Sierra cuddles Jolie’s right side while I take the left. Zoe stares at the ceiling, lost in her own thoughts. Jolie plays with the bottom of my shorts, which are really Adam’s shorts, and tugs on the hem.
“Brea… do you love Jay?”
I’m so thrown I laugh. “Am I supposed to yet?”
She bumps into my shoulder. “No… I’m just curious if you’re on your way. You hardly talk about him, and maybe that’s just how you are, which is cool, but that’s so not how I am. I am detail hungry.”
My friends are always detail hungry. Thing is… I’m fresh out of details. I don’t know enough about him to feel that way. I equally want to know him more and want to keep things the way they are. Because they work. He’s a total distraction.
“I guess I don’t have a clue how I feel about him. I know I like him. Can that be enough for now?”
“Yes. I guess that’s normal,” Sierra says. “I mean, I fell face over feet for Levi so fast I couldn’t think straight. My words came out funky, and my head got loopy and every time I was around him it was like I was totally somewhere else. People had to snap their fingers in front of my face for me to get some sense of coherency. Obviously, I’ve gotten better, but I still slip into a swoon daze every so often when I’m with him. But maybe that’s not how people normally fall in love.”
“That’s how it happened for me,” Zoe says through sleepy lips.
“Me too.” Jolie squeezes my knee before climbing into her sleeping bag. I don’t miss the extra tug she gives on my shorts.
I climb in my bag—or Adam’s—and Sierra crawls in next to me after turning the light off. We go radio silent, and I’m not sure if it’s because the conversation has died, or if they’re waiting for me to give a truth to someone, or if they’ve all dozed off. I’m wide awake, staring at the dark ceiling. Jay is great. He’s a good kisser. He dresses well. He smells good. He’s sort of dorky and charming, and I like that. I like it a lot. But do I love it? Am I supposed to love it? Why can’t it be okay that I don’t love my boyfriend? I don’t even really know him.
Something nags at my heart, pulling it into the floor in painful throbs. Jolie said she was in love with Trent, and what she described was almost word for word how I feel about Adam. I know I love Adam. He’s my best friend…of course I love him. But do I love him that way? It’s like I can’t answer the question, and I’m afraid if I don’t tell him how I feel, a year from now I’ll end up like Jolie, wishing I’d said something when I had the chance.
Only thing is… what do I feel?
“You okay?” Sierra asks when she catches me shifting out of my sleeping bag.
“Bathroom,” I whisper, and Sierra closes her eyes. The floor creaks as I tiptoe my way across and shut the door behind me. The light blurs my vision for a second while it adjusts, and I sit on the toilet seat, pressing my phone to my ear.
I don’t have many minutes left, but I have enough to leave a message. I figured he’d be sleeping already, and I’m kinda glad he is because it’s much easier to talk to a machine.
The beep sounds in my ear, and I take in a long breath before speaking softly into the phone.
“Hey, Adam. It’s me. I know it’s late, but I was just… well, I was thinking. And I know this is going to come out of the blue and probably make no sense whatsoever, but I wanted to tell you… I think you’re awesome.” A garbled laugh floats from my mouth. Oh that’s real pretty. “And um… you’re going to be going to college soon, and I don’t know if you know just how much your friendship… well, you mean to me. But you are my best friend. And I’m going to miss you. Actually, if I’m honest, I have no idea how I’m going to function. It seems like you’re always holding me together, so when you leave, I’m not sure if I’ll fall apart or if some of me will go with you.”
I pause, surprised by the sudden wetness in my voice. My chest feels like it’s cracking, and that’s not what I wanted when I made the call.
“Um, I guess that’s all I wanted to say.” No… that’s total bull. But I’m not sure how to put everything into words, because I’m not even sure what everything is. All I know is I’m feeling things that run so deep they’re gutting me from the inside out. And it hurts to know that this time next year he could be thousands of miles away.
