"I miss that sound," he said.
My lips thinned to a line.
He blew out a breath and rested his head on the back of the sofa. "What the hell happened to us?"
I mimicked his position. "I know, right?"
"Dimmy . . . I'm not saying this to make you feel like shit or anything . . . but do you ever wonder? I mean, do you ever think about where we'd be if we’d stayed together?" He rolled his head to the side and faced me.
I did the same. "Sometimes," I told him honestly.
He smiled, then eyed the ceiling again. "I already miss her."
"Ally?" I sat up, wanting to pay more attention to him.
"Yeah. I shouldn't, right? She's a whore." He grimaced at his own words. "I shouldn't say that."
"It's okay," I told him. "She is. You don't deserve to be treated like that."
"Yeah," he agreed. "Not twice."
I sucked in a breath. His words hurt, especially now. Now that it was all for nothing.
"Sorry." He nudged my side. "That was a dick thing to say."
"You're right, though. You don't deserve that. Not at all, Ty. I hope you know that. You're a good guy, one of the best, really."
He laughed once. "Maybe that's the problem. Maybe I should've been an asshole—worked for Logan. He got the girl."
His words stung. "Did he? Because I'm here, and he's not. So I don't really see how he got the girl."
He didn't say a thing.
Neither did I.
We just sat there, looking at each other.
I heard Ethan walk in and sit on the recliner. My eyes didn't move from their spot.
"Well." Ethan broke the silence. "Aren't you two a party."
"Party," I said.
"What?" they both asked.
A smile pulled at my lips. "Let's have a party."
***
A few hours later the house was filled with the familiar odor of beer, perfume, and sweat. I sat outside by the fire with a soda in my hand. Ethan was next to me, of course.
"You should go have fun. That girl's been eying you the entire night." I jerked my head towards a blonde a few feet away.
He lifted his head and looked at her, but only for a second, before facing me. "Did you invite Alexis?" he spoke over the music.
I nodded.
"And?" he asked.
I hesitated, before telling him the truth. "She had a date."
"Fair enough." He sat up a little in his chair and eyed the girl again. Tyson came and took a seat next to me. "Stay with her," Ethan ordered, then got up and made his way over to the blonde.
Tyson hit my leg with the back of his hand, getting my attention. "I just saw a drunk girl dry humping some guy's leg in the hallway . . . he was barking at her."
I laughed so hard I spat out my soda, causing it to drip down my chin.
"That's so sexy," he teased.
I tried to swallow the remaining amount in my mouth. My eyes stung from the acid building behind my nose.
He moved his hands up and down as if comparing the weight of two things. "Spit . . . swallow . . ."
I spat.
His laugh was a slow build up, a chuckle turned guffaw.
I wiped my face with the back of my hand. His laugh had quieted by the time he leaned closer and wiped my chin with the sleeve of his sweater. "You're such a kid," he murmured, shaking his head from side to side.
He was so close I could smell the beer on his breath. My own breath hitched when I noticed his eyes go from mine, to my mouth. He licked his lips.
Shit.
I held his hand that was on my face and tried pushing it away, but he gripped my wrist and turned it to face him.
"What's this?" There was confusion clear in his tone.
I pulled my hand out of his grip and sat on it so he couldn't see.
"What is it?" he asked again.
"Nothing, Tyson. Leave it alone."
"When did you—"
"I said leave it alone."
He didn't mention it again.
***
The sun had started to come up by the time everyone left. I’d wanted to go to bed earlier, but I knew Ethan would shut the party down if I did, so I dealt with it.
I couldn't sleep, even if I wanted to. I lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to drown out the silence with music, but it made me feel worse.
Tyson knocked on my door before coming in. He didn't say anything; just lay on the bed, on top of the covers.
"I'd gotten so used to having someone else in the bed. It feels strange now," he explained.
"Yeah." I knew exactly what he meant. "Have you heard from her?"
"Yeah, I just got off the phone.
"And?"
