Knowing You_The Cursed Series Part 2

by Rebecca Donovan

  When we arrive, people are spread out everywhere. Stefan’s cabin has the more traditional feel of logs and beams with a giant stone fireplace and a wrap-around upper level with bedroom doors off of it. It’s big and open and easy to navigate, mostly because it’s one giant room with the exception of the kitchen and dining area, but even the entries leading to them are wide and expansive.

  Just about everyone is outside, for good reason. This house is on a hill overlooking the lake with a huge backyard and a set of wooden stairs between it and a private beach. The first thing I think when I see it is that it reminds me of a playground. There are people playing corn hole, lawn darts, football and bocce spread out all over the grass, and sand volleyball on the beach. It’s kind of a ridiculous setup, especially when I notice the trampoline floating on the water with people jumping on it or bouncing off into the water.

  The scent of barbecue fills the air as a guy turns food over on two huge black grills. Music is blasting through speakers on the wrap-around porch. It’s so much different from Lily’s party. It’s playful and filled with laughter and shouts of sportsmanship. There’s nothing pretentious here.

  “Let’s get a drink,” Lily suggests, leading the way back into the kitchen before I can linger too long, scanning the faces. I think I’m doing okay not thinking about him until I finally admit that I’ve never really stopped. It doesn’t mean I like what’s going on inside of me, but maybe I’ll get over it eventually.

  “Lemonade?” Lily offers, holding up a glass pitcher. “Do you want me to add vodka to it?”

  “Sure,” I reply. She hands it to me after she dumps in a shot. “Thanks.” I take a sip and nearly spit it back out.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I think it already had vodka mixed in,” I say with a body-shuddering cringe.

  “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry,” Lily says, biting her lower lip. “Do you want to dump it?”

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll add ice. Maybe it’ll water it down a little.” I scoop some ice out of a bucket in the freezer and drop it in my cup. I try to stomach a couple more sips until the initial shuddering reaction goes away. It doesn’t take long before there’s an intense swirling in my head.

  Brendan and Lance disappeared pretty much as soon as we arrived, so Lily, Ashton and I stand on the porch and take in the mayhem of lawn games before us. And that’s when I see him, playing football with a bunch of guys and girls, most running around shirtless or in bikini tops and bare feet. He’s one of the few with a shirt still on, thankfully. I watch as the ball is passed to him and he dodges hands as he runs toward the goal, tagged last minute by a girl who chooses to wrap her arms around him versus tapping him.

  A tearing pain flashes through my chest. “Fuck.”

  “What’s wrong?” Ashton asks, trying to look at what I am, but I turn around and lean my butt against the railing instead.

  “I’m just hating my body right now.”

  “Why?” Lily says like she’s offended for me. “You have one of the best bodies I’ve ever seen. Seriously.”

  “Oh, that’s not what I mean exactly. But thank you.” I’ve actually never been body conscious. I’m short, and maybe a little too top heavy for my height, but the rest of me fits into the clothes I like, so that’s all I really care about. I don’t work out other than rushing around at the diner. Well, and the boxing gym, but that wasn’t a regular thing. It was something Tori’s oldest brother, Javier, took me to every once in a while. He said if I was going to be fighting anyway, I might as well have proper form. I actually enjoyed going, to be honest.

  “Then what?” Ashton asks.

  “Forget it,” I tell her, but refuse to turn around. I need to get this under control; it’s driving me insane.

  “Hi!” I hear from the stairs. We turn to find Stefan walking up to greet us. “So happy you’re all here. Help yourself to anything. Play with whatever or whoever you want,” he says with a flirty crooked smile, “and just … be happy.” He offers each of us a hug and brief kiss on the cheek. If anyone else were to say or do this, I would think they were a creep. But there’s a genuineness to Stefan that keeps it from crossing the awkward line.

  “Thank you,” Lily says sweetly. “We promise to behave.”

  “Mostly,” Ashton adds with a smirk.

  Stefan laughs before finding more faces to greet and bodies to hug.

  “Want to go float in the lake?” Ashton offers.

