Because of You

by RaShelle Workman

  She’s beautiful.

  Maddie continues, “Including, but not limited to.”

  She blushes, and the shriveled mess that is my heart swells.

  “Kissing. Hickeys. Uh, touching,” I say.

  “Kyle, don’t be a perv.”

  “I’m not being pervy, just trying to cover all the bases,” I say, realizing I really want to cover all the bases, with her and no one else.

  Maddie is the best person I’ve ever known. More than beautiful, she’s kind and fun and sweet.

  “Fine.” She shakes her head. “Kissing. Hickeys. And touching.” She repeats. “Anything else?”

  “Sex, for sure.”

  Her face gets even redder. “Holy crap. I had no idea.”

  “Say it.” My body is warm, and so, so hoping she’ll agree. Never in all my eleven years have I ever felt so much for one person.

  “Sex.” Maddie covers her face with her hands. From behind her hands she clears her throat. “Repeat after me.” She peeks around her fingers. “I, Kyle Hadley, do swear never to tell anyone about this pact.” She smacks my thigh, and I grab her hand in mine.

  “I, Kyle Hadley, swear never to tell anyone about this pact.”

  She nods. Then surprises me. “When should we start practicing?”

  My heart is racing. A thickness surges in the back of my throat. “Saturday night?”

  “Okay. Just kissing though.” She smiles, her huge, dazzling smile. “Brace-face.”

  I swallow, squeeze her hand lightly. “Freckles.”

  “Frizz Head.” She smacks me in the arm.

  “Fish Lips.”

  “Hey,” she says, and laughs.

  “I’m teasing. You have the most beautiful lips…” I trail off, my eyes focused on them. I want to kiss her now. Right this second.

  As I watch her sleep, I realize the feelings I had for her at the age of eleven have grown. And I still want to kiss her. More than anything. The emotions are stronger than I ever believed possible.

  We never got the chance to practice. Her parents were killed a couple of days later, and she was gone.

  Regret momentarily bruises my chest. I didn’t keep my promises. But I know there’s no sense dwelling on it. I can’t change the past any more than I can fix it.

  I pull off my pants, slip off my shirt, and slide into bed beside her. She rolls over, facing me. Still fast asleep. I can’t help but study her, the angle of her jaw and the arch in her brows. Her long lashes. Even with smeared makeup, she’s so beautiful. One of her hands reaches out. I take it and wrap it in mine. Kiss each fingertip.

  “Maddie. Can you hear me?”

  She nods slightly.

  “I’m so glad you’re here. Please let me be a part of your life.”

  She sighs, and I can’t help it. I rub my thumb against her lips. Stroke her jaw, brush the hair off her face. The urge to kiss her is almost unbearable. But I resist. Not yet.

  I let my head fall against the pillow and close my eyes. Allow myself to relax. It dawns on me I’m content. Happy. With that knowledge comes apprehension. In my life contentment equals change. And that usually isn’t good.

  Maddie

  I wake abruptly, my head pounding. Open my eyes and push back a scream.

  Where am I?

  There’s pressure across my middle, and I look down. Even in the dark I can make out an arm. A guy’s arm. It’s resting across my stomach. I turn my head ever so slightly and see him.

  It’s Kyle. He’s lying on his stomach. Half his face buried in a pillow. Nervous dread swallows me whole.

  What have I done?

  Carefully, so carefully, I try to scoot out from under his arm. I can’t be here. I can’t. I can’t. But I have no idea where here is. I don’t remember leaving the party. Did we walk? Drive?

  Everything after the fourth Jell-O shot is wiped. Panic sets in. Did he drug me? Did we do it?

  Please, no.

  And, Gina! I ditched her again. She probably thinks I’m the worst friend. She wouldn’t be wrong. Sick horror fills my throat.

  I scoot further away.

  His hand tightens around my waist. “Don’t go,” Kyle mumbles.

  “I-How did I get here?”

  His eyes open and he lifts up onto his forearms. My eyes take hold of his defined arm muscles and the rumpled waves in his hair. His features are soft from just waking and I see the boy I love in his features.

  Oh my.

