His grandfather died of terminal lung cancer last night. His funeral is in a few days, and he is leaving to go to his family’s birthplace, Venezuela. Tonight. All alone. When I heard that, I felt my insides grow weary. I hate the idea of him attending his grandfather’s funeral all by himself.
Apparently, they had a deep connection, and when he found out…he lost his mind. He explained that it felt like a part of him was forcibly ripped out of him. With the way that he was crying a storm into the side of my neck and held onto me so tight, so securely like I would melt away if he dared let me go…I feel like I know the feeling.
The feeling of having something you care for so deeply be snagged right out of your caring hands. I felt it eight months ago. So I know somewhat of what he felt, but not enough where I could tell him that I “understand” or “it’s going to be okay.” Whoever tells him that isn’t in his boots, walking around in his skin.
We stayed that way for a long time: my arms caged around his large, lean body and his face buried in the crook of my neck. The only other time I witnessed him freak out that way was when his mother popped up in his apartment. I saw pure, raw anger, confusion, fear, and panic swell in his eyes. And at that moment, I felt it. The unsettling, black hole-sized space in the back of my heart open and form around the idea of protecting this poor, confusing tatted boy with eyes of darkness, yet having possessed so much light he didn’t even know about.
And when I saw those emotions brew behind his eyes again, I felt every single boundary I had put up after he walked out on me eight months ago shatter, and I knew. I knew I wouldn’t ever be able to hold back from doing anything to stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks or hugging him or just about anything it took to help the weeping boy that needed a little shedding of light in that dark vast place hidden just behind his heart. He had to see it, no matter what. Even if I got hurt in the process…my well-being has been on the back burner since the first time I saw him, I think.
The problem is, what about Noah? I’m not saying that I will do anything with Grey. The door on us is closed, locked, and the key has been thrown away. Random, meaningless sex or not. I don’t want to hurt Noah. Feeling so deeply for Grey, though, it isn’t so much in the sexual department as it is in the department where I feel so irrevocably attached to him in ways that could never be truly cut, is basically the same as betraying him. I am not caring for him in the same way as I should. I’m not drowning in searing waves of electricity just from one single touch. And I should be with him, but I just can’t.
Is there something wrong with me? Am I just not trying hard enough?
A million and one questions run through my brain, worsening the headache from my hangover I’m still suffering through. I wrap an arm around my grumbling stomach. I don’t know if I’m hungry or extremely nauseous.
Nonetheless, I step through the front door of the beach house, trying to be as quiet as possible. I am trying not to wake anyone. It’s still morning, and the others, excluding Charlotte, may still be asleep. Plus, I’m afraid if I make any kind of loud noise, my brain will detonate.
Take that for your pristine porcelain walls, Mother, my subconscious spits bitterly.
My plan goes to crap when I hear flip-flops smacking on and off the marble staircase. And boy, are there a bunch of them…
Prepare yourself, prepare yourself! I chant over and over, readying myself for the pounding questions and wailing cries of relief that I’m okay, then the roaring anger I didn’t return or notice anyone’s calls or texts.
A lifetime of preparing wouldn’t help me.
First, it was Louise, “¿Dónde estaba en el nombre del Señor, niña? ¡Estaba intentando contactarte toda la noche!” (Where in the name of the Lord were you, little girl? I was trying to reach you all night!)
Next was Charlotte, “Debería aplastar el cráneo de ese idiota. ¡El martillo, por favor!” (I should really smash that idiot’s skull in. The hammer, please!)
Then Mason, “Dude, where the hell did you go last night? You had me so freaking worried!” He wrapped me in a tight hug, and I hugged him back even tighter.
Mateo joins in the hug and says in a muffled voice, “Don’t do that again, okay? There is something called taking your fucking phone off silent, you know?”
“Babe,” Mason warns.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, then adds, “Really, I’ll kill Grey when I see him.”
I want to tell him to lay off considering the news he got this morning, but Julia’s cut in before I could get a word out.
“Thanks for ruining my party.” She sounds super pissed, and I instantly feel horrible. Everyone is worrying over me when yesterday was her day, not mine.
“I feel like shit,” I say, then flush and glance at Louise’s shocked expression. “Disculpa mi lenguaje.” (Sorry, excuse my language.) I then look back to Julia and take her hands once the guys have released me. “I will make it up to you.”
“How about sending us to an exotic country, like you did when Grey totally fucked up my party?” Jaimie suggests, sounding extra pissed too.
Jeez, he and I are always ruining someone’s party…I feel like utter crap now. What is wrong with us?
I look at Julia. I wouldn’t mind. “Well?”
“A vacation to another country wouldn’t change the fact that you messed with my groove last night,” she snaps, and I wince.
Jaimie whines.
Julia rolls her eyes and resigns, “But I guess a trip to Italy wouldn’t be so bad…”
“Yay!” Jaimie jumps onto her girlfriend’s side, arms encasing her small waist. “Make it Rome and you’ll get something special tonight. And I’ll give you a hint: it starts with a V.”
Everyone collectively groans, disgusted. And I join in too, because, um, gross. But when do they ever hold back on what goes down in their bedroom? They’re a very shameless couple…but you can’t not love them.
