Jordan
I haven’t spoken to Pike since the argument yesterday. I refuse to call it a fight. We barely know each other. How can we be fighting?
I also haven’t talked to Cole since yesterday, either, but for some reason, that’s not bugging me. It’s how we roll. He was gone yesterday, helping a friend with his car, and by the time he made it home I was at the bar. I slept in this morning, more as an effort to avoid Pike in the house, and only woke up once when Cole left a goodbye peck on my cheek before heading to work himself.
My stomach has been in knots all morning. Why the hell was Pike so angry? I thought we were getting along. I didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, I was mowing his fucking grass, and the next thing I know he’s ripping into me like I’m sunbathing topless on the front lawn while six-year-olds race their bikes down the street.
He’s so volatile. Very unlike his son who never takes anything seriously.
I climb out of Cole’s car, him catching a ride with one of his friends this morning so I could get to the library. I grab Pike’s lunch box he left at home and take a look around the job site. It’s busier than the last time I was here.
Workers move about, dressed in hard hats with brown leather tool belts hanging from their hips, and dust kicks up from the trucks moving in and out of the area. Hammers hit steel and men with dirty boots and scuffed jeans straddle beams high in the air as they do whatever it is that they do to turn materials into a building. Not many get to see the bare bones view. I wonder why Cole doesn’t work for his father. This job has to pay well. I know some of these guys, after all. They support families off this job.
My gaze wanders, looking for someone accessible to drop off the lunch box to, but I’m kind of on alert, looking for Pike’s tattoos, too. I don’t want to see him, really. My plan when I saw he’d left his lunch at home this morning was to do a nice deed, drop it off, and leave the ball in his court to get over the argument by seeking me out to say ‘thank you’. I want to get over whatever awkwardness is between us.
Stepping over the dirt and debris laying around, I make my way for the structure and spot his friend, Dutch, bending over to pick something up just inside. He notices me and rises.
“Hey, Dutch.” I smile. “Is Pike around?”
His eyes drop to the black insulated bag in my hand. “His lunch?”
“He left it sitting on the kitchen table.” I hold it up for him. “Thought I’d drop it off while I’m running errands.”
“That’s nice of you.” But he doesn’t take the lunch box. Instead, he tosses a tool down into a box and gestures to me. “Come on, I’ll take you up.”
“Oh, no, that’s okay,” I tell him. “I don’t want to bug him. I’ll just leave it with you.”
“If you leave that with me, I’ll eat it. Or lose it.” He chuckles and leads me toward some stairs.
My shoulders slump. Awesome.
We head up to the third floor, taking what I assume will be the emergency stairwell once the elevators are installed, and reach a landing with only frames for the walls, showing how the offices and work areas will be divided once it’s finished.
Pike is the only one on the floor, far off on the left side and hovering over a clipboard.
He hears us approach and looks up from his paperwork, turning his head.
His eyes narrow on me, and I blink long and hard, feeling stupid.
He’s wearing a navy blue T-shirt, and the color on him brings heat to my cheeks. I love how it looks against his tanned arms and the curves of his biceps.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
He doesn’t sound annoyed like I was afraid, though. Just puzzled.
I lift up the bag. “You left your lunch on the table.”
His expression relaxes, and the tension in his body eases. “Oh, thanks.” He walks over, and I hand it to him. “It’s okay, though,” he tells me. “I could’ve grabbed something from the food truck. You didn’t have to go through the trouble.”
The food truck? “Well, I couldn’t let you eat crap from a food truck,” I say.
And to my relief, he smiles a little. “It’s basically the same stuff that’s in there,” he points out, setting the lunch box on a work table.
But I’m way ahead of him. “Well, I snuck in a turkey and cheese cucumber wrap, too, in case you want something different.”
His face falls.
“Don’t worry,” I tease. “Your lunch is still in there. I just made too much and needed help finishing the wrap.”
