Chapter Thirty-Eight
Kassidy
#19—Tell the truth
It’s been two days since my meltdown in English. My parents let me stay home from school to process all of the things I’ve kept buried for so long. I’ve spent hours in my room, poring over old photos, allowing memories to wash over me.
I’ve had a lot of time to think about my past, but also my present. And I’d like that present to include Archer. I only hope it’s not too late.
Standing on his porch, I pull in a breath and reach up with a shaky hand. This time I will do what I couldn’t last time. This time I will be brave.
Hand trembling, I knock. Silence surrounds me. A breeze whisks through the trees, causing leaves to skitter on the ground like insects. I shiver and glance back at the driveway. It’s empty. Perhaps no one is home. I feel relief and disappointment. I’m about to leave, when the door pops open.
Archer stands in front of me, shirt off, gym shorts riding low on his hips. A sheen of sweat blankets his skin. “I’m sorry. I was just getting a workout in.” He appears embarrassed, although I’m not sure why. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
I know it’s rude to stare, but I can’t help myself. Dear God, his chest is nice. He wasn’t kidding. Biting my lip, I imagine running my hands over Archer’s abs and up his chest.
“Kassidy?” His voice causes me to flinch, my head snapping up so hard I wonder if I broke my neck. The smile on his face betrays that he caught me staring. Then again, how could he not? I was practically drooling all over myself.
“Yes?” My attempt at sounding calm falls flat. Instead, I sound like a kid who got caught stealing sweets from the kitchen. If sweets looked like Archer’s chest, I’d weigh five hundred pounds and be happy about it.
He runs a hand through his hair, and it sticks up all over his head. “Do you need something?”
Why did I come over here again? Blinking, I force myself out of the ab-induced coma. Then it all hits me. Our fight, our conversation a couple of days ago, me running away from him. Clearing my throat, I avert my gaze from his chest and stare into his eyes.
“I’m sorry I didn’t visit you when you were sick. I wanted to. I came by and dropped off soup and your chemistry homework.”
“That was you?”
I nod.
“Why didn’t you come in?”
“I was…” I bite down on my lower lip as the quivering starts up again. “I was too scared.”
Leaning against the doorframe, he narrows his eyes. “Kassidy, are you sick?”
“What?” My body heats up, my heart rate picking up speed. “Why? Do I look like it?” I place the back of my hand on my forehead, but it doesn’t feel warm.
“No. I don’t mean are you sick the way I was last week. I mean are you sick as in do you have a disease or something?”
Stepping back, I feel like I’ve been slapped. “A disease? What kind of disease?” Does he mean like a mental illness? Was my panic attack at the theatre that bad? Does he think I’m crazy?
“I don’t know. It’s just the only thing that makes sense. It would explain a lot—the healthy food, the panic attacks. And then there’s all the stuff you keep trying—painting, going to the Playlisters’ concert, starting a new school, running, joining cross-country.” His gaze pierces mine. “You’re checking things off your bucket list, aren’t you?”
Dizziness sweeps over me. “Um…no. I don’t think I’d call it a bucket list…”
“Please, Kassidy. Tell me what’s going on.” He crosses his arms over his chest, which only directs my gaze back to it.
This conversation would be easier if he’d put on a shirt.
“I’m not sick,” I say. “Remember how I told you about my best friend Kate?” He nods. “I told you we weren’t friends anymore, but I didn’t tell you why.” I blink against the moisture in my eyes and swallow down the emotion lodged in my throat. “She died last spring.” It’s not what he was expecting. I can tell by the way his eyes widen and his mouth goes slack. Staring at the ground, I take a few deep breaths. Tears fill my eyes again. I’ve cried more in the past six months than in all my years before.
“It happened suddenly. We weren’t expecting it.” The memories rush me like a linebacker going in for the tackle. “The weekend before we’d gone to a sleepover together. On Monday, everything was normal. Kate was her usual outgoing, charming self. But Tuesday things changed.” This is where I like to stop. Every word after this will obliterate me. It takes a minute before I can continue. “She was acting…off.” My eyes meet Archer’s. He’s barely moved since I started talking. “Like you were last week. I asked her if she felt okay, and she said no. Said she’d felt a little sick in the morning, but now she felt really sick. Headache, stomachache…she thought she was coming down with the flu.”
I recall the way she looked that day, her skin gray, her eyes bloodshot. If I’d known it would be the last time I’d see her, I would’ve stared a minute longer. I would’ve said something else. Anything else. Or maybe I would’ve kept her with me. A sob tears through my throat. Covering my mouth with my hand, I regain my composure, at least as well as I can. “A couple of days later she was gone. What we thought was the flu was bacterial meningitis.”
“I’m sorry,” Archer says so quiet I barely hear him.
“I couldn’t believe she was gone. At first I was in shock. Then I got angry and finally I felt depressed. Not just depressed over losing my best friend. I felt like I lost myself. I didn’t know who I was without Kate. She was my friend for years. Everything I did was with her, or for her, or because she wanted me to. But something else happened. This fear crept up. It got a hold of me and it’s had me ever since.” It’s weird how I’m still talking. Rambling, at this point. It’s like now that I’ve started, I can’t stop. “I used to think death only happened to old people after they’d lived a long, full life. And if it did happen to someone our age it was a freak accident. But now I know that it can happen to any of us without warning. And that’s why I was so scared when you got sick. It reminded me of her.”
