“Then don’t stop,” Eden says, but her voice is laced with nerves now. Slowly, she moves a step closer to me and I stare at her, my gaze never leaving hers. I am trying so hard not to think about a nice clean line of coke right now, but it’s still there in the back of my mind, still calling for me. Eden reaches up and places her hand on my jaw, her skin cool. “Focus on me,” she whispers.
“Then distract me,” I say. I reach for her hand on my jaw and move it away. I need distracting right now more than ever, but something more than Eden’s touch.
“We can talk. We’ve never once just talked,” she says quietly, her voice almost a whisper. A new silence has formed around us in this tiny bathroom and we are afraid to break it.
“Okay. Let’s talk,” I say. I move around her and lean back against my shower door, sliding down the glass until I’m sitting on the cold floor. I stretch my legs out in front of me and then close my eyes, still focusing on my erratic breathing. I don’t really do the talking thing, but with Eden, I’m willing to give it a chance. I like listening to her voice. It’s soothing to me.
“Can we talk about Tiffani?” I hear Eden gently ask, as though she’s afraid to mention her name. “Calmly this time.”
My eyes flash open to look at her again. She is still hovering by the sink, looking down at me with a wary gaze. Tiffani is the last person I want to talk about right now. Reluctantly, I mutter, “Fine.”
Eden steps around my body and sits down on the floor next to me, hugging her knees to her chest and leaning back against the door. She frowns. “Why won’t you break up with her? You don’t even like her. You said so yourself.”
My eyes roam Eden’s body, searching her eyes first, then her lips, then her hands. She wants an answer, but I don’t know what to tell her. She wouldn’t understand. “I can’t break up with her,” I tell her again for the second time today. Breaking up with Tiffani just isn’t going to happen.
“But why?”
I shake my head, ready to object to answering, but then I realize that Eden will most likely only continue to press me about the matter. I cover my face with my hand and rub at my eyes while I consider what exactly I will say. It is such a long, complicated story and the thought of having to explain it all is enough to make me groan out loud. I decide to simplify it. “Tiffani’s really good at acting like she’s the nicest girl around. But she’s not,” I tell Eden. “The second you do something wrong to her, she turns into a psychopath. She knows too much about me. I can’t risk it. At least not right now.”
“Psychopath?” Eden repeats. She seems surprised, which only means that Tiffani does do a good job at acting. We are almost as bad as each other when it comes to putting up a front. “What does she know?”
“It’s . . .” I don’t even know what to say. There are so many things Tiffani has done over the years, so I shift on the floor, getting more comfortable. “Okay. Example: Back in January, she heard I’d been hanging out with this girl during lunch period every Tuesday, which I totally hadn’t, and she went crazy. I slaved over an essay for English Lit for two weeks straight, because I had to get my grades up, and she told my teacher that she wrote it. My entire grade dropped and I got suspended for cheating, which is so dumb. The same day she used her mom’s email to email my mom, telling her that she was concerned for my well-being because I was smoking joints in the school basement. That part is true, and Tiffani’s the only one who knew. Mom didn’t talk to me for almost a month. I would have dumped Tiffani back then, but she made it clear that I shouldn’t ever go there. So I never have. Breaking up isn’t an option. There are so many more things she can do, because she has the upper hand in all of this.” I’m nearly out of breath by the time I finish.
Eden listens carefully to each word I say and she stays quiet as she slowly absorbs them. “What else does she know, Tyler?”
I should just tell her the truth, or at least some of it, and I definitely can’t look at her while I do. I don’t want to see her look disappointed in me. “Do you remember the first day of summer?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says. “Dad was annoying and the barbecue sucked and you rudely stormed into it.”
“Yeah, that.” I am picking at the rips in my jeans, trying to muster up the courage to keep on talking. It feels weird to me, discussing things like this. “I was super pissed off.”
“Why?”