“I lo—” I suck the words back and quickly mumble, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Goodnight.” I hang up so fast the phone topples from my fingers. I was hoping this would make me feel better, but the realization of just how deep my feelings go for Adam make me more confused than before.
Chapter 20
Just when I started to think my brain was functioning fine.
Sixteen.
Out of one hundred.
Sixteen?
Adam doesn’t say anything as I stare at the red number on the screen. My hand grips the mouse, and I slam the off button on the library computer.
“I quit.”
“Stop it.” He puts a hand on my back as I fling my forehead on the keyboard. “You just need a break.”
“I’ve had breaks.” I force myself not to scream at him. It’s not his fault I’m incompetent. “I thought I was finally getting it. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing’s wrong with you.”
“Tell that to the big fat F I just got on that pre-test.”
Adam takes off his glasses and cleans them with the bottom of his shirt. “I’m moving you away from the computer.”
“I have to pass it, Adam.” I throw my hand out at the black screen. “The pre-test has the exact questions as the final.”
“I know.” He slides his glasses back on and stands. “But we’ve been staring at it since we got here, and my head hurts.”
“Oh.” Looks like idiocy is on the menu tonight with a side of guilt.
Adam pulls me to my feet, and I drag my pathetic ass behind him while he looks for a few books. Jay’s snoozing on the long couch in the audio book section, using his jacket as a pillow. After the first hour of him texting “Are you done yet” every ten minutes, he conked out. I want to tell him to just go home, but I don’t want to wake him up either.
“Here,” Adam says, pulling my attention to the book he sets in my hand. “Twenty minutes of just reading. Then we’ll do one more test.”
I pick at the frayed edge of the hardback. “This is an Art book.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m supposed to be focusing on The Odyssey.”
“No, you’re supposed to be taking a break. So take one.”
“You’re just going to watch me read?”
He snorts. “I’m reading too. Just try it, okay?”
“Fine.”
A smile twitches on his lips, and we plop down in one of the open seats. He dives right in to The Wizard of Oz, leaving me with just myself and Exalted Artist: Michaelangelo.
I wish I could concentrate. But my mind sees that red 16 on the screen. My mom crying over the bills this morning when I stopped by. My boyfriend rolling his eyes and blowing out frustrated breaths this whole afternoon. Adam getting a headache. Adam not saying a damn thing about my rambling voicemail the other night. Levi working overtime because I still haven’t found a job. Sierra pestering me on why I’m not at home. It’s like everyone else has to deal with my stupidity.
I flip the page and study a sculpture of Angel Holding Candlestick, and the urge to take out my own sketchbook is too strong to ignore. Adam doesn’t stop me or ask what I’m doing as I reach to my backpack and slide the supplies out. How can he just sit there all normal and crap after what I said on his voicemail? I want to ask him about it, but at the same time I don’t because what if he’s ignoring it on purpose?
I let out an exasperated breath and lightly stroke the page with the side of my pencil, making the pedestal from Michaelangelo’s sculpture, but adding a candlestick, giving it a glassy, crystalized look. Resting my chin in my free hand and using my elbow to hold the sketchbook steady, I start outlining the candle, adding in a bit of me
lted wax down the sides. I let it drip into the candlestick, overflow down the glass, let it slide to the stairs it rests on.
The shading on the background is next, and I feel Adam’s eyes on my sketch. It doesn’t bother me. I find it kind of flattering when he watches. Once I finish the side of the background, I add the smoke, curling it upward as if someone just blew the candle out. I make it rise to the top of the page, and it disappears into oblivion.
“What’d you wish for?” Adam asks, keeping his thumb in his book. His warm eyes move from the drawing to mine, and my heart takes off in a flutter.
“Something impossible.”
“Flying monkeys to do your bidding?” he jokes, holding up his book. I slug him in the upper thigh.
“Are they smart? I’ll have them take my finals.”
He slugs me back, and I’m rubbing out my thigh when Jay walks up, eyes red from his nap.
