The Unexpected Way of Falling in Love

  I shrug as I dry my hair with the towel. “So are you.” I cringe at the hurt evident in my voice.

  He frowns, squinting against the headlights as he studies me. “Something’s wrong.”

  I pick up my dress from off the hood of the car. “Can you turn around so I can get dressed?”

  He slowly shakes his head, his gaze fixed on me. “Not until you tell me what’s bothering you.”

  “Nothing’s bothering me,” I lie, hugging my dress to my chest.

  He shakes his head again then steps toward me, not stopping until he’s right in front of me and my butt is pressed against the hood of the car and the dress falls from my hands. “I can tell something’s bugging you, Ens. Ever since I kissed you …” An uneven breath fumbles from his lips. “Did you not want to?”

  “What? No.” My answer is immediate, and I internally cringe, loathing how desperate I sound.

  He visibly relaxes, his muscles loosening.

  “Then what’s wrong?” He reaches out and caresses my cheek with his thumb.

  He’s touched me like this a handful of times, and I’m beginning to wonder if he has some sort of weird fascination with my cheek. I don’t know why. It’s just a cheek. A freckly cheek. A cheek that’s on my face. A face that looks like a guy. I look like a guy. I’m not pretty. So why, why, why …?

  “Why did you kiss me?” I sputter out as a clusterfuck of emotions pour through my veins.

  His brows dip. “Because I wanted to.”

  “But why?” I summon a deep breath, preparing to say something that I’ve wanted to say for a very long time. “Why would you kiss me when you don’t like me? Why would you kiss me when all you’ve ever done is tell me I’m not pretty and that I look like a guy? Obviously, you’re not attracted to me, and I get why, but still … Why kiss me?”

  His hand freezes on my cheek, his lips parting. “You think I think you’re not pretty and that you look like a guy?”

  “I don’t know why you sound so shocked.” I grip the front bumper of the car as my legs wobble from the emotional overload whipping through my body. “You’ve said those things to me before.”

  “I’ve never said you weren’t pretty.” A deafening breath puffs from his lips as he reaches up and yanks his hand through his damp hair. “As for the whole looking like a guy part … that was back in third grade.” He drops his arm to his side, his gaze boring into me. “I said a lot of things back in third grade that I didn’t mean. I still say things I don’t mean. But I know that, besides in third grade, I’ve never told you that you aren’t pretty or that you look like a guy. In fact, I’ve told you you’re pretty a lot of times.”

  “Over the last few days.”

  “Yeah, so? It takes a lot of balls to tell a girl she’s pretty.”

  “Not for you.”

  His intense gaze burrows into me. “When it’s a girl I like, it does.”

  I swallow hard. “You did tell me I wasn’t pretty, though. On our last day of school.”

  He shakes his head, his jaw clenching. “I knew you thought I was talking to you and I’m betting El played a part in it.”

  “El’s never played a part in anything that would hurt me. She knew you were directing those words at me, too.”

  He grinds his teeth. “No, I wasn’t. I was directing them at her, because she called me pretty boy. And because that’s what we do. We argue and see who can get the upper hand.”

  My mind is spinning in a whirlwind of confusion. Could he be telling the truth?

  “But you looked at me, too, when you said it.”

  “I may have glanced at you because you were right there, but I promise you that I wasn’t referring to you. Why the fuck would I when I think you’re pretty?” He takes a step closer to me, his bare toes touching mine. “I’ve thought that since about the beginning of sophomore year. I’d just gotten back from a vacation with my mom and hadn’t seen you for, like, three months. You and El were sitting out by the pool when I got home and you were wearing these cut-off shorts and this swimsuit top with all these straps on it. When I walked out, you were laughing about something and you had your head thrown back. You were also holding a book. It had a witch on the cover. Well, either that or just a chick with a pointy hat. Anyway, you looked hot. I mean, you were always pretty, but that day, I thought you looked really pretty. And your laugh nearly did me in.”