The slight fear in his eyes dispels, and he takes a breath. “You’re not going to be happy until I’m eating hummus, are you?”
I try not to laugh. “I’ll build you up slowly.”
He rolls his eyes, and I finally take a deep breath. I guess we’re over the argument.
I stand there, feeling his eyes on me, the sounds of hammers pounding and the breeze blowing through the structure slowly fading away.
Then I realize that Dutch is still in the room.
We both look over at him, his gaze shifting between us.
“I’ll go…” He swallows and clears this throat. “do something,” he says and walks away, leaving us alone.
I look back at Pike, and I guess I should go, too, and leave him to it, but instead, I slide my hands into my pockets and gaze around. “The sawdust smells good,” I tell him.
A smile crosses his eyes, and he nods, looking around. “Yeah. It’s like home to me.”
When our gazes meet again, heat pools low in my belly, and I forget to breathe for a moment. I quickly look away.
“I apologize for going off on you yesterday,” he says. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Cramer was leering, and it was creepy. I got aggravated.” And then he clarifies, “Aggravated with him, I mean. I’m sorry I took it out on you.”
“I work in a bar,” I point out. “I’m used to a little leering. I can handle it.”
Really, I can stand up and fight for my honor all on my own. And so can Cole. If it ever occurs to him. Pike doesn’t need to feel responsible for me. I’m not his to take care of.
“Well, I’ll get going,” I tell him and start backing away.
But he stops me. “You wanna see?” he offers. “A little tour?”
I’ve already seen a great deal of the place, since I was here sandbagging last week, but I nod anyway. “Yeah, sure.”
He leads me toward the back of the building, and I wonder if I’m supposed to be wearing a hard hat, but he’s not wearing one, either, so I don’t ask.
“It’s supposed to be office space for that casino riverboat that’s coming to the area,” he explains. “There’ll be a pavilion at the dock with restaurants and event space, but they’re going to run everything from here. Hiring, finances, advertising…”
He shoots me a smile, and I look away again.
“It’s like a skeleton,” I comment. “When do the walls go up?”
“Once the plumbers and electricians get everything squared away,” he replies, “I install the insulation and then we start walling it up. You’ll see rooms instead of bones.”
We enter a large space at the rear corner of the building, and unlike the other rooms, there’s an entire wall without beams. Like it’s going to be just one, huge picture window there. I step into the small adjacent space and peer over the beam in front of my face.
“What’s this space?”
He looks over at me. “It’s a private bathroom for this office.”
Must be nice. I stroll back into the office with him and walk over to the edge, looking out over the undeveloped land and green in the distance.
“Nice view.” I smile and flip my hair, spinning around in my pretend office like I own the place. “Yes, Christopher, would you please get Japan on the line? We need to discuss the production line in Malaysia,” I play.
He chuckles. “You have a male secretary?”
“A man can be anything,” I retort. “Don’t let your sex hold you back.”
He shakes his head at me, amusement curling his lips.
We settle into the ease we had the other night when we watched TV and ate pizza, and I follow him around the building, letting him explain the months to possibly year-long process of erecting a building from the ground up. He started doing this work before Cole was born and eventually formed his own company, able to make his own rules and have more control over the types of projects he takes on. It has to be a lot of responsibility, though, knowing you’re in charge of two dozen workers and the paychecks that support their families.
But still…he’s helping to grow our town, bringing work in, and getting jobs himself.
“You must be so proud to build things you get to see every day,” I tell him when we’re back down on the first floor. “Places where people will spend their lives and earn their livelihoods.”
“I never really thought about it like that.” He stops at the rear of the building, looking out at the acres of empty space beyond. “It’s my livelihood, too, I guess.”
I look out and notice an outdoor space attached to the back of the building. It’s large, and I can already see a marble fountain haphazardly placed for later setup.
“Is this going to be a courtyard?” I inquire, noting there’s no roof. “That’s a nice idea. Do you build that, too?”
