Cuts Run Deep (5 page)

Piper was hard to break down, let me tell you. The flirty banter that had worked for me for years didn’t work on her. Not at all. In fact, it’s safe to say that it turned her off. I was starting to think she hated me, so I knew I had to do something fast.

There was something about her. Something special.  I didn’t want to screw up my chance.

And I knew that Romeo was my one chance. My only hope of making Piper mine.

After that night in the parking lot, I knew it even more. The passion she felt for the play was evident in her eyes as she spoke. They shone under the dim lighting of the sky, sparkling. I’d never really understood that phrase before. I mean, didn’t eyes always sparkle when light caught them? I figured it was because of all the moisture. But when Piper told me how much playing Juliet meant to her, I saw what people meant by sparkle. It wasn’t a physical sparkle so much as an intensity.

And that’s why I decided to make a change. It was time to set aside my pride and dive into the part of Romeo. No more joking or goofing off. No more trying to steal kisses or touches during practice. I told Piper I’d be more like Romeo, and that’s what I needed to do.

So I started studying the script every night, working on my lines and perfecting my delivery. At first it kind of sucked, and I prayed there would be a payout at the end of it all. I mean, it would be pretty shitty if I went through all of this and Piper still didn’t want anything to do with me. She was the reason for it, after all. But then the part sort of grew on me. I started to understand Romeo.

The longer I tried to become him, the more I did. At times it was hard to tell where I started and he began. My lines haunted my dreams, swam through my head during the day, left my lips at weird times. The guys thought I was going crazy. They would draw imaginary circles around their ears with their index fingers. You know, the sign for crazy. Loco. Dude’s lost his freaking mind. Not that I blamed them. I would do the same thing if they were acting like I was.

But I didn’t care because it was working.

Piper was starting to open up to me, slowly, the way a flower does when it blooms. And it was even more beautiful, watching the walls she built around herself begin to crumble, watching her heart unlock a little every day. It felt like an honor. Like she was piecing out the rarest gold in the world, handing me a tiny bit every day. I guarded it with everything I had as if it was valuable treasure.

And it was. The most valuable treasure I’d ever been trusted with.

The change in our relationship became noticeable about a week after our argument in the parking lot. It was a particularly grueling rehearsal where I kept screwing up my lines. I was frustrated because I had worked tirelessly the night before on those scenes. Frankly, when I showed up for rehearsal that day I was feeling cocky, sure of myself. That ended quickly, trust me.

Maybe that was the reason why I couldn’t get it together. My arrogance had gotten the better of me before. You’d think I’d learned my lesson. However, it was that rehearsal that brought Piper and I closer together, so I guess it all worked out for the best.

Anyway, after the rehearsal Piper approached me. That alone was pretty crazy, since I was usually the one who approached her. I wasn’t sure she’d ever initiated conversation between the two of us before. Even more bizarre was when she touched my shoulder. I flinched, her warm soft hand startling me. But when she tugged her hand back looking stricken, I regretted it. Regretted it like nothing ever before. But there was nothing I could do to get it back. I couldn’t beg her to touch my shoulder again. What kind of weirdo does that?

She mumbled an apology, but I shook away her words, telling her that I was just on edge since I’d botched rehearsal. Then she smiled. Have I mentioned that her smile is one of my favorite things about her? Well, it is. It’s the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.

After smiling, she told me that I didn’t do that bad. Okay, so it may not have been the best compliment ever, but it was the best compliment she’d ever given me. For that reason alone I felt on top of the world.

Then she said the words I’d been waiting to hear since I first started this play. She asked if I wanted to get together sometime to run lines. And just like that I knew I’d win her over.

Not only that, but I knew that I’d never wanted anything so badly in my entire life.

If Jackson were still alive he’d be so upset with me for going through his things like this. I always hated when I made him angry. I hated when we fought. But now I’d give anything to have him walk into his room and yell at me, demand that I get the hell out.

Sighing, I turned away from his bookshelf, knowing that wasn’t going to happen.

He would never walk into this room again.

Frankly, I wished I didn’t have to be in here. But I was on a mission. Somewhere in this room were answers, I was sure of it. I had turned to the last page in his journal, hoping for something, anything about the night of his murder. But the last few pages had been ripped out. The last entry was a month before his death, and it was just all about him and Piper. Nothing telling. I had to know what he was thinking the night of his death. Were there other entries? Was that what had been ripped out? It was too suspicious to overlook. Had Jackson torn them out or had someone else?