  “Yes,” Lily responds enthusiastically.

  “Um, I’ll meet you down there,” I say, not ready to get wet just yet.

  The girls disappear down the sloping grass toward the water. I take a couple more gulps from my cup, barely tasting the vodka any longer, which isn’t the best sign. But maybe it’ll help me calm the hell down and act like a normal human being. And that thought lasts as long as it takes Grant to cross the lawn and hop up the steps to greet me. “You made it!”

  Damn him and his gorgeous smile.

  “Yup,” I say, my mouth winning the war with my cheeks and smiling just as big.

  “Where’s your chaperone?”

  “I actually have no idea,” I say, looking around for Lance.

  “Does that mean you can get in trouble?”

  “Is that an offer?” The corner of my mouth raises flirtatiously.

  He laughs.

  “We were about to start a game of whiffle ball. Wanna play?”

  I make a face of dread.

  “Have you ever played?”

  I shake my head.

  “We won’t judge. C’mon.” He offers his hand and I take it, my chest tightening at his touch. “Do you know the general rules? They’re pretty much the same as baseball.”

  “I think so.”

  “Then you’ll be fine.” We walk to the other end of the yard where a guy is laying down rubber bases and a large group of players wait to begin. Grant introduces me by name but leaves the individual introductions up to everyone to do themselves.

  Thankfully, I’m on his team, and we’re up to bat first. I watch the batters and plays, Grant providing a bit of insight. I’ve been forced to play softball in gym for what feels like my entire life, so I know the general concept of how to swing the bat, although I find this plastic one extremely light, and the unpredictability of the pitches impossible to hit. I get on base a couple times, earning a trumpet of cheers from my teammates. And I even make it home once when a huge guy on our team slams the ball—it’s declared a home run when it makes it past the azalea bush. The rest of our team awaits with high fives as we run across home plate, and Grant wraps his hand around mine when I slap his hand.

  “Not bad,” he says, pulling me toward him.

  “It might be the vodka,” I tell him. “Makes me better, just like playing pool. I improve with a buzz.”

  “Oh,” he says in surprise, and maybe a little disappointment. “I didn’t realize you were drinking.”

  “Are you?” I ask, his answer strikes me as odd. I know he does. I saw him with a beer at Lily’s.

  “I wasn’t, but sure, I’ll get a beer. Want another drink?”

  My cup is tipped over on the grass. There wasn’t much left in it anyway. “Please.”

  We walk back to the house, trying to stay out of the way of the other games being played.

  “This is fun,” I say, looking around.

  “You say that like you’re surprised.”

  “I’ve never been to a party like this before. I come from a kind of small city. Most people don’t have backyards.”

  “And I come from a small town where there are yards. And gossip. And status. I’ve always admired the anonymity of a city actually, even a small one.”

  “Feeling judged?” I ask light-heartedly.

  “Feeling the weight of expectation,” he says seriously, opening a cooler on the porch to pull out a bottle of beer.

  We continue into the kitchen and I look at him from across the island, pouring the vodka-lemonade from the pitcher, minus
the extra shot. “Do you feel pressured to be perfect? You kind of have a reputation for being a good guy.”

  He chuckles and his neck flushes slightly. “You say that like it’s a bad reputation to have. I actually hope that I am a good guy, but I’m far from perfect. What about you? I know you must feel the pressures of expectation being a student at Blackwood. It’s not an easy school to get into.”

  I want to laugh, and bite my tongue to keep from saying, easier than you think—all you have to is majorly screw up, or in my and Lance’s cases, cover for someone who has. “Yeah, I guess. But fuck their expectations. I’m going to do whatever I do.”

  Grant smiles wide. “Not sure I completely understand, but I like it.”

  Somewhere between Grant going to the basement for more ice and me having to use the bathroom, we lose each other for a while. I meet up with the girls who are floating in chairs on the water, choosing to sit on the dock with my feet hanging off instead of going in. Up until Lance sneaks up from behind, scoops me up and jumps off the end with me in his arms.

