I give both Breckin and Max a hug in the parking lot of the gallery. The gallery showing has ended and Holder and I are going back to his place. I know I should be nervous about what might happen between us tonight, but I’m not nervous at all. Everything with him feels right. Well, everything except the phrase that keeps repeating over and over in my head.
I love you, Hope.
I want to ask him about it, but I can’t find the right moment. The gallery showing certainly wasn’t the place to bring it up. Now seems like a good time, but every time I open my mouth to do it, I clamp it shut again. I think I’m more afraid of who she is and what she means to him than I am of actually working up the nerve to bring it up. The longer I put off asking him about it, the longer I have before I’m forced to learn the truth.
“You want to grab something to eat?” he asks, pulling out of the parking lot.
“Yeah,” I say quickly, relieved that he interrupted my thoughts. “A cheeseburger sounds good. And cheese fries. And I want a chocolate milkshake.”
He laughs and takes my hand in his. “A little demanding are we, Princess?”
I let go of his hand and turn to face him. “Don’t call me that,” I snap.
He glances at me and can more than likely see the anger on my face, even in the dark.
“Hey,” he says soothingly, picking up my hand again. “I don’t think you’re demanding, Sky. It was a joke.”
I shake my head. “Not demanding. Don’t call me princess. I hate that word.”
He gives me a sidelong glance, then shifts his eyes back to the road. “Okay.”
I turn my gaze out the window, trying to get the word out of my head. I don’t know why I hate nicknames so much, but I do. And I know I overreacted just now, but he can never call me that again. He also shouldn’t call me by the name of any of his ex-girlfriend’s either. He should just stick to Sky…it’s much safer.
We drive in complete silence and I become increasingly more regretful for reacting like I did. If anything, I should be more upset by the fact that he called me by another girl’s name than by referring to me as Princess. It’s almost like I’m displacing my anger because I’m too afraid to bring up what’s really bothering me. Honestly, I just want a drama-free night with him tonight. There’ll be plenty of time to ask him about Hope another day.
“I’m sorry, Holder.”
He squeezes my hand and pulls it onto his lap, but doesn’t say anything else.
When we pull into his driveway, I get out of the car. We never did stop for food, but I don’t even feel like bringing it up now. He meets me at the passenger door and wraps his arms around me and I hug him back. He walks me until my back is against the car and I press my head to his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. The awkwardness from the drive here still lingers, so I attempt to ease myself against him in a relaxing way to let him know I’m not thinking about it. He’s lightly stroking his fingers up and down my arms, covering me in chills.
“Can I ask you something?” he says.
“Always.”
He sighs, then pulls back and looks at me. “Did I freak you out Monday? In my car? If I did, I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I’m not a pussy, I swear. I haven’t cried since Les died, and I sure as hell didn’t mean to do it in front of you.”
I lean my head into his chest again and hug him tighter. “You know last night when I woke up after that dream?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s the second time I’ve cried since I was five. The only other time I cried was when you told me about what happened to your sister. I cried when I was in the bathroom. It was just one tear, but it counts. I think when we’re together, maybe our emotions become a little overwhelming and it turns us both into pussies.”
He laughs and kisses me on top of the head. “I have a feeling I won’t be living you for much longer.” He gives me another quick kiss, then takes my hand. “Ready for the grand tour?”
I follow him toward his house, but I’m still stuck on the fact that he just told me he’s about to stop living me. If he stops living me, that means he’ll be loving me. He just confessed that he’s falling in love with me without actually saying it. The most shocking thing about his confession is that I really liked it.
We walk inside and the house is nothing like I expected. It doesn’t seem very big from the outside, but there’s a foyer. Normal houses don’t have foyers. There’s an archway to the right that leads to a living room. The entire walls are covered in nothing but books, and I feel like I’ve just died and gone to heaven. “Wow,” I say, eyeing the bookshelves in the living room. Books are stacked on shelves from floor to ceiling on every single wall.
“Yeah,” he says. “Mom was pretty pissed when they invented the e-reader.”
I laugh. “I think I already like your mom. When do I get to meet her?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t introduce girls to my mother.” His voice is as detached as his words, and as soon as he says it, his expression drops and he knows he’s just hurt my feelings. He walks swiftly to me and takes my face in his hands. “No, no. That’s not what I meant. I’m not saying you’re anything like the other girls I’ve dated. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”
I hear what he’s saying, but we’ve been dating as long as we have and he still isn’t convinced it’s real enough for me to meet his mother? I wonder if we’ll ever be real enough to him for me to meet his mother.
“Did Hope get to meet her?” I know I shouldn’t have said it, but I couldn’t keep it in any longer. Especially now, hearing him say “other girls.” I’m not delusional; I know he dated other people before he met me. I just don’t like hearing him say it. Much less calling me by their names.