“You done yet?”
“I have to take it again.” I have to pass, and I’m not leaving till I do.
Jay huffs, shoulders slumping, and shoots Adam a glare I’ve never before seen from him.
“Uh,” Adam says, clearing his throat. “Actually, you should probably go with him.”
“I’m taking the test again.”
“Take it tonight.”
“I don’t have a computer.”
“You can use mine,” Jay says, reaching for my hand, his demeanor much lighter. I look back and forth between them feeling totally ganged up on.
I rest my eyes on Adam. “If you really think it’ll help me pass.”
He nods, closing the book he was reading. “It will. You need to take your mind off everything. So chill for a bit, and when your head is clear, try it again.”
My shoulders lift as I take in a large breath then settle my hand in Jay’s before I let it out. It’s not like I’m getting anywhere here anyway. May as well try different scenery. That and I think Jay has a vibrating cushion on his desk chair.
“Okay.”
***
Jay sets a cup of mocha cappuccino frothy something or other next to the computer while I cover half the screen with a piece of paper.
“Does that help?” he asks, nodding to the practice test and taking a sip of his own specialty coffee you only get at high-end coffee houses.
“I keep psyching myself out.” I read the question and answer it in my head, then rush to click B and forget looking at any other answer than the one that popped into my brain. Jay snickers at my tactic. I chuck an eraser at him.
“All right, all right.” He laughs. “Just let me know when you’re done.”
I hear him flop back on the huge couch he has in one of the many offices in this house, and he starts humming a song I have on my playlist. Huh, I didn’t even know we liked the same kind of music.
It takes about twenty minutes to get through the 100 questions, and when I hit the “see how I did” button, I hold my breath while the computer calculates my test. I seriously don’t know what I’ll do if it still sucks. I’ve exhausted every option, every way around this thing, and if I can’t—
“Oh my gosh…” My breath catches, and Jay sits up.
“You do okay?”
“Ninety-two,” I say, or mouth, or I don’t know what because I’m too elated to know what the heck my voice sounds like. “Ninety freaking two!”
“Hells yeah!” Jay bounces off the couch and spins me around in the office chair. He totally kisses teeth because I can’t stop smiling. My arms swing around his neck, and I really do try to kiss him back, but my body isn’t working right. I’m full of springs, colorful bubbles, blasts of confetti. I totally did it! My brain isn’t completely useless.
“I know my shit!” I squeal around his lips, and he’s laughing and suddenly I’m not in the chair anymore. I’m flat on my back on microfiber, Jay’s body pressing into mine, and we’re kissing and kissing like he’s been waiting all freaking day to kiss me like this.
It feels good. He’s moving in places we haven’t really done before, and his hands are teasing my skin by my waistline. And I keep telling myself that this reaction is totally okay. I’m happy, and happy people kiss. But have I ever kissed Jay when I was happy? Is that why it feels weird now?
His lips move to my ear, and shivers run up my spine. Okay… good. That’s good. Really good. I’m feeling it. My eyes drift closed, and I start moaning. His hands move up my shirt, inching higher and higher leaving sizzling trails in their wake. I grip at his top, wondering why he’s wearing such a tight tee. And where is the pen he keeps in his pocket? I grope around for it, sliding over fabric that feels foreign under my fingers. Eyelashes hit my neck, and my mind fuzzes because I don’t know where his glasses went. Did he take them off before we started kissing? How did I miss that?
Then it hits me like a wrecking ball. My eyes snap open just as Jay gets to the bottom of my bra, and I freeze. I blink a few thousand times, focusing, focusing, focusing. My fingers pinch the skin by my elbow while my arms stay steady around his neck.
“Wait…” I breathe out, guilt and horror eating at the edges of my lips. “No… I didn’t mean to… I don’t want… Get off, please. Get off, get off, I need air.” I don’t know what I’m saying or how I’m saying it, but the guilt keeps eating me like I’m poison apple pie. And even though I know he’s not here, I look around for Adam so I can shove him into a closet so Jay never ever ever finds out what I was thinking.
