by Ginger Scott
“This weekend, we see glimpses of our little girl. She’s living. And I know it’s not just because of you. I give her more credit than that. But Nate, I have to thank you, because I know you’re a big part of it,” he says.
“I love her, sir,” I say, just needing him to understand how deep my feelings really are. I don’t want him thinking that I am just with Rowe because of her situation, because I feel guilty, or that I’m taking advantage.
He smiles at me and reaches for my hand, shaking it once, and covering the back with his other hand to hold it tightly. “I know you do. We can tell you really do,” he says. “We talked about this all night, Nate. And Karen…she wasn’t sure I should come talk to you this morning. But…we need your help.”
And suddenly my stomach drops again. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong with Rowe…
“Josh passed away. Just a few days ago.” As soon as he says it I know why he’s here. This will destroy her. Rowe loves me, and I know she loves me. But Josh has her heart. Not like a boyfriend, but like a memory. He has her heart trapped—trapped in that day, trapped in what they were, and trapped under a mountain of guilt over everything they weren’t.
“What do you need me to do?” I’ll do anything. Hell. And. Back.
“It’s true—about the job. And we’re selling the house and moving. But the trip? That part we made up. We were just going to take her on vacation for the holiday. But thank you for saving us from doing that. We want to be gone before she knows. It may not make sense to you, and I know I sound like the worst man on earth for doing this, but I can’t let my baby girl go back—she’ll get stuck, Nate. And I just need to make sure there’s no way for her to get back in, back into that past, when I tell her. I just need you to be there for her when I do. Because it is going to break her.”
“I understand,” I say, my skin suddenly tingling with panic. I know so much…so much more than Rowe. But it’s her life I know about. And I have to keep this new information in that other box, the one that I don’t mix with things just for her. And I am going to have to lie to her.
Tom Stanton pats me on the back, pulling his sunglasses back out of his pocket before reaching forward to shake my hand one more time. “Like I said, Nate. Karen and I are so glad Rowe met you. You’ve been good for her,” he says, stepping up a level into the stands. “They’ll be here in an hour. So, this…just between us, okay? I came out here to watch your swing.”
“Yes sir,” I say, my mouth in a hard flat smile as I push the mask over my eyes and hide how I really feel from the world.
Chapter 26
Rowe
Ever since my parents left, Nate has been different. I don’t know how to explain it—he’s still with me, still physical, and still says he loves me. But he seems to go somewhere else entirely sometimes, like he’s in the moment, our moment, and then suddenly he’s not.
“What about this one?” Cass asks, holding up a nurse’s outfit from the costume rack at the Goodwill in Oklahoma City.
“Kinda slutty,” I say with a wrinkled nose. My response gets Paige’s attention.
“Oooooh, lemme see,” Paige says, taking the naughty nurse outfit from her sister and walking over to a mirror to hold it up against her body. I’m pretty sure her boobs won’t fit in it, but then again…maybe that’s the point.
We’ve been shopping for Halloween costumes in the city for an hour. Paige’s sorority is throwing a huge party at their house off campus, and when she invited Cass and me, I actually felt excited. Maybe it’s just the idea of dressing up and pretending to be someone I’m not. Somehow, that makes it easier to be in a crowd—like hiding out in the open.
“What did you pick?” Cass asks, still sorting through the various costumes piled on the floor.
“Ghost,” I say, holding up the sheet I found for ninety-nine cents.
“That’s lame. You can’t be a ghost,” she says.
“She’s right. I’ll pretend I don’t know you if you show up in that crap,” Paige says over the curtain of the small changing room. She steps out in the nurse’s outfit, which she has crammed her tits into, and Cass and I just look at each other and try not to laugh.
“I think I’m getting it,” Paige says, pushing the halter up to make her boobs even more the main focus.
“Good call,” I say, and when Paige ducks back into the curtain to change, Cass and I let out a silent laugh.