“I was mad at Tiffani,” I admit. “I’ve been thinking about getting involved in something for a while, and she found out that night. She said she won’t tell anyone as long as I stay with her until graduation. That’s why I was sucking up to her for a while at the start of the summer. You know, in American Apparel and stuff . . .” Oh, God, I’m still embarrassed about that. I wonder what Eden must have thought of me back then. Did she think I was a jerk? Does she still think that now? “As long as she’s happy and I don’t break up with her, she won’t tell, because that’s what she does, Eden. She likes to blackmail people into doing what she wants, so that she can look cool and stay on top of the rest of us. She told me she used to get bullied when she was younger, so I guess when she started at our school, after she moved here with her mom after the divorce, she wanted to make sure no one stepped over her. She wants to be better than everyone, cooler than them all. Having me by her side helps to boost her ego. That’s why I’m stuck in this mess.” Saying it all out loud makes me realize just how messy it actually is, and I run my hand through my hair as I let out a groan. “I hate this.”
“Wow,” Eden says once I’m done. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I’m not breaking up with her,” I tell her as I glance back up from the floor. She is blinking at me, wide-eyed and completely invested in my words. I still don’t expect her to understand my situation with Tiffani fully, but I hope she understands it more than she did a minute ago. “Not yet, at least. I can’t risk it right now.”
Eden leans forward and rests her chin on her knees, staring across the silent bathroom at me from beneath her eyelashes. “Then what are we going to do?”
Is she talking about us? I hope that she is, because if she is searching for an answer to what is going on between us, then that means she is still interested in pursuing something. “I just don’t want to make anyone suspicious,” I say. I’m not really sure what answer to give her, because I have no idea, either.
“Suspicious about what?”
“Us,” I clarify. We are really talking about this right now, the possibility of us, whatever the hell that means. “We need to just act normal for now until we figure this out. That’s another reason I can’t break up with her. People would wonder why. So for now, she has to stay in the picture, because Tiffani is my normality.”
“But it’s wrong to do this to her,” Eden says under her breath, and there she goes again, doing that cute thing where she cares about people. And not just me, but everyone else too. She is chewing anxiously on her lower lip.
“Eden,” I say. I tilt my head to one side as I analyze her. I could kiss her right now. I really could, but I’m trying my best not to ruin this moment. I’m being honest with her while she listens, and that’s important to me, but I also want to hear her. “Talk about something else. Talk about Portland.”
Eden lifts her head from atop her knees and straightens up, crossing her legs instead as she furrows her eyebrows at me. “You want me to talk about Portland?”
“I want you to talk about yourself,” I say. I am calm and no longer thinking about meeting Declan. Instead, all I can focus on is Eden; all I can think about is her. Our eye contact never breaks. “Tell me something that no one else knows.”
Eden hesitates. She seems to think it through first before she speaks, but eventually she decides to open up to me like I have just opened up to her. “I love Portland,” she starts, and she glances away for a second as her mouth forms a sad, wistful smile. “It was an amazing city to grow up in. I had three really close friends. Amelia, Alyssa and Holly.”
“Ha
d?”
“Had,” she confirms. “When my parents got divorced I was thirteen and it hit me really hard. I used to cry myself to sleep, because my mom would be crying, and my dad wouldn’t be there, and I didn’t know how to make her feel better, and it just sucked. It really, really sucked.” She stops and glances down at her lap, intertwining her fingers. She takes a deep breath. “I started to eat a lot because I was so upset, and I put on a lot of weight during freshman year. Alyssa and Holly had a lot to say about it.”
Is she seriously telling me what I think she is telling me? I run my gaze over her body which I have already studied so many times. I like the small dip in her back, the curve of her hips. There’s absolutely no way. “You’re not fat,” I state firmly. Who the hell are these girls?
“That’s because I run, Tyler,” she says with a small shrug. She’s not really looking at me now, but I can see a new sadness lurking in her eyes that I really, really don’t want to be there.
Slowly, I press my hands to the cold floor and move myself closer to her. I sit in front of her, holding her gaze, resting my hands on her knees. “Keep talking,” I say quietly. I want her to know that I’m here, I’m listening.