“Oh, no,” he replies. “A landscaping company will come when the building is nearly complete and take care of planting the grass, trees, and installing the aesthetics.”
Right up my alley. I love the before and after, seeing an outdoor space transform.
“I’ll let you know when they start,” he offers as if reading my mind. “You can pop in every now and then to see the progress.”
I smile. “Thanks.”
I’d like that, actually. Aside from my teachers, no one else I know really enjoys stuff like this. Our eyes meet, and I realize that’s something I’ve been missing. I don’t have a lot in common with the other people in my life, do I?
We’re locked on each other but only for a moment. A worker passes by, carrying lumber over his shoulder, and Pike suddenly straightens, breaking contact with me and nodding a ‘hello’ to him.
“Well, I should…” I jerk my thumb behind me, “get going, I guess.”
“Yeah,” he answers. “Me, too.”
I back away. “See you at home. I’ll have dinner ready by five.”
He just nods and turns back to his work.
Home. Not the house? It’s not my home, after all.
I walk back to the car and climb in, feeling more out of sorts than when I came here. Dinner by five? Cole doesn’t get off until six. Did I suddenly just forget he exists?
I wrap the towel around my body and gather up my dirty clothes, the bathroom still thick with steam. Cracking open the door, I peek into the hallway to make sure it’s clear, and dash across to my bedroom, closing my door behind me.
I keep forgetting to take clean clothes in with me, so I can get dressed right after my shower. I’m still used to having my own place and not caring if I crossed the hallway in my towel. At least I’m remembering to put on pajama shorts if I go downstairs for water in the middle of the night. Doubt I wouldn’t die of embarrassment if Cole’s dad caught me in my underwear and T-shirt.
Taking my brush, I comb out my wet hair and pick out something to wear to bed. I see a glow from outside and walk over to the blinds, peering through a crack. It’s dark out—after nine by now—but Pike is still at it, in the driveway, working on my VW.
He’s pretty awesome. Cole’s been busy on everyone else’s car but mine, although I suspect it’s just an excuse for him to get out of the house.
A bright shop light hangs from my propped-up hood, and Pike circles the VW and leans over, unscrewing something. He’s been out there since after dinner. He wanted Cole’s help, but of course, he’s out again. I think he’s waiting for him.
A couple of women walk down the sidewalk, dressed in workout clothes, and stop, smiling and calling out something to Pike.
The brunette on the left jogs in place, even though she was just speed-walking a moment ago, while the redhead puts her hands on her hips and gives him a flirty smile.
“Seriously?” I mumble. Who the hell goes walking this time of night? “Smooth, ladies. Real smooth.”
Like they didn’t see Pike out here working through their kitchen windows, shirtless with muscles flexing against his tanned skin, still looking every inch the bad boy hottie they drooled over in high school, probably. Then they gave each other a call up to hatch a plan to don their active wear and ‘just happen to jog past his place’, right? I mean, it would be rude, after all, not to say hi, right?
I roll my eyes. Suburban housewives, bored with their husbands, looking to stir up shit like Pike Lawson is a pit stop to be used to excite them.
I release the blinds and back away.
I’m being so mean.
So, they’re flirting. So, what?
I’ve taken pride in the fact that I’m a pretty level-headed, calm person, but my behavior has been erratic lately. The move, the bills, Cole… I’m out of sorts, uncertain, and all over the place. I don’t like it.
I start a playlist on my phone, Pity Party droning out to match my pissy mood as the bedroom door clicks shut behind me. I stop brushing my hair, turning my head.
Cole is suddenly standing in the room, leaning against the door, and staring at me with a look in his eyes I know all too well. When did he get home?
Heat rises to my skin, and I clutch my towel, but I don’t know why.
He crosses his arms over his chest as his eyes scale down my body and back up.
“What?” I ask when he says nothing.
“Drop the towel.”
Now? But his father is still awake, and...
“Come on,” I protest but try to keep my tone light and calm. “It’s getting late, and I’m exhausted.”