“What?” he asks, dropping his hands. He’s backing away from me. “Why did you say that?” The color is draining from his face and I immediately regret saying it.
“Never mind. It’s nothing. I don’t have to meet your mom.” I just want whatever this is to pass. I knew I wouldn’t feel like talking about it tonight. I want to get back to the house tour and forget this conversation ever happened.
He grabs my hands and says it again. “Why would you say that, Sky? Why did you say that name?”
I shake my head. “It’s not that big of a deal. You were drunk.”
He narrows his eyes at me and it’s clear I’m not escaping this conversation. I sigh and reluctantly give in, clearing my throat before I speak.
“Last night when you were falling asleep…you told me you loved me. But you called me Hope, so you weren’t really talking to me. You’d been drinking and you were half asleep, so I don’t need an explanation. I don’t know if I really even want to know why you said it.”
He brings his hands to his hair and groans. “Sky.” He steps forward, taking me in his arms. “I’m so sorry. It must have been a stupid dream. I don’t even know anyone named Hope and I’ve definitely never had an ex-girlfriend by that name if that’s what you were thinking. I’m so sorry that happened. I should have never gone to your house drunk.” He looks down at me and as much as my instincts are telling me he’s lying, his eyes are completely sincere. “You have to believe me. It’ll kill me if you think for a second that I feel anything at all for someone else. I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”
Every word coming from his mouth is dripping with sincerity and honesty. Considering I can’t even remember why I woke up crying, it’s possible his sleep talking really was the result of a random dream. And hearing everything he just said to me puts into perspective just how serious things are becoming between us.
I look up at him, attempting to prepare some sort of response to everything he just said. I part my lips and wait for the words to come, but they don’t. I’m suddenly the one needing more time to process my thoughts.
He’s cupping my cheeks, waiting for me to break the silence between us. The proximity of his mouth to mine weathers his patience. “I need to kiss you,” he says apologetically, pulling my face to his. We’re still standing in the foyer, but he somehow picks me up effortlessly and sets me down on the stairs leading to the upstairs bedrooms. I lean back and he returns his lips to mine, his hands gripping the wooden steps on either side of my head.
Due to our position, he’s forced to lower a knee between my thighs. It isn’t that big of a deal unless you take into consideration the dress that I have on. It would be so easy for him to take me right here on the stairs, but I’m hoping we at least make it to his room first before he tries. I wonder if he’s expecting anything, especially after the text I accidentally sent him. He’s a guy, of course he’s expecting something. I wonder if he knows I’m a virgin. Should I even tell him I’m a virgin? I should. He’ll probably be able to tell.
“I’m a virgin,” I blurt against his mouth. I immediately wonder what the hell I’m doing even speaking aloud right now. I shouldn’t be allowed to speak ever again. Someone should strip me of my voice, because I obviously have no filter when my sexual guard is down.
He immediately stops kissing me. He slowly backs his face away from mine and looks down into my eyes. “Sky,” he says directly. “I’m kissing you because sometimes I can’t not kiss you. You know what your mouth does to me. I’m not expecting anything else, okay? As long as I get to kiss you, the other stuff can wait.” He’s tucking my hair behind my ears now and looking down at me genuinely.
“I just thought you should know. I probably should have picked a better time to state that fact, but sometimes I just blurt things out without thinking. It’s a really bad trait and I hate it because I do it at the most inopportune moments and it’s embarrassing. Like right now.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “No, don’t stop doing that. I love it when you blurt things out without thinking. And I love it when you spout off long, nervous, ridiculous rants. It’s kind of hot.”
I blush. Being called hot is seriously…hot.
“You know what else is hot?” he says, leaning back in to me again.
The playfulness in his expression chips away at my embarrassment. “What?”
He grins. “Trying to keep our hands off each other while we watch a movie.” He stands up and pulls me to my feet, then leads me up the stairs to his room.
He opens the door and walks in first, then turns around and tells me to close my eyes. I roll them, instead.
“I don’t like surprises,” I say.
“You also don’t like presents and certain common terms of endearment. I’m learning. But this is just something cool I want to show you—it’s not anything I bought you. So deal with it and shut your eyes.”
I do what he says and he pulls me forward into the room. I already love it in here because it smells just like him. He walks me a few steps, then places his hands on my shoulders. “Sit,” he says, pushing me down. I take a seat on what feels like a bed, then I’m suddenly flat on my back and he’s lifting up my feet. “Keep your eyes closed.”
I feel him pulling my feet onto the bed and propping me up against a pillow. His hand grabs the hem of my sundress and he pulls it down, making sure it stays in place. “Gotta keep you covered up. Can’t be flashing me thigh when you’re on your back like that.”
I laugh, but I keep my eyes closed. He’s suddenly crawling over me, careful not to knee me. I can feel him positioning himself next to me on his pillow. “Okay. Open your eyes and prepare to be wowed.”