  I stand there, stunned, my jaw hanging agape. My initial instinct is to deny the truth of his words, but considering how detailed of a story that was …

  “How do you remember all of that?” I ask quietly.

  He traces a line underneath my eye with his finger. “Because that’s when I started liking you.” Back and forth his finger moves, and it takes all of my self-control not to close my eyes. “I tried to flirt with you then, but you always seemed uninterested or acted like I was annoying you.”

  “I thought you were teasing me,” I admit. “It felt like you were.”

  “Teasing and flirting are kind of the same sometimes, Ens.”

  “Yeah, but …” I shrug, feeling so, so, so damn lost. “You teased me when we were in grade school. I just thought …” I shrug again, unsure of what to say.

  He wets his lips with his tongue, fear flashing in his eyes. “Do you want to know why I said that to you? Back in third grade?”

  I hesitate. “I don’t know.” If he says it’s because I looked like a boy, it might erase all those wonderful words he just said to me. And I don’t want them erased yet. I want to hold on to them, and then run back to that cliff and dive off, sink to the bottom, and hide there forever, where all I can remember is the words he just spoke to me, instead of everything else. And I mean everything. Because Carter wasn’t the only person who ever said cruel words to me. And each cruel word left a tiny scar on my self-confidence.

  “It’s not as bad as you think,” he attempts to assure me. “I’ve never told anyone. I’m not supposed to tell anyone.”

  I’m still reluctant, but I unsteadily nod.

  He splays his fingers across my cheek as he looks me straight in the eye, seeming nervous. “Back before third grade, my family didn’t seem to have it together as much as we do now. Most of that came from the fact that my mom didn’t come from money.” He pauses, as if giving me time to process that. “You already knew that, didn’t you?”

  I nod. “My mom mentioned it once. And El told me the story you told her.”

  “Ah.” He nods in understanding. “Did she tell you about how our mom used to be an outcast from all the rich socialites’ inner circles?”

  I shake my head. “I didn’t even realize there were rich socialite inner circles.”

  “Oh yes, they’re very important.” His tone is all sarcasm. “It’s basically like high school for old people. You have your popular circle, your prestigious circle, your rich, rich circle, and then you have people like my mom who are shunned from all the circles.”

  “All because she used to be poor?”

  “Yep.”

  I scrunch my nose. “You know, sometimes I’m glad I don’t come from money.”

  He winces at that, which throws me off.

  Before I can ask why he did that, he continues.

  “Anyway, back to my story.” With a little bit of pressure on my cheek, he angles my head to the side and smooths his thumb along my cheek again. “When I was in third grade, my mom told me that one day I’d need to make new friends. Then she gave me a list of names. All the kids belonged to families who were high up in the inner circles, so yeah, she was pretty much using me to get our family into those circles.

  “At first, I argued with her. I liked my friends and didn’t want to become friends with the kids on her list. With the exception of Holden, most of them were jerks. Yeah, I wasn’t perfect or anything, but I didn’t pick on people.”

  True. Now that I think about it, Carter didn’t turn into a jerk until a few weeks before he told me I looked like a boy.

  “But she to
ld me I didn’t have a choice, and that, if I didn’t comply, I’d get sent to a foster home,” he continues.

  My eyes widen. “What? She said that to you?”

  He nods tensely. “My mom’s not the nicest mom in the world. I’m sure you probably already know that, considering how she treats Elodie.”

  “Yeah, but I thought she was only that way with Elodie.”

  He smiles sadly and shakes his head. It’s such a sad smile that makes me want to cry.

  “They only treat El like shit because she doesn’t do what they want. They treat me decently because I follow every demand they’ve made for almost all of my life. Even demands I shouldn’t have.” He steps closer until our bodies are aligned. “I should’ve said no when my mom told me to make those friends, but I was afraid she’d send me away, so I did what she wanted. The problem was, the only way these kids would accept me into their group was if I passed a test.”

  I swallow a shallow breath as I sense where this story is going.