She bites down on her lower lip again and presses a hand to her cheek. She doesn’t push my hands away from her knees. “They made me feel like shit,” she tells me, and I try not to show the anger that fills me. Eden doesn’t deserve to feel so sad over something that is complete bullshit. She’s stronger than that. She’s deserves better. “I had two of my supposed best friends calling me fat every day, so I started running. We don’t talk anymore, but they still bitch about me on the low. It’s just hard, because Amelia . . . Amelia’s still friends with them. She stuck by my side the whole time, though.”
“Eden,” I say. I like the way her name sounds, and I want her to look at me. I have noticed a lot of details about her over the past few weeks, and there have been moments where she has rejected food, pushed away plates, and never once actually finished dinner. Now I think I know why. “That’s why you always say you’re never hungry, isn’t it?”
Eden’s eyes widen and she parts those plump lips of hers, taken aback. “You noticed that?”
“Only just now,” I admit, swallowing the lump in my throat as I drop my eyes to her bare legs. I can’t help but touch her, tracing a pattern with my fingers from her knees up to her thighs. I know my opinion probably doesn’t mean much to her, but I think she looks just perfect. “Just so you know, I completely disagree with those girls. I’m sorry for what they did.” I glance up at her from beneath my eyelashes, running my fingertips in soft circles over her smooth skin, and our eyes lock.
Eden is looking at me in a way I have never seen her look at me before. There is warmth in her eyes and she exhales a small breath of relief, her body relaxing, her gaze never tearing away from mine. I can’t take it anymore. I need to kiss her, and I need to kiss her right now. Grabbing her thighs, I lean forward and crash my lips to hers.
I kiss her deeply, as though it’s the first time I am ever feeling her mouth against mine. She hooks her arms around my neck and leans back against the door, letting me hover over her body. Her lips curve into a smile against mine as I kiss her, and I don’t want to ever stop. I can’t get enough of this girl, and no matter how many times I have kissed her now, it’s always just as exhilarating as the last. Adrenaline is flooding through my veins. I run my hands from her thighs to her waist, and I am about to slide my hand under her shirt when I pause, slowing the kiss down and playing with the material of her shirt instead. I’m giving her the chance to say no, to push me away, but she locks her arms around my neck and pulls me hard against her. She takes control and I let her kiss me however she wants, as rough as she wants, as fast as she wants.
My hands slip under her shirt, feeling the warmth of her smooth skin under my fingertips, and I clasp her waist with one hand, my other exploring her body, my skin rubbing against the soft lace material of her bra. I slide my hand inside, gently grabbing her breast, and I tear my lips from her mouth and lean back for a second to meet her eyes. She is breathing hard and her full lips are driving me insane. God, I could kiss her all night. I lean back in and leave a row of kisses all the way along her jaw and down to her neck, and she tilts her head back against the door, running her hands into my hair and tugging on the ends. Both my hands are on her breasts now, rubbing soft circles on her skin with my thumbs, and I exhale against her neck.
Eden lets go of my hair and grabs my jaw with her hands, drawing my lips back to hers. We pause for a moment first, our gazes locking. We are both breathing heavily, out of breath from the adrenaline rush, and my mouth curves into a smirk before I lean forward and kiss her again.
We both know we shouldn’t be doing this right now. My hands shouldn’t be on her body, her lips shouldn’t be against mine, but we just can’t fight it. She is too desirable to me. She is everything that I want. She is absolutely and completely irresistible.
49
FIVE YEARS EARLIER
“This is unbelievable,” Mom is muttering under her breath for the fifth time already this evening. “A complete disgrace.”
We are in the kitchen and I am sitting at the table while Mom presses damp cloths and ice packs to my face, her hand in my hair, massaging my head. She tilts my chin up, inspecting my face, and she lets out a small, muffled groan. She moves the ice pack in her hand to my eye.