I’m scared. I slowly pry my eyes open. I hesitate to guess what I’m looking at, because I almost think it’s a TV. But TV’s don’t usually take up eighty inches of wall space. This thing is ginormous. He points a remote at it and the screen lights up.
“Wow,” I say, impressed. “It’s huge.”
“That’s what she said.”
I elbow him in the side and he laughs. He points the remote back up to the TV. “What’s your favorite movie ever? I have Netflix.”
I tilt my head in his direction. “Net what?”
He laughs and shakes his head in disappointment. “I keep forgetting you’re technologically challenged. It’s similar to an e-reader, only with movies and television shows instead of books. You can watch pretty much anything at the push of a button.”
“Are there commercials?”
“Nope,” he says proudly. “So what’ll it be?”
“Do you have The Jerk? I love that movie.”
His arm falls to his chest and he clicks the power button and turns off the TV. He’s silent for several long seconds, then he sighs forcefully. He leans over and sets the remote down on his nightstand, then rolls over and faces me. “I don’t want to watch TV anymore.”
He’s pouting? What the hell did I say?
“Fine. We don’t have to watch The Jerk. Pick something else out, you big baby,” I laugh.
He doesn’t respond for a few moments while he continues staring at me inexpressively. He lifts his hand and runs it across my stomach and around to my waist, then grips me tightly and pulls me against him. “You know,” he says, narrowing his eyes as he meticulously rakes them down my body. He traces the pattern of my dress with a finger, delicately stroking over my stomach. “I can handle what this dress does to me.” He lifts his eyes from my stomach, back up to my mouth. “I can even handle having to constantly stare at your lips, even when I don’t get to kiss them. I can handle the sound of your laughter and how it makes me want to cover your mouth with mine and drink it all in.”
His mouth is closing in on mine, and the way his voice has dropped into some sort of lyrical, god-like octave makes my heart pummel within my chest. He lowers his lips to my cheek and lightly kisses it, his warm breath colliding with my skin when he speaks. “I can even handle the millions of times I’ve replayed our first kiss over and over in my head this past month. The way you felt. The way you sounded. The way you looked up at me right before my lips met yours.”
He rolls himself on top of me and brings my arms above my head, clasping them in his hands. I’m hanging on to every single word he’s saying, not wanting to miss a single second of whatever it is he’s doing right now. He straddles me, holding his weight up with his knees. “But what I can’t handle, Sky? What drives me crazy and makes me want to put my hands and my mouth all over every single inch of you? It’s the fact that you just said The Jerk is your favorite movie ever. Now that?” He drops his mouth to mine until our lips are touching. “That’s incredibly fucking hot and I’m pretty sure we need to make out now.”
His playfulness makes me laugh and I whisper seductively against his lips. “He hates these cans.”
He groans and kisses me, then pulls away. “Do it again. Please. Hearing you talk in movie quotes is so much hotter than kissing you.”
I laugh and give him another quote. “Stay away from the cans!”
He groans playfully in my ear. “That’s my girl. One more. Do one more.”
“That’s all I need,” I say teasingly. “The ashtray, this paddle game, and the remote control, and the lamp…and that’s all I need. I don’t need one other thing, not one.”
He’s laughing loudly now. As many times as Six and I stayed up watching this movie, he’ll be surprised to know there’s a lot more where those came from.
“That’s all you need?” Holder quips. “Are you sure about that, Sky?” His voice is smooth and seductive and if I was standing up right now, my panties would without a doubt be on the floor.
I shake my head and my smile fades. “You,” I whisper. “I need the lamp and the ashtray and the paddle game and the remote control…and you. That’s all I need.”
He laughs, but his laugh quickly fades once his eyes drop to my mouth again. He scrutinizes it, more than likely mapping out just what he’s about to do with it for the next hour. “I need to kiss you now.” His mouth collides with mine and for this moment, he really is all I need.
He’s propped up on his hands and knees, kissing me fiercely, but I need him to drop himself on top of me. My hands are still locked above my head and my mouth is useless to form words when he’s teasing it like he is. The only thing I can do is lift my foot up and kick his knee out from under him, so that’s what I do.
The second his body falls against mine, I gasp. Loudly. I hadn’t taken into consideration that when I lifted my leg, it would also push the hem of my dress up. Way up. Couple that with the hard denim of his jeans and you have a pretty gasp-worthy combination.
