The Way Back

by Melissa Toppen

  For once, I just want him to feel an ounce of the uncomfortableness that he makes me feel every time he's near me. Not that I have that effect on him but damn if I can't at least try.

  “What are the odds that if I go with you, I'll end up swimming back just to get away from you?” I ask, humor lacing my voice.

  “Well, I can't honestly answer that.” He laughs. “But I promise I'll be on my best behavior,” he says, drawing an X across his heart with his finger.

  “You better be, otherwise, I'll throw you overboard and you can be the one to swim back.” I turn away from him, making my way toward the boat.

  Zayne drives a good two miles off shore before killing the engine and allowing the boat to float along the gentle waves. When he finally turns to face me, I do my best to pretend like the last few minutes of silence have not been absolute torture.

  “So, Captain, what's on your mind?” I ask, plastering on a carefree smile. He stands, crossing the short distance between us to join me on the long bench that lines the back of the boat.

  I turn to face him, pulling my knees to my chest while he lounges comfortably with his arm slung over the back of the bench. His body language makes it seem like he doesn't have a care in the world, but the hardness of his face is a complete contradiction. He seems completely uneasy, which makes me feel the same.

  “I don't know what the hell is going on here, Grace, but it has to stop.” The words roll off his lips, a brief apologetic smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

  “I'm sorry, I'm confused. Is there something going on here? I wasn't aware.”

  “Don't do that,” he scolds.

  Damn it. Even irritation looks good on him.

  “Do what?” I question, playing completely oblivious to whatever he's talking about. Of course I'm not an idiot, but I’m hoping that if I play it off as nothing, then he will accept it as that.

  “Don't pretend with me. I may not know you well, but I can see through your bullshit. Your 'I'm great' routine doesn't work on me.” His words cut through me like daggers and the smile instantly falls from my face.

  “You're right, Zayne, you don't know me. So how about you stop pretending like you have even the slightest fucking clue.” My words are harsh but needed. I don't know if he really can read me that well, but I refuse to admit one damn thing to this man.

  “Fair enough.” He holds his hands out in front of him. “Look, this isn't why I asked you to come out here with me. Regardless of what you say, something has been going on between us these past few days, no matter how innocent. And then last night, well let's just say that it was probably the worst thing I could have done and for that I really am sorry.”

  “You kissed me, Zayne, it's not that big of a deal. We were drinking, I asked...it happened.” I shrug, trying my best not to look like he just delivered a severe blow to my ego. Which is exactly what he did.

  “I'm not trying to hurt your feelings, Grace, but you're Alec's little sister. That's all I can let you be.”

  “You're not hurting my feelings,” I lie. “It's fine, really.” I can feel the tears welling behind my eyes, but I fight them back. I have mastered the art of not crying.

  “I'm sorry about the way I handled it last night. I was drunker than I realized. I acted irrationally which is very out of character for me. I just don't want something like a stupid kiss to ruin my friendship with Alec. He's like a brother to me. And he loves you, Gracie, more than you realize. I hope you understand why I reacted the way I did. Alec cannot find out about any of this,” he states matter of factly, like I have no say in the matter whatsoever. Not that I would ever tell Alec but that's not the point.

  “You've made your point clear, Zayne, I got it. Big mistake, best friend's little sister and nothing more, never tell Alec. Does that about cover it?” I ask, acting completely annoyed when in reality he has hurt me far deeper than I will ever let him know.

  “There you go again.” He nudges the side of my leg with his foot. I look up to meet his gaze, confusion clear on my face. “Pretending. I've gotta admit, you're good.”

  “You're delusional, you realize this, right?” I huff, rolling my eyes. He laughs lightly but it's short-lived.

  “No, I'm just very observant. I see you, Grace, even if you don't see yourself.” His words send a chill straight through my core and I do my best not to let him see how much his words are getting to me.

  Am I that superficial?

  Can he see through me that easily?

  I refuse to believe that.

