“Trent just texted,” Kate says. “He’s already down at the spot.”
“I can’t figure you two out.”
She rolls her eyes while combating the traffic of South Beach. “Me, neither. One minute he’s cold and the next . . . mildly warm.”
We laugh because we’ve both been seeing this back and forth with Trent. Not that he’s flirty or being overly obvious, but there are definite hints that he sees something intriguing in Kate. The two of them talk and text, which is starting to cause a little rift between her and Caleb. When we returned from Key West, she and Caleb made it official and have been seeing each other exclusively ever since—three weeks to be exact.
With summer right around the corner, the beach is more packed than usual, but I still decided to tag along with Kate and relax in the sun while she catches some waves. Ever since spring break, things have been tense, not only at the condo but also with my therapy. I still struggle with blaming myself, wondering how much I provoked the situation with Liam. I wish I had some sort of memory, some sort of something to help me make sense of that night.
I’ve been seeing Dr. Garrison for almost two months, and it was just this past week that he mentioned how well I have been doing and decided to drop our sessions down to just once a week. In a way, the reduction was like an accomplishment. A small part of me even felt like celebrating, as if I’d crossed a milestone in my healing. But then I came home, the sun set, and I counted boats with the comfort of light from the shell.
For the most part, sleeping is getting easier, even though I still don’t like the dark. My nights of restlessness are becoming scarcer, but at least once a week, my mind becomes overloaded with questions and fears.
Those are the nights I miss Micah.
He hasn’t returned to my room since we came back from our trip.
“Earth to Ady.”
Kate’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and when I look up, we’re already parked. I step out of the car, grab my beach bag, and start applying sunblock while Kate retrieves her surfboard that’s half hanging out the rolled down window of the hatch back.
My feet sink into the sand as we make our way down to the water. When I find a clear spot, I drop my bag and spread out my large towel before lying on my stomach. I get myself comfortable and situated, looking out over the water with my arms folded beneath my chin. Kate jogs into the water and starts paddling out to Trent. Resting my cheek down, I spot Micah with his blond hair reflecting in the bright sun as he stands down a ways at the shore. I hadn’t known he’d be here, and suddenly, I feel like maybe I should leave.
Hidden behind the dark lenses of my sunglasses, I watch as he takes his skimboard, runs along the edge of the water, and jumps on, flipping the board beneath his feet and then jumping a decent wave. My tummy trills as I spy, but at the same time, sinks into itself. The feeling pangs in my gut, forcing me to turn my head the other way. As the sun melts into my skin, the heat soothes me, and after a while, I doze off, but it doesn’t last long when Kate flops down next to me.
Squinting against the sun, I peer up at her.
“You’re going to get raccoon eyes wearing those sunglasses out here.”
I sit up and look down the stretch of sand to find Micah.
“He left.”
Pushing my sunglasses back on my head, I look at Kate. “Who?”
“Micah,” she says. “So, are you ever going to tell me what happened in Key West?”
“Nothing happened,” I tell her for the hundredth time.
She shakes her head. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
She takes a drink from her water bottle before twisting the cap back on and turning to face me. “You two have been weird since that trip. We all see it. Whenever you’re in the same room, you barely look at each other.”
Of course, she’s right. Not that I want to keep my distance from him, but it’s clear that Micah’s hurt and is keeping his distance from me. And in return, I try to stay out of his way because I feel horrible about the whole situation. It isn’t as if we don’t still talk and hang out, but when we do, it’s awkward. We both tiptoe around each other, and I miss him and the way he used to be with me.
Trent then makes his appearance as he comes out of the water. He drops his board onto the sand and stands over me. “Scoot,” he says with a smirk, and when I do, he sits next to me on my towel.
“Even Trent notices.”
“Trent notices what?” he questions Kate in third person as I sit between the two of them.
“That something’s up with her and Micah.”
“Nothing is up.”
Trent laughs. “Dude,” he nearly exclaims. “The second that boy saw you were here, he packed his shit up and left.”
His words twist in my chest, and when I slouch over, I turn my head to him, asking hesitantly, “Do you know?”
He looks into my eyes and reads exactly what it is I’m trying to say. Trent is Micah’s oldest friend, so if anyone would know, it would be him. When he nods, I pull my knees to my chest and drop my head.
“Give the boy what he wants and put him out of his misery.”
His words break a giggle from between my lips, and I poke him in the ribs.
He laughs, shrugging. “The two of you are way too serious about this shit.”
“Relationships are serious,” Kate shoots at Trent.
“We’re not in a relationship,” I defend.
“And this is why I don’t get wrapped up in this junk with girls. You all are way too intense.”
“So, you mean to tell me that you haven’t come across one girl that would be worth the intensity?”
He glances quickly over to Kate before returning to me. “Nope.” He then stands, grabs his board, and heads back into the water.
“He’s a dick,” she mumbles beneath her breath, but there was something questionable in that look of his. “Come on,” she then says on a softer tone. “What are you not telling me?”
Sighing, I finally admit, “He kissed me.”
Her eyes widen, and a hint of a smile grows on her face. “And that’s bad because?”
“He’s my best friend.”
“And?” she questions, drawing out the word.
“And . . . it’s just complicated.”
“Well, do you like him?”
“Like I said, he’s my best friend.”
“You know what I mean.”