“Holy shit, Sky,” he says between breathless moments of completely ravishing my mouth with his. He’s winded already and we haven’t even been at it more than a minute. “God, you feel incredible. Thank you for wearing this dress.” He’s kissing me, sporadically muttering into my mouth. “I really…” He kisses my mouth, then runs his lips down my chin and halfway down my neck. “I really like it. Your dress.” He’s breathing so heavily now, I can barely make out the mumbling coming from him. He scoots slightly further down on the bed until his lips are kissing the base of my throat. I tilt my head back to give him plenty of access, because his lips are more than welcome anywhere on me right now. He releases his grip on my hands so he can lower his mouth closer to my chest. One of his hands drops to my thigh, and he slowly runs it upward, pushing away what’s left of the dress covering my legs. When he reaches the top of my thigh, he stills his hand and squeezes tightly, as if he’s silently demanding his fingers not to venture any further.
I twist my body beneath his, hoping he’ll get the hint that I’m attempting to direct his hand to keep going wherever it wants to go. I don’t want him to second-guess himself or think for a second that I’m hesitant to go any further. I just want him to do whatever it is he wants to do, because I need him to. I need him to conquer as many firsts as he can tonight, because I’m suddenly feeling greedy and I want us to pass them all.
He takes my physical cues and inches his hand closer to my inner thigh. The anticipation of him touching me alone is enough to cause every muscle from the waist down to clench. His lips have finally made their way past the base of my throat and down to the rise in my chest. I feel like the next step is for him to remove the dress completely so he can get to what’s underneath it, but that would require his other hand, and I really like it where it is. I’d like it a little more if it were a few inches further, but I absolutely don’t want it further away.
I bring my hands to his face and force him to kiss me harder, then drop my hands to his back.
He’s still wearing a shirt.
This isn’t good.
I reach around to his stomach and pull his shirt up over his head, but I don’t realize when I do, that it also causes him to move his hand off of my thigh. I may have whimpered a little, because he grins and kisses the corner of my mouth.
We keep our gaze locked and he gently strokes my face with his fingertips, trailing over every part of it. He never looks away and he keeps his eyes locked on mine, even when he dips his head to plant kisses around the edges of my lips. The way he looks at me makes me feel…I try to search for an adjective to follow up that thought, but I can’t find one. He just makes me feel. He’s the only boy that’s ever cared whether or not I’m feeling anything at all, and for that alone, I let him steal another small piece of my heart. But it doesn’t feel like enough, because I unexpectedly want to give it all to him.
“Holder,” I breathe. He slides his hands up my waist and moves closer to me.
“Sky,” he says, mimicking my tone. His mouth reaches my lips and he slips his tongue inside. It’s sweet and warm and I know it hasn’t been very long since I last tasted it, but I’ve missed it. His hands are on either side of my head and he’s being careful not to touch me with any part of his hands or his body now. Only his mouth.
“Holder,” I mumble, pulling away. I bring my hand to his cheek. “I want to. Tonight. Right now.”
His expression doesn’t change. He stares at me like he didn’t hear me. Maybe he didn’t hear me, because he certainly isn’t taking me up on the offer.
“Sky…” His voice is full of hesitation. “We don’t have to. I want you to be absolutely positive it’s what you want. Okay?” He’s caressing my cheek now. “I don’t want to rush you into anything.”
“I know that. But I’m telling you I want this. I’ve never wanted it with anyone before, but I want it with you.”
His eyes are trained on mine and he’s soaking in every single word I’ve said. He’s either in denial or shock, neither of which are helping my cause. I take both of my hands and place them on his cheeks, then pull his lips in close to mine. “This isn’t me saying yes, Holder. This is me saying please.”
With that, his lips crash to mine and he groans. Hearing that sound come from deep within his chest further solidifies my decision. I need him and I need him now.
“We’re really doing this?” he says into my mouth, still kissing me frantically.
“Yes. We’re really doing this. I’ve never been more positive of anything in my life.”
His hand slips up my thigh and he slips his hand between my hip and my panties, then begins to slide them down.
“I just need you to promise me one thing first,” I say.
He kisses me softly, then pulls his hand away from my underwear (dammit) and nods. “Anything, baby.”
I grab his hand and put it right back where it was on my hip. “I want to do this, but only if you promise we’ll break the record for the best first time in the history of first times.”
He grins down at me. “When it’s you and me, Sky…it’ll never be anything less.”
He snakes his arm underneath my back and pulls me up with him. His hands move to my arms and he hooks his fingers underneath the thin straps of my dress, sliding them off my shoulders. I close my eyes tightly and press my cheek to his, fisting my hands in his hair. I can feel his breath meet my shoulder before his lips do. He barely kisses it, but it’s as if he touches and ignites every part of me from the inside out with that one kiss.
“I’m taking it off.” My eyes are still closed and I’m not sure if he’s telling me or asking my permission to remove the dress, but I nod anyway. He lifts my dress up and over my head—my bare skin prickling beneath his touch. He gently lays me back against my pillow and I open my eyes, looking up at him, admiring just how incredibly beautiful he really is. After regarding me intensely for several seconds, he drops his gaze to his hand that’s curved around my waist.