  “You seem very sure of yourself.” I stretch my legs out across the bench, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “I have a feeling you're not used to being wrong about things.”

  “I don't pretend to know everything, but this is one area where I am always right.” He mirrors my action, crossing his arms in front of himself.

  “And I’m a master at proving people wrong,” I fire back.

  “Is that a challenge?” he asks, a smile breaking across his impossibly handsome face. “Because I must warn you, I never back down from a challenge.”

  I try to fight my own smile but fail miserably. It's impossible to contain when he's looking at me like that.

  “You're impossible.” I groan, rolling my eyes for a second time.

  “I fucking hate that.” He gestures to my eye roll. I do it again just to fuck with him even more. “You're playing a very dangerous game, Miss Morgan.”

  “You say that like I care, Mr. Evans,” I spit back just as seriously and tack on another eye roll for good measure.

  Without warning, he pulls my legs hard, causing my entire body to slide down the length of the bench. He moves so quickly that I barely register his actions. One minute he's next to me, the next he's hovering over me, my arms pinned above my head.

  “You forget, your brother is my best friend. I know exactly how to make you crack.” He secures my wrist with one hand, running his free hand down my side. My entire body tenses and my breath catches in my throat.

  What the hell is he doing?

  Then he squeezes my side, hard. I buck under him, trying to shake him off as a half laugh, half scream bursts from my throat.

  “Stop! Please stop!” I plead through my laughter, but this only eggs him on more.

  I manage to get one hand free long enough for him to stop tickling me. In the process of him trying to reel in my free hand, I push my body as hard as I can to the side, trying to roll him off of me. Only problem is that it works too well and I go rolling off the side of the bench right along with him, landing directly on top of him with a hard thud.

  We both break into laughter and for a moment all the weirdness and tension melts away. I realize almost immediately that this is a side of Zayne that not many people get to see. Fun, carefree. He always seems so damn serious all the time and honestly it's intimidating as hell.

  But as the laughter dies off and the close proximity of our bodies takes hold, the tension reaches a boiling point, but it's a completely different kind of tension. The kind that has my body strung tight and yearning to feel his skin against mine. I don't even register how close our faces are until his hand clasps around the back of my neck, forcing my eyes to meet his.

  It takes everything I have not to gasp at the intensity of the deep blue eyes staring back at me. While he may claim that he doesn't feel the heat bubbling between us, his eyes tell a very different story. The way he's looking at me right now tells me everything I need to know. This man wants me just as badly as I want him.

  I'm frozen.

  My body is begging me to close the short distance between us and take his lips against mine, but my mind is fighting me every step of the way. Feeling like I might suffocate from the thickness in the air, I position my hands on either side of his head and try to lift myself up, but the hand holding my neck doesn't let me get far.

  “Zayne, I...” Before I can say anymore, he flips us, successfully pinning my body under his. The cool metal of the floor chills
my overheated skin. Zayne hovers over me, his face inches from mine. I can tell he's fighting some internal battle and from the looks of it, he's losing.

  “Fuck it,” he growls, closing the distance between us, crashing his lips down on mine.

  Within seconds, we are a mess of tangled bodies and seeking tongues. I pull his dark hair roughly through my fingers as he drags my bottom lip between his teeth, a hiss escaping his throat.

  My whole body feels electrified, every follicle frayed, every nerve ending standing to absolute attention. I have never felt anything like the fire now raging through my entire body. An intense tightening in my core causes an involuntary moan to escape my lips. I can't fight against it. The need to feel him skin to skin becomes so overwhelming, I feel like my body is ripping apart at the seams.

  Just when I feel like I can’t take anymore, Zayne abruptly pulls away and pushes to his feet. Turning his back to me, he paces in front of me while I scramble into a sitting position and try to regulate my breathing.

  “Fuck.” He runs his hands through his hair. “Fuck,” he says again, still not turning to face me.