“Okay, so not a ghost. What should I be then,” I ask, throwing the sheet back on the shelf nearby but keeping an eye on it, just in case. I watch as Cass sorts through a few more costumes and then her eyes light up.
“I got it!” She holds up what looks like an old-time woman’s baseball uniform, and it’s actually not half bad.
“Hmmmmm, maybe,” I say, walking over and holding it up in the mirror.
“You’ll need to tart it up a little,” she says, tucking the shirt into itself to show what it would look like with a crop.
“Uhhhh, I don’t think I’m at belly-shirt confidence levels yet,” I say.
“Right. Sorry, I forgot. Well, then we’ll just have to take out a few buttons at the top. And I have this really great bra you can borrow,” she says, looking the outfit over while chewing on her fingernail.
“I thought this was Paige’s thing—makeovers and dress up?” I say, wondering when Cass got so girly and creative.
“Oh, it totally is. I’m just good at sexy dress-up. I do it for Ty all the time,” she says, like it’s no big deal.
“Ohhhhh my god. I don’t need to know this.”
“What? He likes it, and we’re adults,” she says, then goes back to the pile of costumes, still looking for something to wear. I hold the outfit back up against my body one more time, pushing up my boobs, trying to imagine myself. “And I saw that!” she says. I blush, and put the outfit down in my lap.
Cass settles on a cheerleader outfit, which I thought was pretty predictable, but she seemed happy with it. We take the shuttle back to the campus and spend the rest of the afternoon getting ready for the party. I told Nate I would just meet him there since he had late afternoon workouts, and I kind of wanted to surprise him with my look, especially since he’s been acting so strange lately.
Before we left, I spent minutes standing in front of our mirror with Cass’s lacy black bra peaking out—way out—of the baseball jersey I had on. My hair was pulled into two pigtails, and black mascara smeared under each eye. Cass was right—the look was sexy, and I was going to get a lot of attention. I just wasn’t sure if I was ready—or wanted that.
Walking through campus was the hardest part, because most of the people staying at school were dressed normally, and I felt the heat of every stare from every male I passed. And while at first it made me feel a little uneasy, the more it happened, the more I sort of liked it.
“Yeeeeaaaawwwwww!” The scream was followed by a whistle; a convertible Camaro, packed with five guys, slowed as it passed us while we walked along the road. Paige was eating the attention up, even going so far as to blow kisses while the car drove by.
“If she keeps this up, they’ll make her their queen,” I say to Cass while we step up to the lawn of the sorority house.
“Are you kidding, she’s already their queen. You could be, too, in that outfit,” she says, fanning herself. I smile and put my head down, still not quite ready to believe that I’m anything hot. I may be cute, and sure, with my boobs flirting with the public in this bra, I was something to look at. But I wasn’t quite ready to label myself hot.
“Thanks, but I’ll settle for ruling Nate’s world,” I say.
“Then let the reign begin,” she smiles and spins me around, pushing me to a group of guys standing around a large bonfire. Nate’s back is to me. He’s wearing a football jersey, and the helmet is dangling in his hands.
“Rowe Stanton,” Tucker says a few feet away from me. My heart skips a beat, and not the excited kind. More of the nervous kind—of a girl who doesn’t want her boyf
riend seeing her talk to Tucker while she’s dressed like…well, like a sporty hooker.
“Tucker. Hey…” I trail off.
“You look…” he doesn’t finish his statement either, but his eyes can’t seem to make their way all the way up my body to my face.
“Like a women’s baseball player from the forties?” I try to steer clear of any compliments, but Tucker wants none of that.
“Rowe, if that’s what the girls looked like back in the women’s league days, then I’d run home right now and build myself a time machine.”
Well damn. I have to admit, that made me feel pretty nice. “Thanks,” I say, my smile tight and my face blushing.
“So, where’s that boyfriend of yours? Not sure I’m in the mood to get punched tonight,” he says, only half kidding.
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. We were sort of working through some things. We weren’t really official yet, if that makes sense,” I say, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach having this conversation.