  “The test was to walk up to the quietest girl in our school and ask her if she was a boy or a girl, even though it was clear she was a girl. And she was such a quiet, sweet, pretty girl who didn’t deserve to get picked on.” He trails his fingers up my cheek and tangles them through my hair. “I didn’t mean what I said that day, and if I could go back in time, I wouldn’t have done it. Unfortunately, time machines don’t exist, so all I can do is ask that she forgive me now and hope she says yes.” A hopeful look crosses his expression.

  I don’t answer right away, stunned into silence. All these years, I let his words, and other people’s, shape how I thought, and supposedly the words were never true? That makes me pause and really think about my life.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have let words affect me so much?

  “Yeah, I forgive you.” A bit of pressure releases in my chest. A pressure I never realized was there.

  A smile breaks across his face. “Good. I’m glad.” Then he dips his head and lightly brushes his lips against mine, the scruff on his chin scratching against my skin. “I’d hate myself if you didn’t.”

  “Well, it’s not entirely your fault.” I rub where his scruff scratched me and note how my lips are tingly. “It’s kind of your mom’s.”

  “Yeah, but I’m the one who made the choice.”

  “You were eight. You’re supposed to listen to your parents when you’re that young. And your mom shouldn’t have ever asked you to do something like that.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He shrugs. “But she’s never really been mom of the year. Neither has my dad.”

  “Neither has my dad,” I instinctively say. “Of course, I don’t know him. For all I know, he could have a new family by now and he’s a super father.” When Carter stiffens, I add, “Sorry, I just piled some heavy shit on you, didn’t I?”

  “You’re fine.” He tucks a strand of my damp hair behind my ear. “I did the same thing to you, so consider us even.”

  “Even, huh?” My guilt level shoots up.

  He nods. “Unless you want to tell me about something you did to me that’s terrible that I don’t know about.”

  I tense. “Um…”

  He chuckles. “I’m just messing with you, Ens.”

  “Oh.” Now I’m nervous.

  “Relax.” He cups my cheek, giving me a strange, perplexed look. Then he lowers his hand from my face, laces his fingers through mine, and pulls me with him as he sits down on the hood of his car.

  The hood is cool against my ass, reminding me that I’m only wearing a shirt and underwear. I want to get up and get dress, but instead find myself studying him, like I have several times. Only this time he looks different, like I’m seeing him for the first time.

  “I don’t want you to be nervous around me anymore. I know I might not deserve that, but I want it.” He swallows hard, his eyes dropping to my lips. “I want it really, really fucking bad.”

  The heat in his eyes causes me to gulp. “I-I’ll try.” I hate when I stammer. I used to do it when I was younger and got nervous. Thankfully, I got over it. For the most part anyway.

  He strokes his finger up and down my hand. “I know you’re nervous now. You only stammer when you’re nervous.”

  My heart leaps in my chest as he proves again that he’s been watching me. “I’m trying not to be, but you make me nervous.” My gaze falls to where his fingers are stroking my hand.

  “Is it because I’m touching you?”

  “Yeah… It’s not a bad thing. It just feels good and new and that makes me nervous.” And because it’s you and I’ve wanted you for a long time. But I keep that part to myself.

  He nods, as if understanding. “Well, maybe the more I do it, the less nervous you’ll be.”

  That comment makes me wonder how much time he plans on spending with me. Just tonight and at the party? Longer? Carter isn’t a long-term relationship sort of guy, at least the Carter I knew. What if he’s different, though? What if he…

  All thoughts evacuate my mind as he dips his head and steals another kiss, letting his lips linger on my mouth. My hands instinctively travel toward his shoulders and I grip on for dear life.

  He groans. “As much as I love where this is heading, I think I need to stop.” Sucking in a breath, he pulls back and looks me. “For now anyway.”

  My heart nearly ninja flips out of my throat. I tell myself my reaction is from my nerves, but deep down I think I’m excited. The reaction feels wrong but at the same time right. I’m seriously so conflicted and confused.