  He seems to notice where his hand is and grips my waist tighter, pulling me closer. “Nothing happened,” he says, probably reading the terrified look on my face.

  “Okay,” I answer, grateful.

  Every part of my body wants to believe he’s telling the truth. My first time is definitely something I want to remember. My heart is beating so fast I fear it’ll burst through my chest, my skin, and reveal all my secrets.

  His face shifts nearer to mine. I almost reach up and trace his jaw line, his nose, and those lips. Run my fingers through his untamed hair, down the muscles on his back, his arms, and his chest, but I hold back.

  “You asked me to kiss you.” He’s close, so close I can almost taste him.

  My face gets hot as the sun. I’m afraid I’ll burn him with my humiliation. “I’m sorry.” I peer at him. “I shouldn’t have.”

  “I can do it now if you’d like.” His voice is gruff, coursing with the desire I feel but can’t show.

  My heart is bleeding, tearing itself into pieces. I want him to kiss me. I do. More than anything. But if we were to go there, then what?

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say, looking away.

  Kyle blows out a frustrated breath, and stands. I can’t help but notice he’s in nothing but boxer-briefs. They hug his legs, his butt in all the right places. He picks up a shirt and jerks it over his head. His body fascinates me, the way his back muscles tense when he moves.

  “You should be more careful. If you’re going to go to a party, there are rules, like don’t have more than one shot and one regular drink, especially since you’re obviously such a lightweight.” He drags on his pants.

  My eyes follow his movements, but I keep quiet, too shocked that he’s scolding me to say anything in response.

  He goes on, “And for hell’s sake, never, ever leave a party by yourself with someone you don’t know. I could’ve been an axe murderer.” He shoots me a glare, his jaw tensing.

  I want to say that I know him or knew him, but whatever. I’m going along with the stupid game he’s playing.

  “You’re lucky I didn’t take advantage of you.” He runs his hands through his hair, goes over to his dresser and picks up his phone.

  I’m stupefied again. Watching him move is like hearing a heartbreaking melody. He’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.

  I swallow. His words have me boiling with shame. He’s right. Every word he said is almost the exact lecture I received from my aunt when she dropped me off at college. But what he’s too dense to see is that I already know him. I already love him. We made each other promises.

  You were children, my mind shouts.

  “I’ll take you home. You’re staying in the dorms?”

  “Yeah.”

  I untangle the sheets and climb out of his bed. I’m still in my dress. Obviously nothing happened. That says a lot about the guy. He could’ve done whatever he wanted, but he didn’t. He took care of me, kept me safe.

  “Thanks,” I add.

  “Don’t thank me yet. You left the party with me. People saw us together. Nearly every person at that party knows what happens when I leave with a girl.”

  My mouth drops open, and I think of the girls he was with in the cafeteria. The ones wearing the slut shoes. Gina said he likes kinky sex. My thoughts are spiraling into a dark place I never even imagined. Two girls. Handcuffs. Whips. I glance at Kyle. He doesn’t look like that kind of guy. But then I’m clueless. Maybe most guys like what he likes.

  Is he saying people will think I’m i
nto whatever he’s into? Ugh, it’s so frustrating. While my mind is swimming in wild thoughts, my thighs are lit up like the Fourth of July. Obviously sex is about a lot more than having babies.

  “Mind if I turn on a light?” Kyle asks, pulling me out of my contemplations.

  “No.” I can’t seem to find my shoes, or more specifically, Gina’s shoes.

  The light flickers on and I catch him staring. “So, there might be talk—about you. I’m sorry.”

  He’s apologizing? I can’t believe it. There’s no doubt that if Stuart had taken me back to his place, the scenario would be different. I might not be a virgin any longer.

  And I can’t help but think of Gina. Is that what she meant when she said she asked for it? My stomach twists and my head whirls. I have to sit back down.

  He walks over and picks up a glass full of water and two white pills. “I tried to get you to take these last night.”

  I take the glass and the pills.

  “They’re pain relievers. Nothing dangerous.” I hear the smile in his voice and look up.

  “Thanks.” I drink them down in two swallows and set the glass back on the nightstand. The water is refreshing. He’s refreshing. I don’t see or sense an evil bone in his body.