Yanking open his desk drawer, I slid my hand inside and felt around. My fingertips brushed over several pens. Some were open and they painted blue and black lines on my flesh. Drawing my hand back, I searched through the stacks of papers. Nothing but notes from school, scribbles and doodles, a note Mom wrote him about some chores to do. I shoved them aside, my hands sweeping the remainder of the drawer. Nothing. No ripped sheets of journal paper.

I closed the drawer, and it slammed shut with finality. Biting my lip, I turned around and rested my back on the desk. The wooden edge poked into my spine as my gaze swept the room. Where were those damn pages? My eyes landed on the edge of Jackson’s bed, at the spot where I’d last seen him.

My heart pinched, remembering how he’d sat there, his head bent over that poetry book. I froze. If I couldn’t find the missing journal entries maybe the answers were in that poem. I had to find it.

Pushing off the desk, I hurried across the room. Once I reached his bookshelf, I ran my fingers along the spines searching for the poetry book of Piper’s. I didn’t know what it was called but I remembered what it looked like. It was dark brown with gold around the edges.
Ah-ha
. My hand touched it. Wrapping my fingers around it, I dragged it out. Opening it, I flipped through the pages. As I did, a piece of paper fell out, fluttering to the ground like a butterfly. I dropped to my knees on the ground and snatched it up. The thick reeds of the carpet dug into the skin on my kneecaps, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was the poem. As my fingers closed around the paper, my pulse raced. I felt like I had a piece of Jackson in my hand. Like he was here with me.

I set the book of poetry down on the ground next to my thigh, and placed the paper on top of my legs. Emotion welled up inside of my chest as I carefully opened the paper and smoothed it out with my hand. Taking a deep breath, I lowered my gaze and began reading.

Words spoken, can’t be unsaid

Letters danced on my tongue

Leaped from my lips

Regret choking me, I reached for them

But they were elusive, impossible to catch

They grew and spread like a disease

Poisoning, destroying, hardening hearts

Damage done

Filled with shame

No taking it back, no making it go away

Wish I could go back in time, keep the words locked inside

But it’s too late

It’s done, it’s over, it’s time

My hands trembled as I looked up, trying to process it. What had Jackson said? And to whom? What was it that he wished he could take back? Groaning, I stared at the paper again. I had hoped for answers, but reading it had only succeeded in filling my mind with more questions.

Jackson was known for his jokes. He was always spouting off some joke; always teasing and making sarcastic remarks. But he had never been mean. He wasn’t one of those guys who gossiped or talked shit about other people. He was everyone’s friend. A guy everybody seemed to like. At school I could always tell where Jackson was, because it was where the laughing and loud chatter was. I couldn’t picture him saying something awful and damaging, something he’d regret so much he’d write a poem about it.

My mind flew back to the last night of his life. He’d seemed off, sad almost. That’s when he wrote this. My fingers held tightly to the poem, to my one clue. I had asked him if he was going out with the guys, and he said no. And I asked if he and Piper were in a fight, and he said no. But even then I wasn’t sure I believed him. And when he left, I assumed he was going to meet her. Like maybe they’d made up by text or something. They did that sometimes.

One time they had a huge fight. I never knew what it was about, but from what I overheard I thought Jackson had been flirting with another girl. At the time I had assumed it was Tanya. Those two had a complicated relationship. Piper and Jackson didn’t talk for several days. It was the most miserable I’d ever seen Jackson. He hardly ate, didn’t sleep, and he rarely cracked a smile, let alone joked or laughed. It was like he was wasting away without Piper.

Mom got angry saying that he was acting like a drug addict. I heard her and Dad talking about it late at night. Mom was saying that Piper and Jackson’s relationship wasn’t normal. That they were obsessed with each other. That Piper had ruined her son. I had laughed to myself at that, totally disagreeing. The truth was that I was always kind of envious of Piper and Jackson. They had the kind of love you usually only see in movies. Sure it was a little intense, but that’s what made it special. Truly they were like something out of a romance novel.

I think Mom and Dad hoped they would break up after their fight, but I knew they wouldn’t. And I was right. Jackson texted her late one night and apologized. I didn’t know what the text said, but I was sure it had a fair amount of groveling. Piper never made things easy for Jackson. I hoped I would be as tough as her when I had a boyfriend. The next day they were together and happy, as if nothing had happened at all.