He slowly moves his eyes up and down my body. “Holy shit, Sky.” He runs his hand over my stomach, then leans down and kisses it softly. “You’re incredible.”
I’ve never been this exposed in front of someone before, but the way he’s admiring me only makes me want to be this exposed. He slides his hand up to my bra and grazes his thumb just underneath it—causing my lips to part and my eyes to close again.
Oh my, God, I want him. Really, really bad.
I grab his face and pull it to mine, locking my legs around his hips. He groans and slips his hand away from my bra and down to my waist again. He slides my panties down my thighs, forcing me to unlock my legs and let him take them off completely. My bra is quick to follow and once all of my clothes have been removed, he scoots his legs off the bed and halfway stands up, leaning over me. I’ve still got hold of his face and we’re still frantically kissing while he removes his pants, then climbs back onto the bed with me, lowering himself on top of me. We’re skin to skin now for the first time, so close that air couldn’t even pass between us, yet it still feels like we aren’t near close enough. He reaches across the mattress and his hand fumbles over the nightstand. He removes a condom out of the drawer, then lays it down on the bed, lowering himself on top of me again. The hardness and weight of him forces my legs further apart. I wince when I realize the anticipation in my stomach is suddenly turning into dread.
And nausea.
And fear.
My heart is racing and my breaths begin to come in short gasps. Tears sting at my eyes as his hand moves around beside us on the bed, searching for the condom. He finds it and I hear him open it, but I’m squeezing my eyes shut. I can feel him pull back and lift up onto his knees. I know he’s putting it on and I know what comes next. I know how it feels and I know how much it hurts and I know how it’ll make me cry when it’s over.
But how do I know? How do I know if I’ve never done this before?
My lips begin to tremble when he positions himself between my legs again. I try to think of something to take away the fear, so I visualize the sky and the stars and how beautiful it all is, attempting to ease my panic. If I remind myself that the sky is beautiful no matter what, I can think about that and forget how ugly this is. I don’t want to open my eyes, so I just count silently inside my head. I visualize the stars above my bed and I start from the bottom of the cluster, working my way up.
One, two, three…
I count and I count and I count.
Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four…
I hold my breath and focus, focus, focus on the stars.
Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine…
I want him to be done already. I just want him off of me.
Seventy-one, seventy-two, seventy-
“Dammit, Sky!” Holder yells. He’s pulling my arm away from my eyes. I don’t want him to make me look, so I hold my arm tighter against my face so everything will stay dark and I can keep silently counting.
All of the sudden, my back is being lifted up in the air and I’m not against the pillow anymore. My arms are limp and his are wrapped tightly around me, but I can’t move. My arms are too weak and I’m sobbing too hard. I’m crying so hard and he’s moving me and I don’t know why so I open my eyes. I’m going back and forth and back and forth and for a second, I panic and squeeze my eyes shut, thinking he’s not finished. But I can feel the covers around me and his arm is squeezing my back and he’s soothing my hair with his hand, whispering in my ear.
“Baby, it’s okay.” He’s pressing his lips into my hair, rocking me back and forth with him. I open my eyes again and tears are clouding my vision. “I’m sorry, Sky. I’m so sorry.”
He’s kissing the side of my head over and over while he rocks me, telling me he’s sorry. He’s apologizing for something. Something he wants me to forgive him for this time.
He pulls back and sees that my eyes are open. His eyes are red but I don’t see any tears. He’s shaking though. Or maybe it’s me who’s shaking. I think we’re both shaking.
He’s looking into my eyes, searching for something. Searching for me. I begin to relax in his arms, because when his arms are wrapped around me, I don’t feel like I’m falling off the edge of the earth. “What happened?” I ask him. I don’t understand where this is coming from.
He shakes his head, his eyes full of sorrow and fear and regret. “I don’t know. You just started counting and crying and shaking and I kept trying to get you to stop, Sky. You wouldn’t stop. You were terrified. What did I do? Tell me baby, because I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry. What the fuck did I do?”
I just shake my head because I don’t have an answer.
He grimaces and drops his forehead to mine. “I’m so sorry. I never should have let it go that far. I don’t know what the hell just happened, but you’re not ready yet, okay?”
I’m not ready yet?
“So we didn’t…we didn’t have sex?”
His hands loosen around me and I can feel his whole demeanor shift. The look in his eyes is nothing but loss and defeat. His eyebrows draw apart and he frowns, cupping my cheeks. “Where’d you go, Sky?”
I shake my head, confused. “I’m right here. I’m listening.”
“No, I mean earlier. Where’d you go? You weren’t here with me because no, nothing happened. I could see on your face that something was wrong, so I didn’t do it. But now you need to think long and hard about where you were inside that head of yours, because you were panicked. You were hysterical and I need to know what it was that took you there so I can make sure you never go back.”