“I’ll get you in the mood.” He pushes off the door and moves toward me, his six feet easily crowding the small bedroom. “I never see you anymore. I miss you.”
He steps up and wraps his arms around my waist, gazing down at me. I can’t help but smile a little.
I bite my bottom lip playfully and grip his soft blond hair on the top of his head, bringing him in for a quick kiss. “I was home last night,” I reply. “You weren’t.”
I pull away from him, and tighten my towel around me.
“I invited you out,” he points out.
“I was tired,” I say, but I can feel everything that’s been building inside of me for days about to bust free. “And I’ve had to do your chores, so...”
“I didn’t tell you to do that.”
“It had to get done.”
The desire I felt for him a moment ago has faded, and there’s a wall rising between us now.
But he tries to navigate around it anyway. “My dad’s not going to kick me out if I’m a couple days late mowing the lawn, Jordan,” he says, trying to put his arms around me again. “You take things too seriously.”
“No, you didn’t do it, because you knew I would.” I turn away. “As usual. You need to get it together and stop doing the bare minimum.”
He lets out a sigh and releases me, turning toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I can’t listen to this right now,” he grits out. “You know why I’m always gone? Because of that.” He points at my face. “The way you look at me. I’m tired of not feeling good enough.”
“Oh, that’s awesome,” I shoot back sarcastically, grabbing a pair of his boxers out of a drawer and one of his flannel shirts off the chair. “I’m only here to be with you, and you’re always gone. You know, I spend more time with your dad! Don’t you think that’s a little awkward for him?”
“You got somewhere else to go, then go if you’re so uncomfortable.”
My breath catches in my throat, and I glare at him. “Are you serious? You’re actually saying that to me right now.”
I already feel like a pathetic freeloader when I’m not the one who got us evicted. I’ve always been there for him. We’re friends, dammit. We’ve always looked out for each other. I would never make him feel.... Son of a bitch.
I pull on the boxers and throw off the towel, pulling on the red and brown flannel shirt and buttoning it. Tears spring to my eyes.
My sister was right. I could’ve sucked it up for a few weeks, worked at The Hook, and been able to stay in my place. At least I wouldn’t feel like I’m not wanted.
He moves toward me again, his voice softer. “All I’m saying is it would be nice to put the stress behind us once in a while and show each other a little attention. I can’t remember the last time we had sex.”
And after the sex? Everything that’s wrong would still be wrong.
“Maybe if I weren’t doing all your shit around here and working until 2 a.m., I wouldn’t be so tired all the time,” I tell him. “And maybe if you were helping me save money, so we could get our own place again instead of drinking your paychecks away every damn night, I wouldn’t be so worried and stressed about money. I feel fucking alone. Where are you?”
He just shakes his head, and I can’t help the tears from welling. But I refuse to cry. We need to talk, and he won’t. He won’t give me the one thing that will fix this.
He comes for me, taking my face in his hands. “Just shut up for a while and fuck me.”
He kisses me, and I squeeze my eyes shut, the tears now spilling over and streaming down my cheeks. Goddamn him. He steals my breath, covering my mouth and moving over my lips hard and forceful, and I want to give in. The stress and the worry have gone on so long and been too much, and if I could just forget for a while it would feel so good.
Gripping my ass in both hands, he lifts me up, forcing my legs around his waist, and we fall back on the bed, him coming down on top of me.
Something holds me back, though. Like I’m back in the trailer park with my dad and stepmom. They don’t see me.
Cole doesn’t see me. I could be anyone right now.
I tear my mouth away and push at him. “Get off me.”
“Baby, please.” He kisses my neck, and I know him well enough to know that sound in his voice. He’s upset, too. “Just be a girlfriend for tonight. We used to have fun. Let’s just have fun.”
“No.” I shake my head, tensing. “I’m pissed at you. I need some air.”
And I’ll feel worse when it’s over.