Jay scrambles back, landing on my jacket and letting me roll to the floor. I instantly grab my hair and braid and braid till my fingers feel like they could fly off my hands.
“Are… is everything okay?” he croaks, chest rising and falling as if he’s still trying to catch his breath. My eyes drift down to his strained jeans, and I have to pinch them shut.
“I’m fine.” Liar, liar, pants on fire.
He huffs, and I flick my gaze back to him and his hands running over his face, through his hair, pulling at his crumpled shirt, before he says, “Shit, are you messing with me or something?”
“What?”
“I don’t get you. At all. Sometimes I think you’re into this.” He waves his hand between us. “But then you, I don’t know, close off or something, and I don’t know what to think.”
I rip my jacket from under his butt. “I just don’t want to kiss right now, okay.”
“You were fine with it ten seconds ago. What did I do?”
Nothing. He didn’t do anything. That gnawing beast inside me bites into my chest, into my stomach, takes pieces of my throat and my brain and the back of my eyeballs, and I hate myself right now. For wanting someone different, for wanting him too, for not knowing what the hell I want or even if it’s the right thing to want or the wrong thing or the stupid thing.
“You didn’t do anything. It’s me.” Shit, it’s all me. “And I don’t know how to… I can’t—”
“Whoa, Brea. We don’t have to have sex. We can do that whenever you’re ready.”
I open my mouth, but then quickly close it and just nod. I so wasn’t talking about sex. I was talking about everything. Why can’t I just tell him everything? I trust him enough to kiss and hold hands and spend time together, but nothing deeper than that. There are so many broken things inside me. My brain, my tongue… but my iron wall stands firm as always.
Why the hell does he even like me?
“Will you take me home?” And by “home” I mean Jolie’s. I still haven’t made it back to my house.
He scoots off the bed, running tentative hands up my arms. I try to fold myself into them, feel some sort of comfort, but all I end up feeling is uncomfortable.
“Are you cool?” he asks.
“Are you?”
He sighs, his warm breath pushing some hair into my face. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Me too.” I say the words, thinking I mean them, but they taste funny as they come out. Like I expect chocolate chip cookies and bite into raisin instead. And as his hand tucks into mine on ou
r way out, I wonder how many more people I’m going to hurt with my stupid decisions.
Chapter 21
I am totally hopeless.
Home room has this daunting feeling in it as final grades are passed out. It’s half a sheet of paper stapled to a packet full of the tests that determined the grade, and options on how to pull the grade up if needed before the end of year. I close my eyes and pray my packet isn’t covered in red.
I feel good about the last tests. After scoring 92 on the English pre-test, 89 on the Biology quiz, and getting above 70 on both the Geometry and History online practice tests, I went in to each final with confidence. Well… more than I had before.
I hear the large thump on my desk, and my heart sinks. Okay, it might not be failing. Just let me have passed. A hole blasts through my chest when I look at the half sheet.
Biology-D
Geometry-F
English-F
History-D+
I gape at the letters, trying to force them into something else. How in the hell… With my last tests it should’ve at least given me C’s all around. Unless I didn’t do as well as I thought.
I rip into the packet, ignoring the comments I overhear from the straight A’s in the row next to me. The English exam… the one I just did the pre-test for… the actual test says 48. My hollowed chest fills with sharp bricks. 48. No no no. I swear it was going to at least be an 80.
My math test is a 53, English 61, and History 65. There’s so much red. So many x’s. My eyes blur and the bell rings. The weight in my body makes me sludge from the room in a daze. I feel so heavy I don’t even notice Jay’s arms around me in the hall at first.
“Whoa… what’s going on?” he asks, and I curse my eyes for getting glassy. I blink into his shirt, forcing all the anger and frustration back to the deepest parts of my stomach.
“Nothing. I’m good.”