That last night when Jackson left, I assumed the same thing had happened. I assumed he had texted Piper and they made up, so he was going to meet her. But maybe I’d been wrong. Sighing, I glanced back down at the poem. Had he said something that upset Piper? Something she couldn’t get past?

Everyone thought she’d killed him.

Could they be right?

The puking started again.

As awful as it was, I was actually grateful because it kept the cop out of my room. Instead, nurses rushed in and fiddled with my IV. I had no idea what they were giving me, and I didn’t care. Afterward Mom came to tell me that the results of the CT scan had come in. I did have a concussion. I knew I should be scared, but honestly I felt numb. And if I’m being completely truthful, a part of me didn’t care if I made it or not. A part of me wanted to die, to go be with Jackson.

How Romeo and Juliet is that?

Problem was that I wasn’t entirely certain I’d go where Jackson was. If heaven was real, then Jackson was there. I had no doubt in my mind. He was too good and pure not to be. Heaven would be a better place with him in it. After all, the world was a darker place since he left it. But my fate wasn’t as certain. Would heaven’s gates open for someone like me? Someone with my scars? Someone who’d committed my sins?

I didn’t think so.

Although Jackson made me believe I was special. He made me believe that my past didn’t matter; that my sins could be forgiven. There were times I even bought into it. Moments when I saw myself through his eyes. But now that girl was gone.

She’d died along with Jackson.

“Are you okay, honey?” Mom stood over my bed, worried lines etching her face.

No, I wasn’t okay. I’d never be okay again.
I nodded.

Her hands came up, her fingers touching my hair. “You’re going to be fine. Your dad is making sure you’re getting the best medical care you can get.”

I still hadn’t seen him. Apparently he had time to talk to my doctors and make sure I was getting the best medical care, but he didn’t have time to come into my room and check on me himself. The familiar desperation rose up inside of me. That little girl who wanted her daddy’s attention more than anything spoke from deep inside my heart. She whimpered, begged, sobbed. Damn it, I wish she’d shut the hell up. When she got like this she made me do things. Things I shouldn’t do. She made me act out. Not that any of it ever worked. Nothing could get my dad to see me. He’d been looking through me so long I didn’t know if he’d even recognize me.

Swallowing hard, I turned away from Mom. She had great intentions, but she was clueless on how to help me. The only person who did was Jackson.

Jackson.

His name flooded me, my chest expanding at the very thought of him. If I couldn’t be with him, I just wanted to be alone with my recollections. I wanted to live inside of them, never having to leave. Closing my eyes, I allowed his dark hair and chiseled face to fill my mind. My mind clung to him, wrapping around him, breathing life into the memories.

Jackson started coming over almost every day to practice lines. His mom and sister were always around at his house, according to him, but my house was always empty. Mom spent all her time with friends or helping with some damn charity, and Dad was always at work. I’d been coming home to an empty house after school for years. Silence had become both my best friend and my worst enemy.

The first couple of days that Jackson came to my house it was weird. Odd to have noise and excitement. It felt funny to have company. After about a week, my stomach began to hurt. It started as a small nagging in my gut, but then spread to a painful sickness. At first I thought I was truly getting ill, but then I realized what it was. I liked having Jackson around, and I was scared. Scared that this would end and I would have to go back to being alone.

It was one thing to be all by myself when it was all I’d ever known. But now I’d had a taste of something different. Something better. And I wanted it to continue. But I wasn’t stupid. There was nothing going on with Jackson and me. We were rehearsing for a play. That was it. And when the play ended, so would this. It killed me to think about it.

“Juliet is a little morbid, huh?” Jackson asked one day as we sat on top of the bed in my room reading our lines.

“How so?” I asked, pressing the cap of my ballpoint pen to my lip.

“She wants to cut up pieces of Romeo’s dead body and put him up in the sky as stars.” He raised his brows. “Sounds creepy to me.”

I lowered my pen, smiling. “I think it’s meant to be romantic.”

“Romantic? If that’s your idea of romance I’m a little scared.”

Shrugging, I chuckled. “Well, I don’t know why you’re scared. It’s not like we’re dating.”

Darkness flickered in Jackson’s eyes, and his face grew serious. “Right.” His head bent down toward his script and he cleared his throat. “Anyway, I just don’t get it.”

