments before.
“Ryan,” I stutter out. “He’s my best friend and he’s upset and…”
“Go after him.” Ryan crosses his arms over his chest. “But don’t string me along if it’s him you want.”
“What?” I shake my head. Ryan misunderstands. “Isaiah and I…we’re not like that.”
But I’m not going to waste time standing here arguing with Ryan over stupid jealousy issues when my best friend is upset. I push past Noah and run into the alley. A few steps into the darkness, strong hands grab my arms.
I suck in air to scream and I’m silenced by a familiar deep voice. “You’ve changed.” As if to prove his point, Isaiah shoves my wrist in front of my face and shows me Ryan’s pink ribbon.
“So have you. The Isaiah I knew would have run away with me and Mom when I asked. You left my mom with Trent and he broke her wrist! It’s like I don’t even know you anymore. You used to take care of me!” My pulse thuds in my ears as I shove away from Isaiah.
Dare You To--A Life Changing Teen Love Story Page 23