“Don’t be nasty,” Charlotte mewls, face scrunched up.
“Oh, get your heads out of the gutter, people,” Jaimie scoffs, then a mischievous grin forms. “I just meant: very amazing head from moi.” She pokes her cheeks and bats her eyelashes, and everyone begins to disperse, each muttering how they’re “nasty” and shouldn’t reveal too much information. “What? I don’t believe for a second that you all haven’t gotten banged by another human being,” she argues as she drags Julia along with her to catch up with them as they huddle into the living room.
I stand here for a moment, wondering how I became friends with such weirdos.
“Cool weirdos,” I correct myself.
I struggle up the stairs with the massive headache growing larger and larger with every nerve-wracking beat.
When I finally make it to my bedroom, I trudge directly to my ensuite. I twist on the bathtub faucet. A shower would not be enough to soothe my aching muscles and the nefarious scream ringing in my head. I strip away my clothes and add bath bombs and soap into the quickly rising tub. The end product is a soft orange and dark pink color that looks really pretty.
I sink into the water and press the button on the expensive tub that starts up the jets. I thought my mother was splurging way too much by buying this tub, but man, am I extremely grateful for her inability to make smart shopping decisions.
About twenty minutes into the bath, I nearly doze off, feeling relaxed and the headache slowly disintegrating, when I hear a knock at the door.
“It’s me,” Noah says before I can even open my mouth.
“Oh, come in.” I sink lower into the thick bubbles to cover myself.
The door pushes open, and he steps in, closing it after him.
He turns and our eyes lock. But then his eyes shift to the bubbles, one of my legs peeking through my makeshift bubble-shield, and his pinks turn the color of the soap used in the bath. I believe I am the same color as I look away and self-consciously arrange the bubbles a bit in case something else wants to make itself known.
“I’m sorry, I can come back later?” he suggests, smoothing his fingers through his hair.
“No, it’s all right—you can stay,” I assure him with a smile.
He just nods, face glued to the ground.
An uncomfortable silence fills the room.
“So, you came here for something?” I say, trying to fill in the silence.
He turns to me, looks shocked for a second like he forgot I am completely naked, save for my terrible wall of protection made of bubbles, then clears his throat and tries on a crooked smile. “Yeah, I did.” He looks hesitant for a moment, but then he finds his natural confidence and walks over to the tub. He grabs the wooden chair that holds my clothes, places them on a rack, and swivels the chair in front of me and sits, facing the back of the chair.
I raise my brows expectantly, and he blushes even more, if possible.
“Sorry I’m being a spazz,” he says. “Not very often I am in the presence of a pretty naked girl.”
“I doubt that,” I mumble, looking into the bubbles. But looking in his eyes when I bring my attention back to him lets me know instantly that I am wrong.
“I’m serious, buttercup,” he relays. “Despite my past, none of them compare to you. You’re like this kind of wildflower, exquisite and rare.”
I gulp at his sweet words and avert my eyes from his, unable to look into those green eyes. “Thank you…” I raise my hand to my lips and nervously play with my lower one. But then I realize I’ve stolen Grey’s tick and let my hand drop. I feel hotter than ever at the image of him and give my full attention to Noah, who has been rubbing his neck nervously.
“No problem,” he mumbles.
“Yeah…” I grumble.
“Hey,” he says, and I look up.
“Yeah?”
He pauses.
“How come you only got home twenty minutes ago? I called you way before that…” he questions, and I gulp.
“Oh, yeah…I, uh…I had to help comfort Grey,” I say, though it sounds more like a question.
“Oh?” He frowns.
“Not like that,” I say, then sigh, having to reveal something that’s left him a complete wreck and is a personal thing. “It’s just…he got this call that his grandfather passed, and they were really close. I couldn’t just leave without knowing he was okay, especially after his hospitality to me last night.”
“Oh…makes sense.” He nods to himself, then quickly adds, “But sorry about his loss. That sucks.”
“Yeah, it does.” I bite my lower lip and feel another silent pause coming. “I’m sorry, you were saying something earlier…?”
“Oh, right.” His eyes light up. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“It’s not like Grey would hurt me,” I immediately defend him, and he raises his brows. I sink lower into the tub and shrug, my voice turning lower, “not physically, at least.”
“Still…” I face his serious expression, cheeks sucked and lips taut. “Are you okay?”
“Despite the raging hangover?” I laugh lightly and roll my eyes. “I’m rainbows and leprechauns.”
“Good.” He smiles from ear to ear, but there’s something he isn’t saying. I can see it in his eyes.
“What is it?” I question him.
His dark eyebrows curve. “What do you—”
“What aren’t you saying, Noah?” I cut him off, kind of impatient. I have my fair share of partners withholding things on their mind and making me lose mine because of it. I won’t go through it again. I just won’t.
“It’s just…” He sighs and closes his eyes. “Did anything happen between the two of you?”