  But then Gina didn’t say he was evil, she said he was kinky. I’ve decided I’m going to ask him about it, what it means. And I open my mouth right when Kyle walks to his door. He opens it and waits for me to walk through.

  I sigh. Pick up Gina’s shoes. I’m not going to put them back on. My feet still throb.

  “So where are we?” I ask, ignoring the pounding behind my eyelids.

  His place is nice. Nothing fancy, but it isn’t disastrous. There are a few dishes in the sink. Empty beer bottles on the counter. The living room has a flat screen, a couch, and two recliners. They look worn, but definitely not trashy. There’s a half bath off the living room, and two more doors on the other side. I’m guessing behind them are bedrooms, and I wonder if he has roommates.

  We walk through the living room and he opens the front door. A gust of cold wind blasts my face, making my eyes water. I step out, but he seizes my arm.

  “Hang on.”

  I close the door against the icy early morning air and raise an eyebrow. “Did you forget your keys?”

  My uncle is forever doing that, especially since he bought a new Titan a few years ago. Now all he has to do is push a button to open the car door.

  Kyle doesn’t answer. Rushes to his bedroom.

  The kitchen has a counter with two stools underneath. So the person in the kitchen can cook and talk to everyone sitting in the living room. My aunt would say the space is functional.

  “Put this on,” Kyle says, coming back. He hands me a thick red sweatshirt.

  My eyes light up. He’s surprised me again. “Thank you, Kyle.” I pull it over my head.

  He steps closer, and gently tugs my hair from the sweatshirt opening. “It’s way too big, but it’ll cover you up, keep you warm.”

  For some reason tears fill my eyes. It shocks me. I’m not much of a crier. I can’t decide whether it’s because I’m glad or sad to find out he’s still so kind—the way I remember him.

  Either way, I can’t resist flinging myself into his chest, wrapping my arms around him. He may not know me, but I know him. I know him so well. And I’ve missed him desperately. So much so that I can’t believe I ever thought I’d be better off without him.

  “Thank you.”

  He doesn’t do anything. Just stands there. Finally, I feel his arms encircle me. And it isn’t a courtesy hug. He presses me against him. For a second I think maybe he’s remembered, but he squashes that thought.

  “You aren’t like regular girls, are you?”

  I shake my head, but don’t release him. Inhale a deep breath and pretend he knows me, and that he’s overjoyed to see me.

  I could tell him, look him in the eyes, and say, “No, I’ll never be normal. Because of your father. He killed my parents, and got away with it.”

  Suddenly my heart jumps. Does he know what his father did? I’d like to think he has no idea. But I can’t be sure. And then I remember why we can’t be together. I’ll always doubt him. Seeing his face will remind me of his father, of the evil in his family tree, and I can’t live with that.

  “I’d better go,” I say, pulling away and opening the door.

  He looks confused, but swiftly recovers. “Sure.”

  Kyle leads me to a black Jeep. Somehow I know it fits his personality—rugged, efficient, and intense. He opens the passenger door and helps me in. My uncle always said, “If a man gets your door, he’s a keeper. It’s a sign he’ll treasure you.”

  Once he’s inside, Kyle starts the car and we drive in silence. Turns out he lives off campus, though not far.

  “Which building is yours? McKinley or Irvine?”

  “Irvine,” I answer, keeping my eyes facing forward.

  He stops in front of the building and puts the Jeep in park. “Thanks for hanging out with me last night.”

  I open the door, forcing myself not to look at him. I’m so torn. I want to smile, tell him I think he’s wonderful, and ask if he wants to hang out. But my brain won’t shut up. Because even if he doesn’t know what his father did, even if he’s completely innocent, it doesn’t change the fact that he is his father’s son. I can’t forget that.

  “Thanks for taking care of me. I can’t believe I was such an idiot.” I step out. “See you in class.”

  I move to close the door.

  “Hey, you still haven’t told me your name. You owe me.” His eyes twinkle, and for a moment I think he actually knows who I am, but is pretending otherwise. “I could call you Lover Girl. You’re really, really affectionate.” He snickers.