He keeps kissing me, and I growl, shoving him off. He finally lets go and falls to the bed next to me. He barely hesitates and then he’s on his feet and yanking open the bedroom door, charging out of the room.
In moments, I hear his engine start, tires peel, and then he’s gone.
Asshole.
But part of me can’t help but breathe easier now, too.
I feel like I belong here more when he’s not here.
He never used to treat me like that. Tears well in my eyes, but I blink, pushing them away.
Rising from the bed, I go over to the TV stand and pick up the stack of bills to be paid laying on top. A water bill from the old apartment, a doctor bill still not completely paid off from when I thought I broke my ankle last summer, a phone bill, and two of Cole’s credit card bills about to go to collection. I don’t have medical insurance, and every day I’m scared something is going to happen that will take me to the hospital for a twenty-thousand-dollar emergency room visit.
I have no working car, and even if I did, I can barely afford the insurance anyway, with whatever extra student loan money I’ll have after my tuition is paid in the fall going to living expenses. I can take out another loan, but I don’t want to be weighed down with that bill for the rest of my life, so I try not to take out much.
And every time I check the mail, there’s a new, unfortunate surprise.
Opening the top drawer of the bureau, I pull out my tips I’d made the last week that I haven’t deposited yet and spread out the wrinkled bills in my hands.
A hundred-forty-two dollars. The hole I’m in keeps getting deeper, because I’m not making enough to dig myself out.
I stuff the cash back into the drawer and pick out the wet T-shirt contest flyer I’d hidden in there, as well, and look at it. Three hundred dollars isn’t enough to make it worth it, but bartending at The Hook or…doing what my sister does and bringing home that kind of money might be.
For a moment, I can’t help entertain the idea. To be able to have cash in my pocket that isn’t already the gone the moment I earn in. To have nice things. To have a car.
But then I think of Cole and Jay and the guys I went to school with coming in and watching me, and I shove the paper back into the drawer, wanting to throw up. Strangers might not be unbearable, but I’m not dancing for the guys I went to high school with.
And bartending there would be almost as bad. The outfits I’d have to wear, the customers I’d be serving…
Leaving the bedroom, I head downstairs and round the bannister, continuing into the kitchen, through the laundry room, and out the back door.
The air hits me, and suddenly, I can breathe again. The fragrant trees and freshly mowed grass fills my nostrils, and aside from the light illuminating the pool underneath the water, it’s completely dark back here.
I walk to the deep end and sit on the edge, submerging my legs in the water halfway up my calves. The cool water covers my skin like a hug, instantly easing my heated nerves.
Cole will be back late. By then, we’ll both have calmed down, he’ll climb into bed, I’ll spoon him, and he’ll layer his hands with mine, our signal to each other that everything will be fine.
I need to relax. I’m nineteen, and I have money worries and relationship problems. Who doesn’t at my age? I’m too hard on myself. Pike seems fine with me being here, so I’ll continue to pull my weight, and he won’t have cause for complaint.
And worse comes to worse, my father would never turn me away at the door. Everything will be fine. It might not be right now, but it will be.
I smile a little, almost convinced. Looking down at the blue surface of the water, and the white light illuminating the clean bottom of the pool, I feel a sudden urge to prove it.
I can do it.
Everything will be fine.
And I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and leap, pushing myself off the edge and into the water. Bubbles pour out of my mouth as I release air and sink to the bottom of the pool. My hair floats around me, the water caressing my scalp, and the flannel billows up as I cross my legs and sit on the floor of the pool.
I don’t know when I started doing this. I didn’t grow up with a pool, of course, but maybe it was summer camp when I was twelve or Cam taking me to the public pool as a kid that I realized how scared I could get of the unknown. I like to challenge that part of myself, because it boosts my confidence when I succeed.
Taking my laundry down to the seedy basement at the old apartment by myself. Sleeping in the dark without even the hall light on. Driving home at two o’clock in the morning after a shift and not checking the backseat to make sure I’m alone in the car.