He kisses me on the forehead and releases his hold from around my back. He stands up and pulls his jeans on, then picks up my dress. He shakes it out, then flips it over until it slides down his hands, then he walks toward me and puts it on over my head. He lifts my arms and helps me slide them into the dress, then he pulls it down over my waist, covering me. “I’ll go get you some water. I’ll be right back.” He kisses me tentatively on the lips, almost as if he’s scared to touch me again. After he walks out of the room, I lean my head against the wall and close my eyes.
I have no idea what just happened, but the fear of losing him because of it is a valid one. I just took one of the most intimate things imaginable, and I turned it into a disaster. I made him feel worthless, like he did something wrong and now he feels bad for me because of it. He probably wants me to leave, and I don’t blame him. I don’t blame him a bit. I want to run away from me, too.
I throw the covers off and stand up, then pull my dress down. I don’t even bother looking for my underwear. I need to find the bathroom and get myself together so he can take me home. This is twice this weekend that I’ve been deduced to tears and I don’t even know why—and twice that he’s had to save me. I’m not doing it to him again.
When I pass the stairs looking for the restroom, I glance down over the railing into the kitchen. He’s leaning forward with his elbows on the bar and his face buried in his hands. He’s just standing there, looking miserable and upset. I can’t watch him anymore, so I open the first door to my right, assuming it’s the bathroom.
It’s not.
It’s Lesslie’s bedroom. I start to pull the door shut, but I don’t. Instead, I open it wider and slip inside, then shut it behind me. I don’t care if I’m in a bathroom, a bedroom or a closet…I just need peace and quiet. Time to regroup from whatever the hell is going on with me. I’m beginning to think that maybe I am crazy. I’ve never spaced out that severely before and it terrifies me. My hands are still shaking, so I clasp them together in front of me and try to focus on something else in order to calm myself down.
I take in my surroundings and find the bedroom to be somewhat disturbing. The bed isn’t made, which strikes me as odd. Holder’s entire house is spotless, but Lesslie’s bed isn’t made. There’s a pair of jeans in the middle of the floor and it looks like she just stepped out of them. I look around at the room and it seems typical of a teenage girl. Makeup on the dresser, an iPod on the nightstand. It looks like she still lives here. From the look of her room, it doesn’t look like she’s gone at all. It’s obvious no one has touched this room since she died. Her pictures are all still hanging on the walls and stuck to her vanity mirror. All of her clothes are still in her closet, some piled in the closet floor. It’s been over a year since he said she passed away, and I’m willing to bet that no one in his family has accepted it yet.
It feels eerie being in here, but it’s keeping my mind off of what’s happening right now. I walk to the bed and look at the pictures hanging on the wall. Most of them are of Lesslie and her friends with just a few of Holder and her together. She looks a lot like Holder with his intense, crystal blue eyes and dark brown hair. What surprises me the most is how happy she looks. She looks so content and full of life in every single picture, it’s hard to imagine what was really going on inside of her head. No wonder Holder didn’t have a clue about how desolate she really felt. She more than likely never let anyone know.
I pick up a picture from her nightstand that’s turned facedown. When I flip it over and look at it, I gasp. It’s a picture of her kissing Grayson on the cheek and they have their arms around each other. The picture stuns me and I have to take a seat on the bed to regain my bearings. This is why Holder hates him so much? This is why he didn’t want him touching me? I wonder if he blames Grayson for what she did.
I’m holding the picture, still sitting on the bed, when the bedroom door opens. Holder peers around the door. “What are you doing?” He doesn’t seem angry that I’m in here. He does seem uncomfortable, though, which is probably just a reaction from how I made him feel earlier.
“I was looking for the bathroom,” I say, quietly. “I’m sorry. I just needed a second.”
He leans against the doorway and crosses his arms over his chest while his eyes work their way around the room. He’s taking in everything like I am. Like it’s all new to him.
“Has no one been in here? Since she…”
“No,” he says quickly. “What would be the point of it? She’s gone.”
I nod, then place the picture of Lesslie and Grayson back on the nightstand, facedown like she had left it. “Was she dating him?”
He takes a hesitant step into the bedroom, then walks over to the bed. He sits down beside me and rests his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands in front of him. He looks around the room slowly, not answering my question right away. He glances at me, then wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me to him. The fact that he’s sitting here with me right now, still wanting to hold me, makes me want to burst into tears.
“He broke up with her the night before she did it,” he says quietly.
I try not to gasp, but his words shock me. “Do you think he’s the reason why she did it? Is that why you hate him so much?”
He shakes his head. “I hated him before he broke up with her. He put her through a lot of shit, Sky. And no, I don’t think he’s why she did it. I think maybe it was the deciding factor in a decision she had wanted to make for a long time. She had issues way before Grayson ever came into the picture. So no, I don’t blame him. I never have.” He stands up and takes my hand. “Come on. I don’t want to be in here anymore.”
