by Ginger Scott
Nate and Ty are waiting for us downstairs, and we all start walking across the street. Just as I planned, Nate dials my phone from his pocket a few seconds into our walk, and I pretend it’s my parents calling.
“Yeah, I filled that out. No, I promise I did. Uhhhg, hold on,” I say, pretending I’m having a conversation about financial forms with my mother. Nate reaches into his pocket to end the call, but I keep the phone to my ear and hold up a finger to my friends.
“Hey, guys. I’ll just meet you there in like five minutes. I have to run up and check something for my mom,” I say, turning to jog back inside quickly. I hear Ty offer to wait for me, but Paige steps right in and throws her pretend tantrum—which is so accurate to her real tantrums—and explains that she can’t be standing around campus with a bag of alcohol. I look back once I make it to the lobby, and the group has all started moving again.
Cass got a different version of the story. I knew she would be working out tonight, so I told her I would just wait for her to come home, and she and I would walk together. And somehow, all of my dominos have lined up today, because she’s back to our room right on schedule.
Her shower is fast—another trait opposite of her sister—and we’re walking over to the field maybe twenty minutes behind everyone else. I text Nate to let him know we’re coming, and I feel my pocket buzz when we get to the outfield gate.
Ty is three shots in. You better hurry!
I manage to keep Cass distracted long enough for her and me to get deep into the outfield before she notices Ty, but she freezes as soon as she does.
“Oh fuck no,” Ty says, tossing whatever was left in the cup in his hand into the grass.
“Rowe, did you know he was going to be here?” Cass looks heartbroken, and I feel sick. I shrug and start rethinking any good idea I ever thought I had. When Cass turns away and starts to leave, I grab her hand and I pull her close to me. I look Ty right in the eyes.
“No, Cass is my friend and I want her here,” I say, keeping my eyes on his—a staring contest I have no intention of losing. And I don’t.
“Fine, whatever,” Ty says, turning toward Nate to talk privately.
I’m pretty worried this isn’t going to work, but then Nate raises his arms over his head in a long stretch and yawns, and as Ty turns to look away, Nate holds both thumbs in the air and winks at me.
Drinking is the focus for the next hour. I’m careful, sipping slowly on my cup of rum and Coke that Nate mixed special for me. I’ve never been drunk. Just one more thing in that long line of rites of passage I missed during the homeschool years. The more the others do shots and play games though, the more I understand why Paige picked the sorority she did. The two girls she brought with her—I think their names are Lindsay and Angie?—could not be any more like her if they tried.
“Dude, are you sure these two aren’t your twins?” Ty asks, making a joke after we all endure a ten-minute long recap of their trip to the department store makeup counter.
“Uh, I’m pretty sure that would make them triplets, dumbass,” Nate says.
Everyone laughs—everyone, but Cass. I feel horrible, because she has sat with Nate and me for the last hour, just staring at Ty. I know she wants him to come talk to her, and when I tried to encourage her to go to him, she shot me that look that was more than a warning.
“Yeah, uh, this has been nice, but…I kinda think I’m gonna go. I have a test tomorrow…or something,” she says, brushing the small bits of grass from the back of her shorts while she stands and hands me her still-full cup.
“Oh, Cass. Please…stay?” I say, knowing she won’t.
“I…I can’t,” she says, looking over my shoulder to where Ty is busy entertaining Paige and her friends. I could kill Paige for bringing distractions.
Cass walks over to her sister and gives her a hug, and says something that makes them both laugh, and then she starts the long walk across the outfield grass.
“Well, crap,” I say to Nate, taking a bigger drink from my cup than I have all night. It makes my belly warm and burns my throat a little, like old cough medicine.
“Hold on, give it a minute,” he says, threading his fingers through mine, and pulling my body in closely against his. He nods in Ty’s direction, and I look up to see him following Cass with his eyes. Within seconds, he hands his cup back to Paige and looks over at his brother and me.