I look around, twisting my head and seeing nothing but water, but my vision only takes me so far and the view fogs into nothing. Anything could come swimming out of the distance and toward me. Anything could be behind me. Anything could come up from the drain or dive in from the surface.
I close my eyes.
If I can do this, Cole and I will be fine. Everything will be good, and I’ll just keep trucking.
My lungs start to ache, but I keep my eyes closed and remain still. Something is staring at me. And there’s something slinking through the water, heading straight for me. I feel it. It’s coming for me.
I know it’s my fear, so I keep my eyes shut, pressing on. I know everything will be fine. It’s my imagination.
I can do it. I can do it. My lungs stretch painfully, and my throat burns, but I squeeze my fists. Just another second. One more second.
But suddenly, the water shakes around me, and I pop my eyes open, knowing that it’s not my imagination this time. I look up and see Pike just as he’s reaching out for me. He grabs me under my arms, and I bat at him, shaking my head.
My lungs are done, though, and I can’t take anymore. Pushing him away through the water, I plant my feet on the bottom of the pool and push off, shooting for the surface.
I break through, coughing with hair plastered to my face. I hear him spit water out next to me.
“What the hell are you doing?” I growl.
“I thought you were drowning! What the hell? What were you doing?”
I cough again, wheezing as I draw in a lungful of air. “Facing my fears. Damn,” I grumble as I swim for the edge.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I swing my arm up and over the ledge, my muscles weak from the scare he just gave me.
“Are you sure?”
He hauls himself up and climbs out of the pool, reaching out a hand for me to take.
I ignore it and the question, pushing myself up to sit on the edge again.
If he saw me go into the water, then I guess he was probably wondering what I was doing there, but still…
I almost beat the challenge.
The shirt hangs on me, heavy and wet, but I can’t take it off. There’s nothing on underneath. I cough again, clearing my throat and catching my breath. He stands next to me, quiet.
“I heard you and Cole fighting,” he finally says.
From outside? Great.
He squats down next to me, facing the water, too. I can’t imagine what he must be thinking. I’m fighting with his son, and then I’m diving fully-clothed into a pool. Yeah…
I take a deep breath, making sure to calm my tone to ease him. “I make deals with myself,” I say to him but don’t meet his eyes. “If I can do something I don’t want to do, then everything will be fine. If I do something that scares me, then I can beat whatever else comes.” I half-smile. “I don’t like to swim alone. It creeps me out. Especially at night.”
I finally turn my gaze on him. He’s staring down at the pool, listening.
“It’s a game I play with myself,” I tell him.
He nods, understanding.
“Cole doesn’t want me here,” I say, dropping my eyes as needles stab my throat. “I don’t think he wants me at all anymore.”
I don’t know why I’m telling him this, but he listens. On the rare occasions we have talked, he seems to want to hear. It’s easy with him.
“He’s young,” he explains. “We all do and say selfish things when we think we own the world.”
“Do I?” I shoot back.
I mean, I’m no angel, but I know I treat Cole better than he treats me.
Pike doesn’t say anything, but I can see him looking at me.
I’m a pushover. I walked away from my ex and my parents, but I never let them have it. I never fought back. I just ran.
Aside from my sister, Cole is all I have, and I let shit slide, because he was more to me than just a boyfriend.
“Can I ask you a question?” Pike says.
I glance at him, my heart skipping a beat at seeing his eyes cast down and locked on me. The reflection of the water makes them look cloudy blue.
“How did you and Cole meet?” he asks.
And despite my aggravation, I smile a little.
My eyes drop to the scar on my thumb, and I lick my lips. “When I was sixteen, I worked at a car wash,” I tell him. “No other girls worked there, but it was all I could find, so I gutted it out with a team full of guys.”
I feel the heat from his body next to me, and I time the rise and fall of his chest, finding myself matching it.