  A genuine smile graces his lips. “I’m going to go check my phone while you get dressed. I promise I won’t look, even though I really want to.” He dazzles me with a grin and a wink before collecting his boots from the ground and heading toward the driver’s side of the car.

  Before he climbs in, he pauses. “And Ens, even if your dad has a whole other family and he’s good to them, he’s still a shitty father since he’s your father and he should’ve been there for you. You shouldn’t forgive him easily.”

  “Well, he’d have to apologize for that to ever happen. And I doubt it ever will.”

  “You never know.” With that, he climbs into the car, lowers his head, and gives me a thumbs-up.

  Releasing a loud breath, I peel off the plaid shirt and wiggle into the dress while my mind races. I want to feel good about what happened, about the words we shared and the kiss. After everything that’s happened, I should feel good.

  So then, why do I feel so shitty?

  Because, if Carter is telling the truth, I’m the shitty person now. That’s why.

  I’m the liar. I’m the bad person. I’m everything I thought Carter was.

  Maybe even worse.

  Twenty-Two

  Carter

  I can’t believe what just happened, that I told Ens the truth. I’ve never told anyone how my mom forced me to make new friends. Not even El or Holden know about it. But Ens needed to know the truth. She needed to understand that not everything is what it seems.

  I just wish I had the balls to tell her about her dad and how I’m helping him. Tell her everything. Come clean.

  I’ve never felt this guilty in my entire life. So guilty that I can barely breathe.

  I never should’ve kissed her. It was crossing a line. And to make things worse, I think it was her first kiss. Deep down, I love that it was, which might make this situation even more fucked up.

  Gregor told me to become friends with her, not make out with her in the lake and take her first kiss. But fuck, that kiss … That kiss was everything.

  All those girls I’ve been with, they never meant anything to me. I was playing a part. Doing what I was told to do. But Ensley means something to me. I don’t know how that’s possible. We’ve only been on one date for fuck’s sake. No, not even that. We’ve been on half a date. But, then again, I spent so much time watching her… Maybe I was starting to feel something before all of this. Could that be possible? To fall for someone before you even h
ave them?

  One thing’s for sure, I’m starting to wonder if, for the first time in my life, I’m not playing a game.

  The problem is, technically I am. Which I know doesn’t make much sense, but in a way, it does.

  I need to fix this before I lose it. Whatever this is.

  Letting out a frustrated exhale, I collect my phone from the console. Then I release another breath before opening a text message to Gregor, my fingers trembling as I type.

  Me: I don’t think I can bring Ens to the club tonight. Some stuff happened.

  Gregor: What sort of stuff?

  Me: Just some stuff.

  Gregor: Are you having second thoughts about our deal? I’d advise against that.

  Me: I’m not really sure what I want anymore. I need some time to think about all of this.

  Gregor: Well, while you think, sit on this: if you back out of this deal, I’m going to have to find someone else to take your place. Is that what you want? Some other guy doing what you’re doing with Ensley?

  The words, “take your place,” don’t sit well with me at all.

  I still don’t fully understand why Gregor can’t just approach Ens himself, which makes me question if something’s off about this situation.

  Me: I’m just friends with her, which is what you told me to do, so yeah, I’m okay with that.

  What a fucking lie. I’m more than friends with her, and I don’t want anyone to take my place. I’m not going to let anyone take my place. I think I’m going to tell her the truth.

  Gregor: Okay, then how about this? You keep your end of the deal, and I won’t send this file I have in front of me to your father … A file that clearly shows he’s not yours or your sister’s real father.

  “What?” I breathe out, my heart jackhammering in my chest.

  Is he fucking with me?

  Yeah, he has to be fucking with me.

  Me: You’re lying.

  Gregor: No, I’m not. I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a liar. And I think you know that as well as I do. And I think you know, as well as I do, that your father’s the kind of man who’s not going to take this news very well.