“Yo, dude. I’m taking off, too,” he says.
“Yeah you are,” Nate says, his knowing smirk taking up every bit of his face.
“Yeah, yeah,” Ty says, holding up both middle fingers.
“Holy damn. That worked!” I say, my heart speeding up with adrenaline to the point where I almost feel like running. And I might, except my head feels a little bit like it’s floating away from my body.
“Whoa, slow down there, slugger. I think you’ve had enough,” Nate says, taking the cup from my hands.
“Awe, I barely even finished one drink,” I say, seriously thirsty for more, and liking the small tingles firing away along my skin. I was buzzing for sure, but I think I was more affected by the way Nate was holding me, and the warmth of his leg and side and chest along the right half of my body.
“I know, but I just got you home. I don’t want to spend tonight watching you lose your onion burger in the dorm bathrooms,” he says, his eyes lowering to look at my lips. His breathing changes, and when his teeth tug lightly at his bottom lip, I can’t seem to stop myself from leaning in to kiss him, completely forgetting the fact that three other girls are out here with us.
As soon as my lips hit his, I’m sunk, and when his hands reach for my face, I move to my knees, sliding one leg over him so I’m straddling his lap, our lips never breaking. He sits up taller when I do this, letting his hands trail down my shoulders and arms, reaching around my waist to the back pockets of my shorts, pulling me to him even tighter.
This is desire. I have had sex exactly once in my life, and it was awkward and uncomfortable, just like a teenager’s first time should be. But that was planned and orchestrated and coordinated to go along with Josh’s parents’ work schedules. Everything running through my mind right now is impulsive, and there’s a part of me, a raw and hungry urge, that wants Nate completely.
“Good god, get a room!” Paige’s voice breaks through our kiss, and Nate pulls his lips from mine, his eyes focusing on nothing but my eyes and mouth.
“That’s probably a good idea. Ladies, I trust you can find your way home,” Nate says, standing with me wrapped around the front of his body, and quickly moving his lips back to mine. He carries me that way all the way to the ball-field gate while Paige whistles behind us. “If Ty is in my room, I am kicking him out,” he says, his voice almost a deep growl in my ear.
“If Ty is in your room, I will kick him out,” I say, moving my hands to his face and continuing our kiss once again. Nate carries me all the way to the main road across the street from our dorm building, and then he lets my body slowly slide from his until my feet touch the ground. His grip on my hand is tight, and I can feel my heartbeat in every inch of my body, the thump-thump growing faster and stronger the closer we get to Nate’s room.
Thankfully, there’s no need to kick Ty out when we get there, and Nate pushes the door closed behind us seconds after we enter, locking it before coming back to me. I tug at the long-sleeved hooded T-shirt he was wearing, and he helps me bring it over his head, quick to find my lips again once it’s off. He’s backing me toward his bed, and we’re both working to kick our shoes off, tripping over one another and laughing when our feet get tangled.
Once I feel the back of my legs rest along the edge of his mattress, I sit back, my hands resting on either side of me, waiting for Nate to push me completely on my back. But when he reaches over and presses the switch on his desk lamp, my body drains of every feeling, and panic replaces it.
“Don’t turn the light on,” I say, my voice breaking while I struggle not to completely succumb to the tears I
feel just under the surface. “I…I don’t want you to see me.”
Nate
Her voice is fucking heartbreaking, and it stops me cold. She’s the single most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, and the thought of touching her like this and not being able to see her—not just her body, but to see her face, her lips, her eyes flutter closed—is torture. But the way she asks, begs me to keep us in the dark, is about something bigger.
“You’re beautiful,” I say, stepping back enough to let my fingers graze along her cheek and chin. She leans into my palm, her head heavy as she closes her eyes.
“No, I’m not,” she says, moving back in my bed until her back is against the wall. She draws her knees into her body and brings her hands to her face next, then begins to cry.