"Nothing. She said she was sorry."
"Do you think you can forgive her?"
"No. I think my mind's pretty set on the whole cheating thing. If I was able to forgive, I'd have forgiven you, you know?"
I didn't know what came over me, but I reached over, felt for his hand and held it. "Yeah," I whispered.
"I'm sad, Dim." His voice broke. "Are you sad?"
"Yeah," I repeated quietly.
"You don't seem sad."
I thought about my next words. "I have to numb myself emotionally, you know? I mean it's not just me that's in this. It's Ethan, too. If I show him how bad I'm hurting, he'll want to fix it, and he can't."
He squeezed my hand once.
I continued, "We're going to be okay, Tyson."
"Yeah," he agreed. "And if not, we'll be broken together."
A few minutes of silence passed before he started to chuckle.
"What?" I asked.
He laughed harder.
"What?" I asked again.
"You should've seen this kid barking at that girl," he managed to say.
I started to giggle. "What do you mean bark? Like, howl?"
"No, Dim." His words came out in a rush of excitement. "I mean . . . ruff, ruff . . . ruff, ruff . . ."
I laughed into my pillow. "Why was he doing that?"
"I don't know." He turned to face me, leaning on his elbow and resting his head in his hand. "This is your school. You tell me."
"Ooh, sorry," I mocked sarcastically. "We can't all go to musical genius school. That was just your run-of-the-mill college party."
"You can say that again." His smile came through in his tone. "No musical geniuses bark where I come from."
I giggled. "Well, that's a shame. You're missing out."
A loud, girly shriek echoed through the house.
I rolled my eyes.
"Ethan got a girl in there?" Ty asked.
"I assume so."
Then a rhythmic banging sound filled my ears. "Oh God," I moaned. It wasn’t the first time I'd had to hear it, but it never got easier.
Tyson chuckled. "How awkward for you—having to listen to your own brother banging—"
"Shut up!" I pulled the pillow from under my head and used it to cover my eyes and ears.
Then we heard her speak again. "Say it!"
"No." Ethan's voice was firm.
The banging stopped.
I pulled the pillow away from my face and looked at Tyson.
His eyes were huge, waiting. "I feel like we're kids eavesdropping."
"We kind of are," I whispered.
She was louder this time. "SAY IT!"
"Oww. Fine!" Ethan bellowed. "Ruff, ruff . . . ruff, ruff!"
Instantly, Tyson and I were kicking our legs, laughing into the pillows. "No way!" Ty laughed.
I couldn't speak. My body wouldn't stop shaking from laughter. Tears had pooled in my eyes.
"Ruff, ruff . . . ruff, ruff!" We heard once more.
Then the rhythmic banging started again.
***
Tyson and I moved into the living room to watch TV so we didn't have to listen to them . . . um . . . bark?
"What are you planning on doing tomorrow—actually, today?" I handed him a coffee and sat next to him.
&n
bsp; "I don't know. Sleep a little, find a job, I guess."
"So you plan on staying for a while?" I couldn't help the excitement from showing. It felt good to have him here. It felt familiar.
"If it's okay with you. I kind of just want to hide out for a bit. I haven't even told my parents I'm back."
I nodded. "I get that. It's fine."
A door opened. Tyson and I quickly looked at each other, and then pretended to pay attention to the TV.
"You guys still up?" Ethan asked, walking towards the sofa. A brunette walked behind him, adjusting her dress. Tyson chuckled under his breath.
"Yup," I answered for both of us. I watched Tyson pretend to be engrossed with what was on the TV.
"Dimmy, Tyson," Ethan started. Tyson looked up. Ethan pointed at the girl behind him. "This is Kat."
Tyson fell into a fit of laughter. I held it together. "Nice to meet you, Kat. Sorry—" I pointed my thumb at Tyson. "—he's drunk."
She smiled right before Ethan led her out of the house with his hand on her back. When I heard the door click shut, I turned to Tyson. His face was red from his attempt at containing his laughter. I slapped his shoulder.