  I peel off my tank top and cut-offs and let them dry on the dock while I join the girls in a floaty chair. We kick water at Lance and a few other guys who playfully try to tip us over. Eventually, we make it back up to the house to grab some food when the late afternoon drifts into the evening. The kiss of the sun can be felt in the tightness of my skin, and I’m hoping it doesn’t turn into a burn despite the multiple applications of sunblock. Thankfully my jean shorts are dry from baking on the deck, and I pull them over the hot pink bikini bottoms, choosing not to cover up the strappy bikini top.

  “Receive any more love notes?” Brendan asks, sitting next to me on the blanket we laid out, while the others are loading their plates with food.

  And just when I thought I could spend a day without having to worry about who’s out to ruin me, Brendan has to remind me of my reality. “Not unless you’ve hidden one for me that I haven’t found yet.”

  “I’m telling you, it wasn’t from me,” he says, holding his hands up in innocence. “Doesn’t it concern you a little?”

  “Maybe if I knew what the hell it’s was about.” Which reminds me … “I’ll be right back.” I stand, leaving my plate of food on the blanket and walking through the house in search of my bag that I tucked under the porch on the driveway side of the house.

  Because it provides more privacy, I stay on this side when I pull the phone out of my bag and turn it on. Joey’s is the only contact listed. I think about texting, but know we really need to talk.

  He picks up on the second ring and answers like he’s been expecting me. “Hi, Lana.”

  “Hi,” I say quietly.

  “I’m glad you called,” he says, the low tone of his voice shoots right through me with a shiver. I shake it off. “I’ve been worried about you.”

  I close my eyes, fighting the urge to hang up because just hearing him speak is affecting me, and I hate it. “Where’s Vic?”

  “He’s in Europe for the summer. He left last weekend.”

  “Will he be returning to Printz-Lee?”

  “I don’t know. Are you worried?”

  “Only about Allie,” I tell him.

  “I know,” he says quietly. “Me too. She’s still in a coma.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I check every day. Lana, after you told me the truth about what happened that night, I searched the hospitals to find her. I’ve been struggling with what to do. I hate not being able to do anything to help her.”

  “Me too. But I don’t know what other choice we have until she wakes up.”

  “Let me tell my father about the convenience store.”

  “No,” I say adamantly. “Besides, that doesn’t matter now. And it won’t prove that Vic hurt Allie.”

  “But if he’s arrested for the armed robbery, he’ll be off the streets.”

  “Will he? Really?”

  “I don’t know.” I can hear the defeat in his voice.

  I sigh. “Let’s not do this, okay? I’d rather focus on Allie. She’s the one who needs us.”

  “What do we do?”

  I rub my forehead. “I don’t know. But there has to be a way to prove he did it, even if she doesn’t wake up.” The thought of her not recovering makes me nauseous.

  There’s silence on the other end.

  “He won’t hurt anyone else. I won’t let him, no matter what happens.”

  “You don’t know what he’s capable of,” I tell him, remembering the look in Vic’s eyes before he shoved Allie down the stairs. It was ruthless. He grinned at me when I screamed out, like he enjoyed it. “I can’t do this right now.” I hang up without letting him respond and shut off the phone.

  I pace the width of the driveway for a while, trying to be rid of the trembling in my hands. I go inside and pour another drink, hoping it’ll help. I shouldn’t have called Joey. Except that I needed to know that Vic wasn’t here.

  The shadows stretch across the grass as the sun begins its descent on the other side of the lake. I make my way back up the steps to the party.

  “There you are!” Ashton exclaims, throwing an arm around my shoulder when I step onto the porch. She’s drunk.

  “How did this happen?” I ask Brendan, who’s standing beside her.

  “Someone kept forgetting the lemonade already had vodka in it.” Brendan slides an arm around Ashton’s waist to shift her weight onto him. “We’re going back to campus.”

  “Oh,” I say, the sudden inebriation now making sense. “Do you have a ride?”

  “Yeah. Another Blackwood guy.” Before he guides Ashton inside, he says to me, “Don’t lose your way, Lana.” And then he leans over and sucks on Ashton’s neck, making her giggle. “Or you could always join us.”