I hate that she thinks this about herself, and I hate that she lost two years of her life to fear and obligation. But she has to understand how beautiful she is. I crawl up next to her and pull her into my lap, locking my arms around her so she has nowhere to go, and she melts into me.
This…this is what I meant when I said “I’ll wait.” I don’t need all of her, not all at once. I am willing to wait for whatever pieces she’s willing to give. And if I have to help her make each piece whole first, then so be it.
I wait. I wait while she slows her breathing down and stops her eyes from watering. I wait while she chews at the edges of her fingernails, her eyes entranced into nothingness while her mind sorts out whatever roadblock is standing in her way. I wait for her to finally look at me, breathe deeply, and tell me her secrets. And I would wait forever. But I don’t have to tonight, because she’s looking at me, trembling, but ready to face her demons.
“My body…” she starts, but pauses, moving from my arms to sit in front of me, facing me. “I live with this constant reminder of what happened. It’s…it’s why I don’t shower when everybody else does. It’s why I wear clothing that covers me just enough. And even when they’re covered…I know they’re there. I can feel them.”
She’s hugging herself again, and I’m starting to understand that this isn’t just something she does when she’s nervous. It’s something she does to remind herself of that day, of Josh—to punish herself when she feels guilty for forgetting.
“Show me,” I say, my voice almost a whisper as I keep my eyes to hers, willing her to trust me, to love me.
“You’ll think I’m ugly,” she says, the tears once again threatening to come.
“Never,” I say.
She leaves her eyes on mine for minutes, and I never break. I won’t break. And I will wait—for as long as it takes. Her squeezing of herself loosens, and eventually her hands find their way to her lap, and then the bottom of her shirt. She lifts and pulls the first layer away, but I keep my stare locked on her eyes. I don’t want her to feel frightened or ashamed, so I won’t look. Not until she tells me to. She’s still wearing a tight black tank top, but once she discards the first shirt on the floor, she begins to pull this one over her head too, her eyes telling me just how terrified she is.
Rowe is the bravest person I know. I still don’t know what it is she’s hiding from me, because I won’t look until she tells me to. But I can see this struggle playing out in her eyes while she talks to me without talking. All I can see from my periphery is the thin, black strap and lace edge of her bra, but I know other than that, her top is completely bare. Her breathing comes in fragments—almost as if she’s drowning. But I don’t stop her. I know if she had to, if she wanted to, she would stop. She’s testing herself, to see if she’s strong enough. And I have to let her see if she is.
She reaches for my hand, and I give it to her, still maintaining our gaze while she pulls my fingers close to her. She kisses my knuckles and lays her cheek along the back of my hand, closing her eyes, before she slowly moves my hand to her side until I touch her. Once my palm is flat along her skin, she places her hand on top of mine and looks back to me.
“This is me,” she shrugs. “I will have these…forever.”
I’m careful when I swallow and mindful of my breath, because I don’t want her to think I’m afraid to look at her. I don’t want her to misread a single movement I make. I reach up with my other hand and run my thumb over her cheek, drying the last of her tears, and then I let my eyes slide slowly along her shoulder and arm until I finally settle and look at the body she calls “ugly.”
The most noticeable one is deep and red—a line that runs at least eight inches along the side of her body, and I’m almost certain it’s a surgical scar. It’s surrounded by others, some small, and many deep, proof that bullets and metal did in fact penetrate her body.
She lets go of my hand, but I leave it there, careful not to move it too quickly. I can feel her eyes burning into me, just waiting for me to run. But I’m not going anywhere. I’ve never been more positive in my life of somewhere I’m supposed to be. I slide my fingers slowly over the rough skin, letting my thumb trace the long line up to the middle of her ribcage, and then I peel my hand away with caution. Her body jerks a little from losing my touch.
“Shhhhhhhhh,” I whisper, touching my fingertips to my lips to kiss them and then pressing that kiss back to her beautiful, scarred skin. When I do, she shivers, so I tilt my head and spare a glance at her face to see her eyes full of tears. I lean forward and kiss them away, and pull her head to my lips, carefully working her body back along the bed until she’s lying beneath me.