“I’m guessing you figured things out?” he says.
“Yeah,” I laugh lightly. “Speaking of, I should go tell him I’m here. He was waiting for me.”
“Right. Well, I’m going to head inside for a refill,” he says, tipping over his empty red cup. “I’ll see you in class? I hope you’re thinking about that art history thing.”
“I am. And you will. Have a good night, Tucker,” I say, finally breathing right, now that we were separating. Unfortunately, we didn’t part quickly enough.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I hate that guy,” Nate says, walking a little past me and letting his gaze completely follow Tucker into the house. Nate finally turns to face me when Tucker’s totally out of sight. “So, what’d you end up pick—”
And now, I feel…hot.
“You like it?” I say, spinning around once slowly, but knowing fully well that it’s the four missing buttons on the front of the shirt that have him stammering for words. When he holds his hand up against his face and rubs his temple, his eyes almost bulging from his head, I start to heat up significantly.
“You are going to get a lot of attention tonight wearing that,” he says, a guilty smirk starting to spread across his lips.
“Well, I was kind of hoping one certain southern gentleman might notice me tonight,” I say, slinking up to him so the only places he has to look are my eyes and the expensive black bra.
“I think you’re pushing the limits of the word gentleman,” Nate says, not even hiding his arousal, pulling me in close to his body, dropping his helmet on the ground so he can almost touch me places he shouldn’t in public.
“That’s exactly the reaction I was hoping for,” I tease, stepping up on the tips of my toes to kiss him lightly. “I hear I’m easy when I’m drunk,” I breathe against his lips. Nate just tilts his head to the side and looks at me for a few seconds, one eyebrow raised.
“You…ever been drunk?”
“Well, not technically,” I say, my seductress side starting to fade, foolishness moving into its place. “Okay, no. Not at all.” Hanging my head, I start to back away from him, but he’s quick to pull me close again.
“It’s okay. I’m actually glad that I’m here for this. It’s one of those firsts, you know? And frankly, I wouldn’t trust you getting tipsy in an outfit like that around a bunch of assholes like the kind taking up at this party,” he says.
“But you’re at this party,” I tease.
“Yes. But Tucker the Fucker’s here, too.”
“Nate! Stop that,” I say, pushing him lightly. I’m slightly serious, but I’m also careful not to make Nate jealous, because I know how that feels—I had the same feelings when he was talking about Sadie, and I would never want to do that to him. “I’m sorry that’s how you had to meet him. He’s actually a nice guy.”
“Yeah, probably,” he says, grabbing my hand in his and pulling me up the front steps into the house. “But that doesn’t mean he has good intentions when he looks at you. Especially in that.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’m a man, too, Rowe. And my intentions? They’re nowhere near good right now. They’re not even in the same language as the word good.”
“Oh yeah? What are they, Mister Preeter?” The sexy coed once again taking over my brain and body, I take a large stride and step in front of his path, stopping him in a room full of people. Nate pushes his forehead to mine and walks us backward a few steps, his arm around my body, keeping me close.
“Come on. Let’s go get you drunk, and we’ll find out.”
Being with Nate made everything easier. I dared more, and every day I felt more and more like the person I was supposed to be—the person before everything was stolen from me. Months ago, I never would have imagined me sitting here at a table with a dozen drunken college kids, screaming out obscenities and daring the girl before me to drink more, but here I am.
When it’s my turn to play, Nate stands close, caging me in between his body and the table in front of me, his breath hot against my neck. He’s been this way all night—possessive. And I think if this were normal, I’d fight it a little. But I know he’s just making sure everyone’s clear whom I belong to. And I like belonging to him.
“Okay, here’s how it works. You take this ball,” he says, handing me a small orange Ping-Pong ball. “All you need to do is get it in that cup on the other end. Do that, and that guy down there will have to drink the beer.”
“Got it. I think I can do that. It’s what? Like, three yards away?” I hold the ball up and squint one eye, lining up my shot. “What happens if I miss?”