His reaction disturbed me. Reaching out, I placed a hand on his script. “I think she’s saying that she can’t imagine a world without him. Like if he died he’d take her light away, and she can’t imagine how to live in that darkness. So she was saying that if he did go she’d want to somehow keep a part of him here.”

Jackson’s head bobbed up, his eyes catching mine. He stared at me for a minute without saying a word. His gaze was so intense that I sat frozen, afraid to move, afraid to even breathe. Then slowly he nodded. “I get that.”

I exhaled, a slow steady stream of air pushing past my lips. “You do?”

“Yeah.” Still wearing a serious expression, he scooted closer to me. His arm came up, his finger barely grazing the skin on my cheek. I shivered. “I’ve memorized all my lines.”

His words startled me. It wasn’t at all what I expected him to say, and it made me confused.

“And dress rehearsals are in a couple of weeks,” He continued, his hand stroking my face. It wasn’t the first time he touched me, but it was the first time he touched me when it had nothing to do with the play. This was all voluntary. It excited and terrified me at the same time. “Pretty soon we won’t need to meet like this.”

I sucked in a breath, my heart sinking. Even though I knew this was coming, it hurt nonetheless. “Right.” My voice was shaky.

“We won’t need to for the play, but the truth is that I will still need to, Piper.”

“What?” My head spun.

His hand cupped my chin. “Romeo wasn’t just in love with Juliet. He was obsessed with her.” Moving closer, Jackson’s face neared mine. My pulse quickened. “He needed to be around her no matter what. Even though he was told to stay away, it was impossible for him.” His fingers traveled up into my hair, his lips so close to mine they almost touched. Reaching down, I fisted my comforter in my hands in an effort to steady myself. “He was addicted.” His top lip brushed mine, and I stiffened. What was happening? “Thus with a kiss I die,” he whispered against my lips. Sinking into him, I allowed his mouth to cover mine. It was soft at first like a gentle breeze. No one had ever kissed me softly before. No one had taken their time. Closing my eyes, I tentatively brought my arms up to touch his waist. My fingers brushed over the belt loop of his jeans, so I hooked them in. It felt good to have a grip on him, as if I was locking him in place. Frankly, it was kind of scary how badly I wanted him here. How badly I wanted to attach myself to him and never let go. God, I did sound like Juliet.

Jackson’s hands slipped further under my hair, curving around my neck. His mouth moved skillfully over mine, his tongue sliding into my mouth. He tasted like mint and spice. His mouth was warm and moist. As his hands moved in my hair, a chill ran down my spine, and I shuddered.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the first day I saw you,” Jackson said as his lips drew away from mine.

“You have?” I licked my lips, wishing he hadn’t stopped kissing me.

“Oh yeah.” He smiled. “And it was even better than I imagined it would be.”

My heart skipped a beat. This whole thing seemed like a dream. “Really?”

“Really.”

Feeling bold, I yanked him toward me with the fingers still hooked in his pants. “Then why’d you stop?”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Believe me. It wasn’t because I wanted to.” Then he kissed me again. This time it was harder. So hard it stole my breath. I felt dizzy, and I grasped so tightly to his belt loops I felt them cut into my skin. His tongue licked open my lips and swirled in my mouth while his hands moved from my hair down my back, and rested at my hips.

“You know what this means?” He asked, tugging me to him. “It means you’re mine.”

“Yours, huh?”

“Are you okay with that?” He flashed me a challenging look.

“Do I have a choice?” I asked coyly.

“You always have a choice,” he answered simply. “I don’t though. My choice was taken away that first day I saw you. From the minute I laid eyes on you, you owned me.”

A thrill ran through me at his words. It shouldn’t excite me that I owned him. I knew how it ended when someone owned you. So why did I want this? As Jackson’s fingers dug into my waist, I reached out and touched his chest. His muscles flexed beneath my palms. When our eyes met, I realized that he owned me too. I’d never wanted anyone like I wanted him.

Perhaps that’s what made this different. Either way, I knew I was powerless to stop this from happening. We were already in too deep. We were already connected, I could feel it. And I prayed that this time things wouldn’t end the way they had in the past. I prayed that this time there wouldn’t be any casualties.

However, even as I thought it, I knew I was asking something impossible. There were always casualties, weren’t there? I wasn’t sure there was any way around that.