  Just when I thought he was being a human being... I groan in disgust.

  I leave them and walk onto the grass. A guy is setting logs onto a fire that’s just started to burn in the fire pit, and a few other people are sitting around it with guitars. More gravitate toward the scene. I find a chair and pull it closer to sit and listen.

  I’m soon lost in harmonious voices singing acoustic folksy rock music, mesmerized by the flickering flames. My mind is a blur of thoughts I wish I didn’t have to think about.

  “Want to go for a swim?”

  I turn to find Grant crouched beside me. I also realize it’s dark. I have no idea when that happened.

  “Sure,” I say with a bright smile.

  He takes my hand and pulls me up from the chair, not letting go as we walk down the steps to the beach. The air is still warm, but without the sun, the water feels cooler than it did this afternoon. I shiver when we wade in.

  Grant’s strides are much longer than mine and within a few steps, he’s up to his waist and plunging under the water. He emerges, and his glistening, sleek body stops my progress. It actually stops everything. My breath. My heart. My thoughts. I stand there staring.

  “Are you coming in?” he calls, pushing off and gliding backward, his arms swinging casually over his head in smooth, long strokes. He looks like he belongs in the water, moving within it effortlessly.

  “I’m not the best swimmer,” I confess, continuing to walk out until the water is covering my chest. We’re the only ones in the water, and the voices and guitars from the party fade the further we go out.

  “Can you float on your back? We can look up at the stars.”

  “I’ve never tried it.”

  “Come here,” he says, offering me his hand. My feet lift off the sand when I reach for it, letting him pull me in deeper until I know I’m in over my head. “Lay back. I’ve got you.”

  I flip and lean back until I’m facing the sky. My feet poke out, but my butt keeps sinking. Grant has a hand on my lower back and another on my upper thighs. “Relax. Push up a little with your hips.” I adjust. “Breathe and let go.” He slowly takes his hands away, and somehow I stay afloat. “You’ve got it.”

  I ca
n barely hear him with my ears filled with water. I close my eyes and turn everything off. My thoughts. My fears. My guilt and shame. And just drift. My lips stretch into a smile when I feel his fingertips reaching for my hand, gently pulling me closer until his fingers slide between mine. I open my eyes, but I don’t look over, afraid that I’ll disturb my balance and sink. The sky is sparkling. I’ve never seen so many stars in my life and I’m in awe of it.

  I feel the water slosh against me. Grant’s other hand slides along my stomach to my waist. I tip up, realizing he’s standing, watching me. I rest my hands on his shoulders to stay afloat since we’ve drifted farther out. He grips my waist to keep me anchored to him. But there’s a distance between us, like we’re slow dancing in middle school.

  His eyes search mine, and I try to move closer, wanting there to be no distance at all. But his arms stiffen, resisting. “I really want to kiss you right now, but I can’t.”

  I know he sees the hurt cross my face. I’ve never been very good at hiding my emotions. I remove my hands and try to kick away, but he doesn’t let go.

  “I have this … promise, to myself, that I won’t do anything with a girl if either of us have been drinking. Even if it’s only a drink. Not even a kiss.”

  “Oh,” I breathe out. “That’s why you looked disappointed earlier, when I mentioned the vodka.”

  “Yeah,” he smiles. “I didn’t want to make any assumptions about what might or might not happen between us today, so I couldn’t exactly ask you not to drink, just in case. I mean, I knew what I wanted to happen, but I didn’t know if you felt the same. We hadn’t really spoken much before today.”

  “True. But yeah, I’m pretty sure I wanted the same thing you did. Damn lemonade.”

  He laughs, the water rippling around his chest.

  “So it doesn’t matter if I feel sober?”

  He shakes his head. “There shouldn’t be a gray line when it comes to consent. I never want to be a regret.”

  “Wow. You really are cursed with Integrity.”

  Grant chuckles lightly. “Cursed? I never really thought of it as a bad thing.”

  “We all are,” I tell him, wrapping my hands around his forearms.