I hover over her, kissing her neck first, then the line along the strap of her bra. Her body rises up, arching into me when I come to the rounding of her breast, and I savor the moment, and let her just feel human—her body, for just the slightest instant, reacting to her needs and desires instead of her fears.
I kiss along the soft material of her bra, letting my lips and cheek feel the peaks of her nipples beneath, and I let my hot breath soften them before I continue to kiss between each, slowly inching my way down her body until I feel her tense up at my arrival at her scars.
“Beautiful. Every. Single. Part of you,” I say, letting my lips fall to the long callused line first, taking note when her breath hitches. I continue to glide my hand along each mark, covering each with a kiss before moving on to the next, until I have cherished every inch of her.
When I come back to her face, her cheeks are sopping wet with tears, and she’s no longer trying to hold in her emotions. Reaching my hands deep into her hair, I bring her forehead to my mouth, and I hold her against my lips. And again, I wait while she quivers and breathes—deep, labored breaths in between sobs—until her body calms, and eventually she’s sleeping.
This…is love.
Chapter 20
Rowe
Waking up in Nate’s arms was like beginning a brand new life. In the last two years, I’ve gone to bed without the aid of sleeping medication only a handful of times. Usually, I’m sick with something like the flu and that’s why I can’t take my medicine. But not when I’m with Nate. He’s my placebo.
He was staring at me when my eyes finally focused. He said he had only been awake for a few minutes, but I have a feeling he had been looking at me for longer than that. I didn’t get to shower at all yesterday, and I feel a little grimy now because of it. But I also don’t want to wash away Nate’s kisses. I know it seems juvenile—the thought of actually savoring a kiss. But I want to.
I slipped back into my room before class and was able to dress in the closet without waking Cass and Ty. I watched them sleep for a few seconds, satisfied at my good work, and then jogged to my first class, making it there right on time.
Next semester I was going to have to rethink how I organize my classes, because having philosophy this early in the morning is a challenge. My brain isn’t ready to think this hard, and I’m pretty confident that I am going to fail the quiz I just turned in. I have learned one thing from this two-hour block class I take every Monday and Wednesday—I am not going to major in philosophy. I like it, bending my brain and forcing it to think about
things differently, to see reasons behind actions. But it doesn’t feel like something I want to do forever. But art—not necessarily the making of, but the appreciating of—that was something that I needed to explore more.
My mind has clearly wandered, because when the desks start shifting and my classmates start standing to leave the lecture hall, I snap from a trance. Yeah, this is another chapter I’m going to have to read twice having missed every word of today’s lecture.
I’m the last to make it out of the class, and when I see Nate sitting along the small wall by the bike rack waiting for me, there’s worry on his face. But when he finally sees me, he kicks away from the wall and comes my way with long strides, kissing me the second he’s close enough.
“Are you okay? You looked upset?” I ask, my inner voice falling into its natural pattern of doubt and self-loathing. Of course I think he’s regretting last night, rethinking what he saw and how he feels, but I’m quick to tamp those feelings down. They ruled my life for way too long, and I’m not letting them ruin this.
“I just didn’t see you. Got worried, that’s all,” he says, completely capturing me all at once.
“What’s this?” I point to the paper bag in his hand that looks to be saturated with grease. Nate just grins, his dimples deep when his eyebrows move up and down.
“Lunch.”
“You brought me lunch?”
“Yeah, well, you packed that sad little lunch the other day when I found you eating before your art class, so I thought I’d surprise you. I don’t have to be to algebra for a while yet,” Nate says, grabbing my hand and pulling me with him until we’re nestled between two trees in an area of the park where I can see everything.
I know what it is the second he rips open the bag, and my mouth begins to water for the Sally’s burger. He also filled the bag with fries, and I start stuffing my mouth with those before he even has a chance to unwrap our burgers.