I leave Sam standing in the dark. But a distance had already formed between us, even before I walked away.
Tears grip on to my lashes as I run back to the fire and into Matt’s waiting arms.
“I don’t know why he’s being so mean,” I sob. Matt’s hold tightens around me, and I breathe in the heady combination of campfire smoke, sweat, and a hint of eucalyptus—must be his soap.
“He doesn’t get it,” he whispers against my ear. “But I do. It’s not about her being transgender. It’s about her deception and her lack of consideration for you. She didn’t allow for the possibility that you might not have wanted to live her lie, and that’s not fair.”
I nod and sniffle. “Thank you for saying she.”
“You’re welcome. I can admit when I’m wrong.”
My eyes are closed, my cheek soft against his chest, and I vaguely register the crunching-leaves sound of Sam making his way back to the house. I don’t open my eyes until I hear the distant clap of the door closing.
“You know,” Matt murmurs, “I know what you’re going through, in a way.”
I pull back just enough to look up into his eyes, and rest my chin on his strong torso. “You do?”
“I mean, not the exact same thing, but I’ve had a lot of family shit to deal with too. I don’t talk about it a lot.”
“You can trust me,” I say.
His eyes soften even further. “I know I can.” He takes a deep breath, and my belly moves with his intake of air; we’re that close. “My father left my family a couple years ago. He and my mother were married for twenty-three years. But for the last year or so of their marriage he’d been seeing another woman, someone way younger than he was. I think she was, like, twenty-five or something. I know, how original.” He sighs, his eyes skyward, and I squeeze him tighter. “The worst part is, my mom found out but didn’t leave him. She depended on him too much—emotionally, financially, everything. So she kept it from my little sister and me; she protected him. But one day we were all sitting at the breakfast table and out of nowhere he got up and left. He didn’t pack any of his stuff or anything. It was as if he couldn’t bear even one more minute in the house with us. And he never came back.”
“Oh, Matt, I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. “That’s awful.”
He shrugs, trying to make it seem like he’s not that bothered. “He’s an asshole. We’re better off without him.”
“Yeah.” I nod.
“But anyway, I get it. I get why you’re upset with your mom. My dad did the same thing. He lied, and was only thinking of himself, and the rest of our lives were affected because of it. And he doesn’t seem to care.”
I haven’t even known Matt for a full day and already he understands me better than my supposed best friend.
We cling to each other in silence.
Then he leans down slowly, and lightly grazes his lips against mine.
Even though we’re already pressed against each other at nearly every place along the length of our bodies, it’s that feather-light touch of his mouth that electrifies me.
An involuntary sound of want escapes me, and for a nanosecond I’m embarrassed, but apparently it’s the encouragement Matt was waiting for. He lets out a groan of his own and deepens the kiss. His tongue dips into my mouth, dancing with mine, tasting me. His lips move both thoughtfully and passionately.
It’s different than kissing Sam. Just as good, but more … loaded. A promise of things to come.
The whole world is dark, and this boy is my lighthouse. He listened to me, he trusted me. He’s on my side. There’s no past between us, nothing to turn bad.
I want to lose myself in him.
The urge to keep going ignites in my blood, and my body takes over. I wrap my arms around Matt’s neck, pulling his face even harder against mine. I slip the cloth band from his messy bun around my wrist and run my fingers through his hair. My knee slides between his legs.
I have no idea what I’m doing, but Matt seems to be responding.
His hands creep up my back, under my shirt, grazing my bra strap. No one’s ever touched me there except doctors and sports massage therapists. But it feels good, his confident touches somehow even better than an expert masseuse’s strong strokes. His hands are warm, and I shiver as they glide across my skin, which is still chilled from my excursion away from the fire with Sam.
Don’t think about Sam right now.
“Let’s go to my room,” Matt says, low, and nips at my bottom lip.
I remember Jane and Ezra, and Gabby and Meadow. I know what will happen if I go with him.
My body screams, Yes!
My mind says, No.
The echo of Sam whispers, You’re unraveling.
That wakes me up.
Matt is nice and gorgeous and says all the right things. The newness, the novelty of him, was exactly what I needed today. But this, I don’t think I need. Not tonight. This isn’t what I came here for.
Somehow, I make my body get on board with my mind. I take a step back and look down at the ground in front of me while I try to catch my breath.
“What’s wrong?” Matt asks.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I … I think we should stop.”
“I’m sorry if I assumed something I shouldn’t have. You just … were so into it.” He seems genuinely confused.
“I am,” I say. “I mean, I was. I just …” How do I explain? Eventually, I just say, “I have a lot going on right now,” and leave it at that.
He nods. “I get it.” I can tell he’s disappointed.
“I guess … we should get some sleep?”
“Good idea.”
He throws some dirt on the fire, and we go inside. I realize I don’t have a room to sleep in. No way am I going to share a bed with either Matt or Sam tonight. I say good night to Matt, then go into the living room and curl up on the couch, pulling the soft cotton throw over me.
The house is silent, still, and very, very dark. There are no streetlights outside, and the moon and stars are blocked by clouds now. I’m the only one downstairs. I can barely see my own hand in front of my face. It’s a little scary.
With nothing to distract me, my thoughts start tumbling down a slide.
Sam hates me.
Matt is probably mad at me.
I have no idea what’s going to happen tomorrow.
And Mellie’s considered suicide. She had to take off work this week for mental health reasons. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
I sit up. Hands shaking, I reach into my pocket for my phone. The light from the screen is shockingly bright, like a spotlight has been turned on me.
“Dara?” Mom answers before the first ring is complete. “Are you okay?” She sounds … not herself. But I don’t know if it’s because she’s having a hard time, or if I’m just hearing her voice differently now.
“Yes, I’m okay.”
I can hear her exhale all the way down the line. “Thank goodness. Where are you?”
“In South Carolina.”
“South Carolina? Why?”
“This is where the Pembrokes live now.”
There’s a brief pause. “So you’re with them.”
“Sort of. I’m with Catherine. William and Ruth are coming tomorrow.”
I wait for her disapproval, her protest. It doesn’t come. Instead, she asks, “Is Sam okay?”
Physically, yeah. Emotionally, I think I screwed everything up. Big time. “Yes, he’s fine. Mom, listen. Are you okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“That email you sent today. It scared me.”
“Oh, honey.” Her voice is softer, less frantic now that she knows we’re alive and in no imminent danger. “Don’t worry. I promise you I’ll be okay.”
I exhale. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. Dara?”
I wait.
“I’m sorry.”
The simplicity of the statement, with no buts or ands attached to it, makes me falter. “For what?”
“For everything.”
“Oh.”
“I wish you’d come home.”
A flash of my own bed and a plate of extra-spicy noodles appears in my mind. After everything that’s happened today, it sounds better than I would have imagined. But I can’t. “Not yet,” I say.
She sighs. “I understand.”
“You do?”
“I know I hurt you, Dara. I know none of this is fair to you.”
A lump forms in my throat. I swallow it back. “Thanks for saying that.”
“Thanks for calling.”
“Bye.” I end the call before she can say “I love you.” I’m not ready to say it back.