  I push to my feet and hesitantly step toward him. The moment my hand brushes against his broad shoulder, he jumps, spinning toward me, his face riddled with a combination of desire and absolute horror.

  “Fuck, Grace. I'm so fucking sorry.” He shakes his head. “I knew better than to bring you out here. I thought maybe we could be friends. I thought maybe... Fuck, I don't know what I thought. I never meant for that... Fuck.” He throws his hands up, exasperated.

  “Is that the only word you know... Fuck?” I attempt to lighten the mood, realizing very quickly that it doesn’t work. “It's okay. I wanted you to kiss me. It's my fault too.”

  “It's not okay, Grace. None of this is okay. You are my best friend's little sister. And I almost... Shit!”

  “Stop!” I cut him off. Grabbing both sides of his face, I force his eyes to mine. “It's done. We can't change it. I promise you, Alec will never know about this.” I see him visibly relax in front of me but it doesn't completely calm the storm raging behind his eyes.

  “I can't do this. It's not right. I can't be around you anymore. You drive me out of my fucking mind. You make me say and do things that I would never do. You make me feel things I shouldn't feel. There's no way around this, Grace. I'm sorry, but I need you to stay away from me.” He pushes my hands away from his face.

  I try to speak, but I can't form any coherent words. I stand there and watch him cross the short distance of the boat before firing the engine to life. I stumble back into my seat as the boat takes off through the water, the speed increasing quickly. The case of emotional whiplash he just inflicted on me is proving impossible to grasp.

  First he brought me out here to tell me that things like last night could never happen again. Then he's joking and tickling me like we're friends. Then he's kissing me so damn hard and passionately that my lips will be feeling the burn for days, only for him to take it full circle and push me away again.

  I stew on my emotions the entire ride back. Zayne doesn't turn around to face me once and by the time we reach the dock, I have settled on one emotion. Anger. I’m angry with him for treating me like a yo-yo. I'm angry with myself for letting him. I'm pissed off that despite how angry I am, it doesn't dull the deep ache I feel in the pit of my stomach or the intense want I have for this man.

  Zayne hops off the boat the second we arrive back. Quickly tying off the rope that keeps the boat anchored to the dock, he manages to get halfway up the stairs before I have even attempted to move from my seat.

  A part of me desperately wants to go after him. The broken, weak girl inside of me wants to beg him to reconsider. To be with me, to love me, to fix me. But the strong woman inside of me, the one I let everyone believe I am, well that woman is determined not to go anywhere near Zayne Evans ever again.

  ZAYNE DISAPPEARED AFTER the incident on the boat, and when I woke up the next morning I learned that he and Alec had caught an early flight back to New York. While I tried to pretend it didn't bother me, the truth is it ate at me for the remainder of the week.

  Now, standing in the middle of my new living room, I feel a sense of freedom I didn't realize I needed. While Zayne still occupies a good portion of my thoughts on a daily basis, somehow it all seems a little less important right now.

  “Oh my god, I love it!” Emma squeals, reappearing from her bedroom at the end of the hall. “I'm gonna go check out Carv's room. Money says he snagged the biggest bedroom.” She smiles, walking to the opposite end of the hall where Carver's bedroom and the only bathroom are located.

  The apartment isn't huge but it's much larger than I had pictured. It's an open floorplan where the living room, kitchen, and dining area are all essentially one large room with only a breakfast bar separating the space. The kitchen is pretty basic. White tiled floors, cabinets and countertops with a black and silver backsplash that really makes the white pop. Three black bar stools line the breakfast bar and I have a sneaking suspicion that Carver nabbed them from the bar he worked at back in Oxford.

  The living room is pretty bare. Carver's uncle supplied us with a large wraparound black couch that has seen better days and a pretty decent size television that hangs on the main wall. Add a couple of basic glass top end stands and that's really all there is.

  I grab my suitcase and make my way to the right. The hallway goes in two directions. The right side houses my and Emma's room, while the left has Carver's room and the bathroom. My room is located directly past Em’s. At least Carv thought enough to give me the room the furthest away from the living quarters, knowing that I need quiet to write.