"Holy shit, Dim." He held his stomach. "Her name is Kat and she makes guys bark like a dog. What the fuck?"
My head flew back with my laugh. I snorted. Multiple times.
Ethan interrupted us. "What's so funny?" he asked seriously.
"Kat?" I asked, at the same time as Tyson started barking.
"Fuck you," Ethan said, but he was laughing, too. He exited the room and left us in our state of idiotic bliss.
And for a moment, I forgot who the hell Logan Matthews was.
And soon enough, I determined, I'd make it permanent.
4
It didn't take long for Tyson to make himself at home. A few weeks had passed and he’d landed a job at a record store. He didn't really need a job. He lived off a trust fund left to him by his grandparents, and he was getting paid monthly royalty payments for a few songs he'd recorded on compilation albums. Things were just starting to take off for him in New York when that stuff happened with Ally. He said he'd go back to that eventually, but was happy just to sit back for a few months and wait it out. Music would always be there, he’d said, but being young with no major responsibility is limited. He just wanted to live a little. Good for him.
Summer break went by quickly; way too quickly. We spent the time working, and lazing around. Ethan’s shifts were sporadic but he made sure someone was always home with me. He and Tyson had come up with a schedule.
I’d thought it was stupid today, until I was left alone in the house, and it no longer seemed that way. I felt like a child afraid of monsters. Maybe I was.
I tried calling Tyson first, but he didn't answer. Ethan picked up on the first ring.
"I'm sorry," I told him.
"Where are you?"
"Home."
"Where's Tyson?"
"Don't know."
"Are you okay?"
"I think . . . maybe . . . I'm not sure." I paused, and pushed aside my damn pride. "Can you just come home, please?"
"I'll be there soon."
"Ethan . . ."
"Yeah?"
"I'm hiding in the closet."
He cursed before hanging up.
I was weak.
Pathetic.
Scared.
Stupid.
***
"Dimmy," he called out. I heard his footsteps get closer just before the closet door swung open. His expression went from panic, to relief, to sympathy. "You're okay," he soothed, taking a seat on the floor next to me. "You're okay," he said again, but this time to himself.
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to worry you." I looked up at him.
"Don't ever apologize for that." He ran his hand through his hair and wriggled a little on the floor until he was comfortable. "You want to talk about it . . . what you're feeling . . . or whatever?" He seemed uneasy.
"I don't know. I thought I was okay, E. I really did. But then I was here alone and I just . . . started to remember . . ."
"And you got scared?"
I nodded.
"Do you remember it?"
I nodded again, biting my lip to stop the sob. "I just wanted them to stop. They wouldn't stop. They just kept hitting him—"
"That's it?" he cut in. "That's what you think about? That they hurt him?" His tone was sharp. "What about you, Dimmy? How about the fact that they hurt you? How about the fact that Logan just fucking left and hurt you? Or the fact that he's still hurting you? Every day he's gone, and you're hurting. That's all you can think about—that asshole?"
I stayed quiet, waiting for him to calm down.
"How are those self-defense classes going?" He changed the subject.
"Good," I said truthfully. "I'm getting more confident."
He squeezed my hand. "Good." Then he lifted it and studied my wrist. "He doesn't deserve this," he stated, motioning his head towards it. He stood and offered me his hand. "I called Tyson. He's coming home, we're going mini golfing."
"Mini golf?" I asked, incredulous.
"Yeah." He pushed me out of the closet, through my bedroom, down the hallway and into the living room. "It'll be good times, promise."
Tyson came home five minutes later, apologizing for leaving. He hadn't realized I was home. He kept apologizing, even though I kept telling him it was fine. I wasn't his responsibility. I wasn't Ethan's, either.
An hour later, we were mini golfing. Ethan and Ty shared a flask. I drove, opting not to share in the extracurricular.
It was the first night since he’d left where I felt like myself again, even for a little while.