I take one last glance around the room, then stand up to follow him. I stop before we reach the door, though. He turns around and watches me observe the pictures on her dresser. There’s a framed picture of Holder and Lesslie when they were kids. I pick it up and bring it in closer for inspection. Something about seeing him that young makes me smile. Seeing both of them that young…it’s refreshing. Like there’s innocence about them before the ugly realities of life hit. They’re standing in front of a white-framed house and Holder has his arm around her neck and he’s squeezing her. She’s got her arms wrapped around his waist and they’re smiling at the camera.
My eyes move from their faces to the house behind them in the photo. It’s a white-framed house with yellow trim and if you were to see the inside of the house, the living room is painted two different shades of green.
I immediately close my eyes. How do I know that? How do I know what color the living room is?
My hands start shaking and I try to suck in a breath, but I can’t. How do I know that house? I know that house like I somehow suddenly know the kids in the picture. How do I know there’s a green and white swing set behind that house? And ten feet from the swing set is a dry well that has to stay covered because Lesslie’s cat fell down it once.
“You okay?” Holder says. He tries to take the picture out of my hands, but I snatch it from him and look up at him. His eyes are concerned and he takes a step toward me. I take a step back.
How do I know him?
How do I know Lesslie?
Why do I feel like I miss them? I shake my head, looking down at the picture and back up at Holder, then down to the picture again. This time, Lesslie’s wrist catches my eye. She’s wearing a bracelet. A bracelet identical to mine.
I want to ask him about it but I can’t. I try, but nothing comes out, so I just hold up the picture instead. He shakes his head and his face drops like his heart is breaking. “Sky, no,” he says, pleadingly.
“How?” My voice cracks and is barely audible. I look back down to the picture in my hands. “There’s a swing set. And a well. And…your cat. It got stuck in the well.” I dart my eyes up to his and the thoughts keep pouring out. “Holder, I know that living room. The living room is green and the kitchen had a countertop that was way too tall for us and…your mother. Your mother’s name is Beth.” I pause and try to take a breath, because the memories won’t stop. They won’t stop coming and I can’t breathe. “Holder…is Beth your mother’s name?”
Holder grimaces and runs his hands through his hair. “Sky…” he says. He can’t even look at me. His expression is torn and confused and he’s…he’s been lying to me. He’s holding something back and he’s scared to tell me.
He knows me. How the hell does he know me and why hasn’t he told me?
I suddenly feel sick. I rush past him and open the door across the hall, which happens to be a bathroom, thank God. I lock the door behind me and throw the framed picture on the counter, then fall straight to the floor.
The images and memories start inundating my mind like the floodgates have just been lifted. Memories of him, of her, of the three of us together. Memories of us playing, me eating dinner at their house, me and Les being inseparable. I loved her. I was so young and so small and I don’t even know how I knew them, but I loved them. Both of them. The memory is coupled by the grief of now knowing the Lesslie I knew and loved as a little girl is gone. I suddenly feel sad and depressed that she’s gone, but not for me. Not for Sky. I’m sad for the little girl I used to be and somehow her grief over the loss of Lesslie is emerging through me.
How have I not known? How did I not remember him the first time I saw him?
“Sky, open the door. Please.”
I fall back against the wall. It’s too much. The memories and the emotions and the grief…it’s too much to absorb all at once.
“Baby, please. We need to talk and I can’t do it from out here. Please, open the door.”
He knew. The first time he saw me at the grocery store, he knew. And when he saw my bracelet…he knew I got it from Lesslie. He saw me wearing it and he knew.
My grief and confusion soon turn to anger and I push myself up off the floor and walk swiftly to the bathroom door. I unlock it and swing it open. His hands are on either side of the doorframe and he’s looking directly at me, but I feel like I don’t even know who he is. I don’t know what’s real between us and what’s fake anymore. I don’t know what feelings of his are from his life with me or the life with that little girl I used to be.
I need to know. I need to know who she was. Who I was. I swallow my fear and release the question that I’m afraid I already know the answer to. “Who’s Hope?”
His hardened expression doesn’t change, so I ask him again, but louder this time.
“Who the hell is Hope?”
He keeps his eyes locked on mine and his hands placed firmly on the doorframe, but he can’t answer me. For some reason he doesn’t want me to know. He doesn’t want me to remember who I was. I take a deep breath and try to fight back the tears. I’m too scared to say it, because I don’t want to know the answer.
“Is it me?” I ask, my voice shaking and full of trepidation. “Holder…am I Hope?”
He lets out a quick breath at the same time he looks up at the ceiling, almost as if he’s struggling not to cry. He closes his eyes and lays his forehead against his arm, then takes a long, deep breath before looking back at me. “Yes.”