It’s bad, I know. There is no hiding it this time. No covering it up.
My eye is busted, painted black and purple, and I can’t open it fully. My mouth is swollen and cut. My cheeks are bruised. My face seems to have blown up to twice its normal size, and every time I so much as speak or blink, it hurts. That’s why I’ve been keeping quiet, sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the wall as Mom nurses my injuries. I’ll never forget the gasp she let out when she got home from work and laid her eyes on me.
“How can you only suspend one of them?” she continues to vent to herself, her voice bitter. I don’t see Mom get angry often, but tonight, she is. There is exasperation in her eyes. “Two kids get into a fight and beat each other up, and you don’t suspend both of them? It’s injustice! You know what? I’m calling Principal Castillo first thing in the morning.”
Dad is over in the corner of the kitchen, slumped back against the countertop with his head hung low. He’s been staring at the ground the entire time, motionless. “Ella . . .” he says quietly without looking up. “Just drop it. Tyler is still suspended no matter what.”
“Drop it? Are you kidding me, Peter?” Mom barks at him, turning to face Dad directly. The mascara around her eyes has smudged, and she isn’t even bothering to fix the strands of hair that have fallen from her updo. She’s really mad. “Look at what that kid has done! LOOK.” Mom angles my head toward him, exposing all of the damage.
But Dad still can’t look; he’s too guilty to look. He only shakes his head slowly at the ground, and I fight against Mom’s hold on my chin to turn away again. I don’t want to look at him, either. I hate him.
“I started it,” I mumble to Mom. I want her to drop this too. Blake wasn’t the one who did this to my face. “Blake doesn’t deserve to get suspended.”
“Be quiet, Tyler. I’m furious at you,” she snaps at me, moving the ice pack back to my mouth, dabbing my swollen, plump lips. I flinch at the coolness. Her blue eyes meet mine, full of confusion and disappointment. Mostly disappointment. It’s the first time I’ve seen her look at me like that, and my chest constricts. “Why would you even do such a thing?”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I say quietly. I am sorry. I don’t know what happened. I got angry, and I needed to release it, and I felt better after it. Is that how it is with Dad too? Does he feel better afterward?
“It’s just not you,” Mom says. She heaves a sigh, rubs her forehead, moves the ice to my cheek. “What did that kid do?”
“Nothing.”
“You don’t just beat someone up for
no reason, Tyler,” she says, echoing Principal Castillo’s words, growing frustrated at me now. I can’t tell her why I did it. Not without breaking her.
“Some people do,” I whisper. I crane my neck to look at Dad again. He is still leaning back against the countertop, staring at the floor, but he seems to sense me watching him, because his empty gaze flicks up for only a brief moment. I hope he can see the hatred in my eyes. Or eye, since he beat me up so bad that I can’t open the other.
“Tyler, you’re not only suspended. You’re grounded too,” Mom tells me as she passes the ice pack into my hand. “Go to your room.”
I’ve never been grounded before, but I guess I expected it. I frown up at her. I’m sorry that I let her down. I wish she knew that I regret it now. That I feel so guilty. I squeeze my fingers tight around the ice pack in my hand and slide off the chair. My shoulders are slumped low as I walk across the kitchen. I can feel Dad’s eyes following me, but I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. I keep on walking, straight out of the kitchen, all the way upstairs and into my room. For once, I slam the door behind me. I’m not even worried about the consequences at this point. I’m no longer afraid of Dad, because what more can he do to me that hasn’t already been done?
Dad has never hurt me this badly before. It is getting worse and worse each night, and in the four years that this has been going on for, he has never been so careless. His mistakes have never been so visible. His anger is uncontrollable, and it is never going to get any better. I am sure of that now.
So why am I letting it happen?
I glance around my room, at the scuffs in the paint on my walls from where Dad has thrown me around, at the dents in my desk. Then, I get down onto my hands and knees and reach under my bed for one of my old backpacks. Why am I protecting Dad, when really I should be protecting myself?