  I blush hot as a shooting star. I try to remember what I did last night that would make his say that. He said we didn’t do anything. Didn’t even kiss.

  I almost lose my temper; tell him I don’t owe him crap. If he wanted to, he could easily figure out my name. It wouldn’t be that difficult. He’s the TA of my English class. But I decide to tell him the truth.

  “My name is Maddie. Maddie Martin.” I want to add, “Remember me now? We were next-door neighbors for eleven years. Best friends. Up until your dad shot my parents.” I don’t, though. I slam the door and walk to the building entrance.

  I swipe my keycard. The door clicks and I pull it open. His Jeep is still at the curb. I haven’t heard it pull away, and I wonder what he’s thinking.

  Is he happy?

  Surprised?

  Angry?

  I’m can’t be sure. Once again I realize a lot has happened in seven years. I really don’t know him. And as I walk to the elevators I mentally kick myself. I still haven’t noticed his shoes. They’ll tell me a lot.

  Kyle

  Even in rumpled clothes and her face smeared with makeup, she’s totally hot. When I tell her she owes me her name, her eyes light up like twin fires. Smoldering. And I have to shift in my seat. It’s crazy she can turn me on so easily.

  She tells me her name and I get the feeling she wants to say more. I almost come clean, tell her that I already knew her name—that I chose to be an ass, and that I’m sorry for teasing her. It seems to hurt her that I’ve been pretending I didn’t. But now I don’t want to tell her because I’m worried she’ll be mad.

  Maddie slams the door, and I don’t get a chance to say anything.

  I watch her walk into the building. If she had a phone I’d call her, text her, tell her the truth. Apologize and ask her to let me make it up to her.

  But she doesn’t.

  At least not yet. And I get a brilliant idea.

  Maddie

  open the door to my dorm room cautiously. No point waking up Gina. But her bed is an untidy mess of covers and she isn’t amongst them. My throat constricts and I glance at the digital clock on my nightstand. It’s four thirty in the morning.

  The party can’t still be
going, and I’m worried. Gina wrote her cell number on the white board hanging on the door, and I walk to it. Write the number on my hand, and walk out to the commons area. It’s so quiet. Not a sound, except the rattling of the vents.

  Sitting, I dial her number. It rings several times and I get her voicemail: “You’ve reached the voicemail of Gina St. James. I can’t talk to you right now because I’m out having fun, which is what you should be doing. So hang up and go party. Oh, and if you’re hard up to leave a message, do it now.”

  I smile in spite of the tension in my body. When I hear the beep, I say into the phone, “Hey Gina. I’m back in our room and you aren’t here. I’m… wondering if you’re okay.” I pause. “Sorry I left. I won’t do it again. Promise.” I hang up, frustrated and worried.

  I head down the hall and go into our room. Once the door clicks closed, I pull off Kyle’s sweatshirt and toss it on my bed. Carefully I remove Gina’s dress and hang it on a hanger. I’m not sure if she’ll want to clean it, so I don’t put it back in her closet but drape it against the door. I set her heels back in their box. The girl is very organized when it comes to clothes and shoes. Everything else, not so much.

  Gina suddenly bursts into the room. Her eyes are wild.

  I’m in my undies, and can’t help the screech that escapes my throat. She barely glances at me before falling on the bed.

  “Gina.” I grab a shirt from a drawer, and rush to her bed. “Gina,” I say again. “Are you alright?”

  She sits up and I see the rage on her face, feel it radiating off her body, through her pores—like tiny daggers, all aimed at me. “I’m fine,” she shouts. “Can’t you see I’m fine?”

  I flinch. Her breath smells of cigarettes. And she’s most definitely not fine. The top of her dress is ripped. So are her leggings. Her makeup is streaked like she’s been crying. I don’t know what to do, what to say. Her breathing is ragged, and she sniffles. Tears fall from her eyes and drip on to her tutu.

  Like an idiot I sit there, my hands in my lap, waiting. For what, I’m not sure. But I want her to know I care, that I’m here if she needs me.

  Finally, I decide to do what I did last time. I hold out a tissue. She rips it from my hand and wipes her face, blows her nose.