“He gets to toss to your cup. And if he makes his shot, you drink,” Nate says, his hands sliding to my hips until he lets go and steps back, giving me enough room to throw. “Come on, baby! You got this!”
Seems silly to have someone cheer for you in a game like this, but everyone else is yelling, too. I make the mistake of looking down, and when I do, I realize just how much beer there is in front of me. All I can really compare it to is a Coke can, and it’s bigger than a coke can. And that’s…what…twelve ounces? This is maybe sixteen…maybe more. I swallow once, and take in a deep breath, raising my arm and lining up my shot. I feel like playing the bounce might be the best way to go, so I take a few practice swings with my arm, and then finally I let one go—and rim it off the edge of the table, about two feet wide of the cup.
Well, shit.
Turning to Nate, I shrug, and when I turn back, the guy on the other end is rolling up his sleeves, readying himself for his shot. Everyone behind him is yelling “Cash! Cash! Cash! Cash!” When they do, I realize I recognize him. He’s on the team with Nate. He’s a pitcher, which means he’s probably pretty good at aiming for things. And two seconds later, my hunch is confirmed by the small orange ball that’s taunting me from the bubbles in the center of my cup.
“Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!” It feels like it takes me minutes to get up the courage to pick up the cup and bring it to my lips, but when I finally do and tip it back—feeling the sharp tang of whatever cheap beer filled it—I down it fast.
“Woooooo!” I say, lifting the open collar of my shirt up to my mouth, wiping it clean, my insides burning a little from instant alcoholic fullness. “Okay, I wanna rematch. You! Yeah—you’re not getting off that easy. Let me see you do that again!” I was feeling brave…and probably a little drunk. No, I was feeling a lot drunk. But who cares. My boyfriend was hot, and I was in college, and nothing else mattered. This. Was. Awesome!
Nate
I knew better. But she looked so damned cute when she asked for another cup of beer. And she seemed like she was holding it together well. I was careful to make sure she was pacing herself, drinking water in between. But then we started playing a game. Fucking drinking games.
Rowe might be good at hitting a ball with a racket, but she was shit at throwing a Ping-Pong ball into a cup. And by the end of the night, I was just happy she hadn’t ripped the bra from h
er body and gone skinny-dipping in the pool.
She still looked hot as hell, but I was going to have to convince her to bust that outfit out another time, because there was no way she was doing anything other than passing out or throwing up tonight. Probably both.
“Nate, your girl can’t hold her liquor,” Paige says, walking over to me with a very Jell-O-like Rowe slumped around her shoulder. “I love this girl. But if she throws up on me, I’m dropping her.”
“I got it,” I say, reaching in quickly and pulling Rowe up in my arms, keeping her body close to mine.
“Snuuuuuuuggle,” Rowe slurs, rubbing her face against my chest like a cat.
“I got ya,” I say, gearing my muscles up for the long walk home. I pass Ty and Cass while I walk through the front porch. “Hey, I’ve gotta take her home and get her to bed. We’ll be in our room, that okay?”
“Yeah, whatever. Just don’t let her puke on my bed,” Ty says, waving me off.
“Right, because it’d be a shame for something to happen to your princess sheets,” I laugh over my shoulder.
“Malibu Barbie, douchebag. Don’t disrespect!” he says, fluffing the ruffles of his tutu.
“I still can’t believe you wore that thing—over boxer briefs. Pink ones. You know, that’s going to give me nightmares,” I say, doing my best to avoid looking straight at my brother’s junk since the tutu is all fluffed up in the front of his lap.
“You hold all the power, right there in that pretty little drunk package you’re taking home. You convince her…and this one,” he says, pointing to Cass, “to give me back my Cookie, and I’ll put pants on. Until then, this is your view pal.”
“What’s…Cookie?” Cass asks, her brows tilted while she looks at Ty with suspicion.
“Yeah, yeah. Nice try, sister. But I know you’re in on this,” Ty says, making me chuckle, which stirs Rowe in my arms.