“I got a lot of crap,” I continue, remembering the snide comments every time I bent over or leaned into a car. “Teenage guys can be…”
“Yeah,” Pike finishes for me knowingly, humor in his voice. We exchange a grin.
He used to be a teenage guy, too, after all, I guess.
“There was a guy named Nick who always got people off my back,” I go on, remembering. “He was nice to me and talked to me. He didn’t leer or act immature.”
I absently rub my finger over the scar.
“One day he invites me to hang out, and he brings Cole along.” I look over at Pike, the anger from earlier suddenly gone now. “We all became friends, had a lot of fun, and I think I became closer to them than I have been to anyone. Except my sister, that is.”
He nods, looking like he’s thinking. And then he asks, “And you and Cole started dating? How did Nick take that?”
I turn my eyes back out at the pool, taking in a deep breath. “He never knew,” I say quietly.
Pike remains quiet, the tension in the air thick now. I said he never knew. Not he doesn’t know.
I clear my throat. “One night, a couple years ago, before Cole and I were seeing each other,” I tell him. “He and Nick were out together. Cole had too much to drink, and he passed out. Nick caught a ride home with someone else.”
Tears prick the backs of my eyes, and my mouth is so dry.
“The driver lost control of his truck, it rolled, and all the kids in the back of the bed went tumbling out.”
“Oh, my God,” he says under his breath, dropping his head.
I finish. “Nick was caught under. He died a couple days later.”
I squeeze my fists to try to keep from crying. He was the only person I knew who died. It wasn’t like my mom leaving. Nick didn’t want to go. He lived for video games, and his hair was always hanging over his glasses, and I miss all of his quirks.
Sometimes I wonder what happened to his little brother’s Nerf gun that we all used and all skinned our thumbs on.
“Jesus Christ,” Pike mumbles. “How did I not know about that? I faintly remember hearing something, but I didn’t know Cole was friends with anyone in that accident.”
I sit up straight and nod. “Yeah, Cole…” I pause, trying to find my words. “He had a hard time getting over it.”
Pike’s eyes narrow on me.
“He was supposed to be Nick’s ride that night,” I explain.
Realization crosses his face, and I’m sure he feels like he should know all this, but it makes sense Cole wouldn’t tell many people. He was ashamed.
“We didn’t let each other out of our sight after that,” I tell him.
I was hurting, Cole was hurting, and I was the only one who knew why he felt responsible, so I was the only one he could talk to.
And after a while, it just became habit. Us, side by side. Us, turning to each other. Us, wanting what was familiar, constant, and safe.
Us, holding onto Nick by holding onto each other. We both found ourselves desperate for one true friend. He and I hurting over Nick, but also me just getting away from my ex-boyfriend. It was so easy to dive into each other and escape. So easy.
“I’m so sorry, Jordan,” Pike says. “Are you okay?”
I peer up at him.
“Sorry.” He falters, looking away. “It’s stupid to ask that now, I guess.”
No, not stupid at all. It’s nice to have someone to talk to.
“Everything’s fine. Or it will be,” I say. “It has to be.”
He darts his gaze to me again, and I gesture to the pool.
“I sat at the bottom of a dark pool with my eyes closed until I couldn’t hold my breath anymore. It has to be okay now, right?” I ask.
He snorts, his mouth turning up in a grin.
He rises and holds out his hand again, and this time I take it. He pulls me up, and we head for the house, but I notice the candle still burning on the wooden table.
Darting over, I lean across the table, close my eyes, and blow, the candle extinguishing. Turning back, I follow him up the steps.
“Can I ask you another question?” he prods.
“Shoot.”
“Why do you do that?” He glances back at me.
“What?”
“The closing-your-eyes-to-blow-out-a-candle thing,” he explains. “I’ve seen you do it a few times now.”
I shrug, not realizing he’d noticed. I thought I’d gotten pretty good at doing it quickly and under the radar.
“Just a quirk.” I follow him through the screen door. “Birthday wishes don’t always come true, so I don’t waste a chance when I blow out a candle.”