We laughed. Hard. It really was good times.
***
Tyson knocked on my door and popped his head in. "You decent?"
I was already in bed, ready to call it a night. "Yup."
"Dammit," he joked. He made a show of jumping on the bed before lying next to me. He turned his head to face me, blinking hard a few times.
"Are you wasted?" I asked, giggling when he scrunched his nose. They hadn't stopped drinking whatever was in the flask until a few minutes ago. I eyed him, waiting for his answer. He'd gotten so handsome over the past few years. His features were more defined, manlier.
"I think so. I don't know what Ethan had in that flask, but it's worked its magic into my system."
I laughed. "Magic?"
He nodded, turning his entire body to face me. I did the same. His scruffy dark hair was all over the place.
"Quit checking me out," he teased.
I laughed into my pillow. I wasn't going to deny it, I kind of was.
I felt him move forward until his body was flush against mine. The heat of his arms as they wrapped around me, engulfed me. He pulled me in so my face was on his chest.
I muffled into his chest. "What are you—"
He cut in before I could finish. "Sshh, Dim. Just let me do it." I let my body relax. He must've felt it, because he brought me even closer. "I've wanted to hold you like this since I moved in," he said, pulling back and looking at my face. "Are you okay?"
The concern in his face broke my heart. "Yeah, Tyson. I am." I put my arms around him. "I promise."
"I'm not talking about him. I mean . . ." He cleared his throat. "You were almost raped."
My breath hitched. No one had ever said those words aloud. Not to me, anyway. "I don't think about it. Almost doesn't count."
"That's bullshit. It has to count for something."
"It could've been a lot worse."
"Yeah, or it could have been prevented completely."
I reared back, a little pissed off at his words. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He exhaled loudly. "Nothing. I don't know what I'm saying. I'm buzzed. Sorry." He brought my head back closer to him, but now we were face to face: his nose against mine, our lips almost touching. He closed his eyes slowly. "Goodnight, Dim," he said, right before he k
issed me.
I let him.
It wasn't passionate. It wasn't intimate. There was no tongue. No movement. It just was. When he pulled back, he sighed. "I know you're still in love with him."
I didn't speak.
I didn't agree.
I didn't deny.
I didn't know how I felt.
***
I woke up the next morning and he was gone. I must have fallen asleep in his arms. Some nights, I'd had nightmares. Last night, I didn't.
I don't truly understand why, but the fact that I was almost raped didn't really ring true. Maybe I’d blocked it out, or maybe I was just so scared for Logan at the time that I didn't really understand what was happening until afterwards.
I remembered most of it so distinctly. I remembered him being held up, me saying his name, him finding the strength to break free, but then he fell to the floor. I’d wanted to reach him. I kept thinking that he'd find the strength again, but he couldn't get up, he just kept crawling toward me. It had all happened so fast, but his movements—they were so slow. I’d heard him say my name, right before he got kicked in the head. I’d screamed. It was so loud, it had echoed through the house. I’d screamed some more, and I’d thought for sure that if he could just hear me screaming, he would wake up. Surely, he would wake up. He had to.
I think my body shut down then, because I don't remember anything that happened after.
When I woke up in the hospital, the first thing I remember thinking was that maybe Logan and I were connected somehow, more than just a boy and a girl in love. Maybe our souls were entwined—if he hurt, I hurt. If he stopped breathing, I did, too. If he died, maybe I would die with him.
I was alive. I was awake. Which meant that he was, too. But I didn't see him; he never came for me.
He just left.
***
We decided to go home for the weekend to visit Mom. She'd started to date some guy, and she wanted us to meet him. I’d invited Tyson to come along, he assumed he already was.
My mom loved Tyson—always had. We took Ethan's car, as mine was too small, and Tyson didn't have one. Tyson wanted to drop by the store and get a bottle of wine and some flowers for Mom. Ethan left his phone charger back home, so went to the electronics store to buy a new one. I waited in the car for both of them.