The air around me grows thick. Too thick to take in. I stand still, directly in front of him, unable to move. Everything grows quiet except for what’s inside my head. There are so many thoughts and questions and memories and they’re all trying to take over and I don’t know if I need to cry or scream or sleep or run.
I need to go outside. I feel like Holder and the bathroom and the whole damn house are closing in on me and I need to go outside so there’s room to get everything out of my head. I just want it all out.
I shove past him and he tries to grab my arm, but I yank it out of his grasp.
“Sky, wait,” he yells after me. I keep running until I reach the stairs and I descend them as fast as I can, taking two at a time. I can hear him following me, so I speed up and my foot lands further than I intend for it to. I lose my grip on the rail and fall forward, landing on the floor at the base of the stairs.
“Sky!” he yells. I try to pull myself up but he’s on his knees with his arms around me before I even have the chance. I push against him, wanting him to let go of me so I can just go outside. He doesn’t budge.
“Outside,” I say, breathless and weak. “I just need outside. Please, Holder.”
I can feel him struggling from within, not wanting to release me. He reluctantly pulls me away from his chest and looks down at me, searching my eyes. “Don’t run, Sky. Go outside, but please don’t leave. We need to talk.”
I nod and he releases me, then helps me stand up. When I walk out the front door and onto the lawn, I clasp my hands together behind my head and inhale a huge, cold breath of air. I tilt my head back and look up at the stars, wishing more than anything that I was up there and not down here. I don’t want the memories to keep coming, because with each confusing memory comes an even more confusing question. I don’t understand how I know him. I don’t understand why he kept it from me. I don’t understand how my name could have been Hope, when all I’ve ever remembered being called was Sky. I don’t understand why Karen would tell me that Sky was my birth name if it isn’t. Everything I thought I understood after all these years is unraveling, revealing things that I don’t want to know. I’m being lied to, and I’m terrified to know what it is that everyone’s trying to keep from me.
I stand outside for what feels like forever, attempting to sort through this alone when I have no idea what it is I’m even trying to sort through. I need to talk to Holder and I need to know what he knows, but I’m hurt. I don’t want to face him, knowing he’s been hiding this secret all along. It makes everything that I thought was happening between us nothing but a façade.
I’m emotionally spent and have had all the revelations I can take for one night. I just want to go home and go to bed. I need to sleep on this before we go into the fact of why he didn’t just tell me he knew me as a child. I don’t understand why it was something he even thought he should keep from me.
I turn around and walk back toward the house. He’s standing in the doorway, watching me. He steps aside to let me back in and I walk straight to the kitchen and open the refrigerator. I grab a bottle of water and open it, then take several gulps. My mouth is dry and I never did get the water he said he was getting for me earlier.
I set the bottle down on the bar and look at him. “Take me home.”
He doesn’t object. He turns around and grabs his keys off the entryway table, then motions for me to follow him. I leave the water on the bar and silently follow him to the car. When I climb inside, he backs out of the driveway and pulls onto the road without speaking a word.
We pass my turn-off and it’s apparent that he has no intention to take me home. I glance over at him and his eyes are focused hard on the road in front of him. “Take me home,” I say again.
He looks at me with a determined expression. “We need to talk, Sky. You have questions, I know you do.”
I do. I have a million questions I need to ask, but I was hoping he would let me sleep on it so I could sort them out and try to answer as many of them as I could myself. But it’s obvious he doesn’t care what I prefer at this point. I reluctantly take off my seatbelt and turn in my seat, leaning with my back against the door to face him. If he doesn’t want to give me time to let this soak in, I’ll just lay all of my questions on him at once. But I’m making it fast because I want him to take me home.
“Fine,” I say stubbornly. “Let’s get this over with. Why have you been lying to me for two months? Why did my bracelet piss you off so much that you couldn’t speak to me for weeks? Or why you didn’t just say who you really thought I was the day we met at the grocery store? Because you knew, Holder. You knew who I was and for some reason you thought it would be funny to string me along until I figured it all out. Do you even like me? Was this game you’ve been playing worth hurting me more than I’ve ever been hurt in my life? Because that’s what happened,” I say, furious to the point that I’m shaking.
I finally give in to the tears because it’s just one more thing that’s trying to get out and I’m tired of fighting them. I wipe them away from my cheeks with the back of my hand and lower my voice. “You hurt me, Holder. So bad. You promised you would only ever be honest with me.” I’m not raising my voice anymore. In fact, I’m talking so quietly that I’m not even sure he can hear me. He keeps staring at the road like the asshole that he is. I squeeze my eyes shut and fold my arms across my chest, then fall back into my seat. I stare out the passenger window and curse Karma. I curse Karma for bringing this hopeless boy into my life just so he could ruin it.
When he continues to drive without responding to a single word I’ve said, I can do nothing but let out a small, pathetic laugh. “You really are hopeless,” I mutter.