“Seriously?” I feel my cheeks rise in critical temperature from both shock and anger. I wish my emotions weren’t so easy to decipher based on my cheeks.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he groans and slaps his hands over his face and leans down, then pops back up, lips between teeth. “It’s just, I know the epic past you two have and—and I was just worried you or he would…Fuck, I’m the worst, aren’t I? It sounds like I have no fucking faith in you, but I do, trust me! It’s him I don’t trust—” he rants.
“We didn’t do anything,” I tell him, but he doesn’t even hear me over his blinding fear of me betraying him, which has been my own lately.
“I should have taken you and rented a room at the motel or something. How could I have let you leave with that guy? I could have watched over you at the club, but Dean and the gang fucking walked in and I knew he would just try to start something and—”
I clutch the tub’s edge and lean up to kiss him, tasting his words on my tongue.
It lasts for a few sweet seconds, but then my skin bubbles with goose bumps and I feel ultra-uncomfortable. So I sink back into the tub and let the bubbles almost swallow me with coverage.
He has some on his chin, and I giggle at the dazed look on his face. “Whoa,” is all he says, and I laugh some more.
“Does that satisfy your worry?” I ask teasingly.
“It satisfies something, all right,” he says with a little laugh. I can’t stop myself from joining him.
“Nasty.” I stick my tongue out at him.
“You’re nasty,” he coos, lightly pinching my tongue.
“Ouch!” I laugh and pull back. He and I laugh so hard the sound bounces off the tiled walls. I like this, the easiness that ignites between us when we’re just joking around. I swear it becomes so much harder when we kiss or do anything romantic, but that isn’t detrimental to being in a relationship.
Our laughter is cut short when my phone begins to ring.
“I got it,” he says, walking over to my clothes.
“Thank you,” I mouth to him as he digs my phone out of my jeans’ pocket.
“No problem,” he mouths back as he hands me the phone.
I smile as I answer the phone and press it to my ear. “Hello?”
“Hello, is this Olivia Westerfield?” a woman answers.
“Yes…” I say unsurely. I should have looked at the caller I.D. Whoever this lady is, she sounds stern, professional even.
She continues speaking, and as she does, I swear it isn’t real. Tears fill my eyes as she goes on and on, answering my questions, completely oblivious to the fact that I’m having a major dance party on the inside.
“Yes…yes…thank you so much for the opportunity. Yes, thank you, again.” I hang up the phone and stare long and hard at the bubbles.
Noah carefully takes my phone from my palm. “Okay…what was that about?”
“I’ve been accepted into the Psych Program…again,” I say breathlessly, still shocked.
“What?” I look at him and feel relieved, and ecstatic tears leave my eyes. “Oh my God! That is amazing!” I can tell he wants to hug me, but he holds back, considering. “How are you not freaking out right now? You told me how big this opportunity was.”
“Oh, I am freaking out.” I laugh and shake my head in disbelief. “It’s just taking me a while to process it.” I can’t believe this!
“Don’t process, just react!” He grabs my hand.
“Okay, I’m so fucking freaking out!” I launch out of the tub and wrap my arms around him. I don’t even care if I’m naked and freaking out even more because of the fact. I’m doing as he says, reacting! “I got into the program, Noah! Again! Fuck! The most elite and hardest program in the field, and I got in twice! Can you believe it? How am I special?”
“Don’t even get me started,” he says and hugs me tighter.
I squeal and melt back into the water. But I am too excited to stay still. I splash around excitedly, and he laughs and throws his arms up.
“I can’t believe this!” I scream at the top of my lungs.
“Quiet the sex down, please! Thank you!” I hear one of those cool weirdos yell from downstairs.
I clasp a hand over my mouth and giggle, meeting Noah’s wide, mortified eyes.
“Crap! What do we do? What do we do?” I repeat, and he grabs my hands and leans forward.
“We celebrate, of course!” he exclaims. “First, we go out clubbing tonight. We tear up the fucking town because you did it. Then, we stretch out the celebration all through the week, because, guess why…you fucking did it!” He grabs me out of the tub, and I laugh and squeal as he spins around, my naked body flushed and dripping against him.
“Getting dizzy!” I yell.
He stops, and I stumble a bit, my stomach clenching.
“Sorry.” He is the definition of red as he sets me down and looks away.
I quickly grab a towel and laugh at his excitement. And although I should be shouting my accomplishment from every roof in town and think of myself—because I fucking did it!—I can’t get rid of the image of Grey sitting on the plane, alone, trying to hide his tears as he heads to his grandfather’s funeral…alone. The crystal-clear snapshot brings actual tears to my eyes and tugs on my heartstrings, the strings that are connected with his.
“Livvy? Did you not hear me?” Noah cries, shaking me by my shoulders a little.
“Hmmm?” I lift my eyes and meet Noah’s wide green ones that are absolutely shining.
“I said: are you ready for a week of victory?” he reiterates, but a little less enthusiastically, having realized I’m not totally in the moment.
I open my mouth to say, “Hell yes!”
But that image, that fucking image, nearly sends me to my knees in tears. Him, all alone, heart-broken, all alone…
“No.” I shake my head.
“No?” He laughs uneasily.
I shrug his hands away and take a step back. “No,” I say firmly.