“I’m sorry,” he says again.
“It’s not your fault,” I say. “I don’t have an official bucket list. I just sort of have this pact with myself that I’ll do all of the things I want. All of the things I wouldn’t have done when Kate was here.”
“Why wouldn’t you have done them?”
I shrug. “I was sorta Kate’s shadow. I did what she did. And if there was something I wanted to do and she thought it was stupid, I didn’t do it. After she was gone, I realized I had no idea who I was or what I liked.” I swipe at my damp face. “I guess now I’m just trying to figure that out.”
“Hey.” His tone is gentle—so gentle it breaks me a little. Glancing up, I catch his eye. “Thanks for telling me.”
“I like this. I like talking with you again.”
“Me, too.”
I want nothing more than to step forward, to feel his arms around me, maybe his lips on mine. But I know I don’t have the right to do that. For a few minutes, it seemed like things had gone back to the way they were, but I know better. Ella’s words from earlier ring in my head, reminding me of how much Archer and I have screwed this up.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to it.” My gaze flickers one last time to his bare chest, and a pang of longing jabs me.
“You sure you don’t want to come in?”
“I shouldn’t.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Why not?”
I pause, wanting nothing more than to give in to him. It would be so easy.
“C’mon. Please come in. I’ve missed you.” Stepping outside, he swaggers in my direction. I swallow thickly as he reaches out and takes my hand. I let him. When he tugs me forward, I don’t fight it. I allow my body to fall against his. My flesh buzzes along the surface, causing my hairs to stand on end. It takes all my willpower not to reach out and touch his bare skin. “I said I was sorry for how I acted at the track meet and I meant it.”
“I know. That’s not the issue.”
“Is it Ella?” he asks. “Miranda said she was saying stuff about us in English.”
“Yeah, she was,” I say quietly.
“It was lies. I’m not dating her. I would never do that.”
“Then why’d she say it?”
He shrugs. “Probably to make you jealous.”
“It worked,” I say sourly.
“Kassidy, you’re the only girl I want to be with. No one else.”
When I peer up at him, a strand of hair falls in my face. He tucks it behind my ear, the pads of his fingers trailing over my cheek. I shudder.
“I’ve felt this way since the first moment I ran into you at the concert. I know you think it’s because you didn’t know who Ross was, but that’s not true. I was attracted to you the minute you turned those pretty brown eyes on me. You stole my heart in that moment, and I would’ve liked you no matter what.” He smiles. “I mean, I’m not gonna lie, it would’ve sucked if I found out you were a huge fan of Ross’s. But it wouldn’t have stopped me from wanting to be with you.”
It’s everything I’ve wanted to hear from him. I fasten my arms around his waist, never wanting to let go. “I shouldn’t have friended Ross without talking to you first.”
He shakes his head. “No. Don’t do that. You can be friends with whoever you want.”
“I know. It’s just…I don’t even know why I friended him. I mean, I did want to say thank you for the tickets. But I also felt like it would be cool to be friends with a celebrity. I know that sounds stupid.”
Archer laughs. “It doesn’t. It makes sense.”
“Not because I like him…at least not that way. I mean, he’s cool. A lot cooler than I thought he’d be.” Oh, man. I’m doing it again. I’m rambling like an idiot. “But I like you.”
“It’s okay,” Archer cuts me off, his lips curling in amusement. “I understand.”
“I knew what had happened with Tiffany and stuff, and I should’ve been more sensitive.”
His hands rub up and down my arms, causing warm friction. I like it. “You shouldn’t have to pay for what she’s done. You’re not her. You’re different.”
I glance down at my less than stellar body. “Oh, yeah, I’m different than her all right.”
Archer furrows his brows. “Why’d you say it like that?’
“Oh, come on. I think we both know Tiffany’s got a lot I don’t.”
“No.” Archer tucks his finger under my chin, holding my head steady. Then he stares deeply into my eyes. With his gaze trained on mine, everything else falls away. It’s like we’re the only two people in the world. Like he has me under some kind of spell, one I never want to break. “You have a lot that she doesn’t. Trust me. Kassidy, I’ve never felt this way about anyone else. Not Tiffany. Not anyone.”
“Really?”
“Really.” He softly kisses my lips.
“Why? What do you like about me?” I know the question’s lame, but I’m too curious to keep quiet.
“Well, there’s the obvious hotness.” His gaze travels down my body. Cheeks heating up, I let out a nervous giggle. “But you also have something that no other girl I know has.”
“Oh, yeah?” I raise an eyebrow playfully. “What’s that?”
“You’re real,” he says simply. “You’re a genuinely good person. I could tell that when I first met you.”
When he goes in for another kiss, I push him away, feeling like an imposter. Archer’s wrong. I haven’t been real with him, and I’m not a good person.
That couldn’t be further from the truth.