I do, but it’s so much more than whether or not I like him. I’m trying so hard to deal with so many deep-seated issues in my life that I don’t think I have the capacity to deal with anything other than taking care of myself. It’s so hard to see beyond the walls around me that are keeping me safe enough so that I can move forward.
“Your silence is telling me you do,” she says.
“Can we not talk about this?”
“All I’m saying is that you have a hell of a guy, who’s clearly interested in you. It’s beyond me why he’s still single.”
Her words echo in my head. The whole time I’ve known Micah, he never once had a girlfriend. And it isn’t because he can’t get one. In high school, girls would flock to the shore to watch him skim. I heard how they talked about him. They talked about Kason the same way. The two of them, even Trent, had the pick of the litter. Even now in Miami, with Micah’s photo shoots popping up in local magazines and online, he could easily have a girl on each arm.
Sure, he had a few hookups here and there in high school, but he wasn’t anything like Trent and nothing ever got serious. But since I moved here, not once have I seen him with a girl or even heard him talk about one. These thoughts latch on to me, sending emotions swirling from within—emotions I’m not sure I can make sense of but they ache nonetheless.
“What’s the hang-up?”
My ex-boyfriend, the attack, my insecurities, my fear, my trust, my confusion, I answer silently. And that’s only the beginning of my issues. For the rest of the day, I’m unable to find a moment that isn’t occupied with some sort of tension. It follows me like a shadow even when shadows go to sleep with the rest of the world. Not me, though. I remain awake, missing the company of the guy across the hall.
It’s been three weeks since he has come into my room. Three weeks of wishing there weren’t this wedge driven between us. Three weeks of selfishly wanting my friend, but unselfishly giving him his space. I’m caught in a web of not knowing what to do as my heart tangles itself deeper and deeper into the what-ifs.
I know I’m not ready to unleash my heart after it broke so badly. I’m just now starting to piece it back together, and it isn’t an easy feat. I work hard every day to take steps in the right direction to restore all that I lost: hope, faith, self-esteem, safety, love, self-worth. The list is endless. What Liam did to me was more than just physical. He didn’t just rape my body—he raped my soul.
Maybe it’s like what Micah once said to me about going to therapy. That I’ll never be ready to face this head on, but that I need to do it anyway. I took his advice. I clutched it tightly and never let go, and here I am. Two months of therapy, of coming face to face with everything I’m terrified of, has made me a little stronger. A little braver. A little healthier.
I swallow down a piece of that bravery and slip out of bed. It’s after midnight, and when I crack my door, I see that his is closed. With my heart in my throat, I have no idea what I’m doing when I turn the knob, step inside, and shut the door behind me. He’s awake, and as we stare at each other through the darkness of the room, he slowly sits up and leans back against the headboard.
I’m scared to move any farther, but what if moving is exactly what I should do? What if I take this step and force my heart to start beating again? Maybe it will take away the remnants of pain that remain with me. There’s no question that this feels too soon, too sudden, too brash, but I need him.
I’ve always needed Micah.
I needed him when Kason cheated on me. I needed him after the attack. I needed him when my whole world came tumbling down on top of me. But I also needed him for everything in between—because it’s him. He’s always been a place of solace and strength. An unwavering friend who makes everything better.
What if he’s more than just a friend?
“What are you doing in here?”
I shrug and admit, “I don’t really know.”
He doesn’t move. And why should he when he’s the only one who’s done so? Timidly, I take a step forward and wonder if it’s a step toward healing, moving on—learning to live again. My knees, wobbly and nervous, lead me over to his bed, and when he shifts over, I take a seat.
“I miss you,” I finally confess, my voice only a whisper.
He doesn’t respond, forcing me to fill the silence between us.
“I don’t know how to do this.” My voice cracks because I’m so scared of this choice I’m making. “I don’t even know if I should or even if I can.”
His hand slides over the top of mine, and he takes it in his. “What do you feel?”
“Scared.”
“That makes two of us.”
“What do you have to be scared of?”
He brings his other hand to my cheek and slowly slides it down to my neck. “Of ruining this,” he says. “Of losing you as a friend if this doesn’t work out.”
He then tugs me toward him, wraps his arms around me, and slips us down into the bed. He settles me beneath him before shifting to his side, and with my head on his pillows, I stare up into his eyes that say so much with so little.
“A part of me feels like I’m doing something wrong.”
His brows furrow. “Why?”
“Because of him.” I don’t dare say his name, but I don’t have to. Truth is, there are still pieces of my heart that are attached to Kason.
“Tell me what to do here because I need to know where your heart is.”
“It’s right here.” I say the words because I want to believe them. To believe that, even though I once gave it to Kason, there’s still a possibility that I can give it to another. But the only other I can see myself handing it over to is the one who has me tucked beneath him. The one who’s heart is thumping against my chest. The one who’s making it hard to breathe steadily. The one who I trusted enough to save me.
His body is so warm on top of mine, but no amount of heat could possibly kill the thousands of butterflies chopping their wings inside my stomach. His hair falls over his forehead, and when I reach up to push it away, I find myself pulling instead. I hold on to him like I’m holding on to a savior, and as I bring him toward me, the words, “I love you,” fall from his lips right before they touch me in a kiss that’s so soft, so cautious, so tender that I swear it heals.