  I push my way through the door and am relieved to see that Carver has already set up my bed and dresser. The room's not much. A small square roughly twelve by twelve. My full size bed is crammed into the far right corner, directly next to a double window. I can't help but smile at how well Carver knows me. Sleeping next to a window has been something I have done since I was a child. I love being able to fall asleep looking up at the sky.

  My matching oak dresser and vanity are perched along the left wall, a small closet just to the right of it. Like the rest of the house, the walls are white and the carpet is a dark tan color. Carver left the rest of my stuff in boxes and for that I’m grateful. I'm a pretty private person and the last thing I want is someone going through my things, especially when I'm not around.

  “Asshat totally took the biggest room. I knew it!” Emma’s sudden appearance makes me jump. I turn to see her pouting in my doorway and can't help but laugh at her.

  “Oh shut up, Em. It is his apartment, remember? Until we can actually contribute a fair share toward the bills, I think it best that we pick our battles.”

  “Whatever. It's still not fair.” She huffs. “Guess I should go get to it. Holler if you need me,” she sings, before disappearing into her room and closing the door.

  Deciding that before I can do anything, needing to feel settled, I dive into the pile of boxes sitting on the floor. I find my wireless speaker in the first box and immediately set it up on my dresser before selecting one of my favorite albums on my phone; Mumford & Sons Babel. I crank it up, probably louder than I should. The words of “Reminder” echo off the walls of the small space.

  Singing along with every song that plays, I make my way through about half of my belongings within an hour. I let the album play on repeat, much to Emma's dislike. She doesn't understand my choice in music and would prefer Justin Timberlake to any of the artists I listen to.

  Two hours later, I’m hanging the last of my clothes and only have one box left to go through. Peeling open the top, the first thing I spot is a gaudy, silver frame that I bought at some thrift shop in Colorado when I was still in high school. I retrieve the frame and flip it over, having not remembered bringing it with me from home. The minute my eyes settle on the picture, I feel like all the air is knocked out of my body.

  Sta
ring back at me with gray eyes, shaggy brown hair, and a wide smile is Kyle. It's a picture of the two of us together but he's the focal point. Always the center of attention, Kyle had a way of making people fall in love with him. We're sitting on the tailgate of his dad's old beat up pick-up truck. His arm is draped around my shoulder and he's smiling his award winning smile at the person behind the camera while I gaze up at him with stars in my eyes. God, how I loved him. I would have followed that boy anywhere and he knew it.

  I remember the day this picture was taken. It was about six months after we started dating. I was getting ready to start my junior year of high school and Kyle was going to be a senior. It was the last week of summer and all of our friends had gotten together for a bonfire on the beach. Little did we know at the time but parking a vehicle in the sand is not the greatest idea and it took us hours to get that truck unstuck.

  I can't help but smile at the memory. Of Kyle laughing and cursing the whole time. That was a good day. I just wish I had known that less than a year later, Kyle would be gone. There's so many things I would have done differently. Moments I would have treasured more, fights I would have avoided because they weren't important. I would have memorized the way it felt to be held in his arms. The way his voice sounded when he told me he loved me.

  I never expected that a graduation party at The Gulch would turn out to be the day that forever changed my life. I remember whining the whole way there that I didn't want to go. Kyle was leaving for college in a few short weeks and I wanted to spend every moment we could together before our year of separation. Looking back now, I think I knew something wasn't right. I tried to be a good sport about it but deep down I felt really uneasy the entire time.

  “You okay?” Emma's voice pulls me from the memory, causing me to jump a little.

  “Yeah.” I don’t turn to face her. “Just thinking,” I say, reaching out to sit the photo on my bedside table. While I don't remember bringing it with me, I can't help but feel like it's here for a reason. It doesn't seem fair to hide his beautiful face inside a box. I swipe at the tears rolling down my cheeks and try to compose myself.