Fourteen (20 page)

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Authors: C.M. Smith

Tags: #Romance, #young adult, #high school

BOOK: Fourteen
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He sat down, dropping his keys on the space next to him.

“Can I explain it all to you now?” he asked, folding his hands in his lap.

I closed my eyes and, laid down on the hard surface, my legs still dangling off the side. Then I raised my legs and placed my feet flat on the edge.

“Yeah.”

“You know that Steve throws these parties whenever his parents are out of town, and I always used to go to them. It was just common knowledge that I’d attend, and I never disappointed. Grace took the video; I thought she was only taking a picture. I was drunk, and I was on my way to being pretty damn high, and I didn’t . . . I didn’t know you.”

“Do you think—?”

“Please just let me finish?” he pled.

“Fine.” I kept my eyes closed. “We were being assholes, and Steve asked me that just because it was when we were first paired up for the project, and it was a fun topic for us.”

I flinched, crossing my arms over my stomach.

“His parents bought him his BMW a few days after the party, and he hasn’t driven the Buick since. I had to throw out those boots from the video because I’d worn the soles off them. That’s what I was trying to tell you in class the other day.”

“I know that now,” I said. “It doesn’t change the fact that you still said those things.”

“I know that. I wasn’t . . . Anna, I’m not the same person now.”

“What changed?”

“When I grabbed you that day, and I put marks on you . . . Jesus Christ, Anna, that was like my fucking wake-up call or something. I was raised to respect women and treat them as queens and to
never
put my hands on them that way.”

He stayed quiet, and I finally opened my eyes, staring up at the star-specked sky as I thought of what to say.

“My dad, Zack, isn’t my biological father.”

Through the dim beam of the streetlights, I could see the muscles in his back tense as he pushed us.

“What?”

“My real father abused my mother.” He looked over his shoulder at me, and the pain on his face nearly took my breath away. “He hit me once when I was three, and that was what it took for Mom to call the police on him. I’d always said I’d never be that way to anyone, no matter what. And I . . .” He looked away from me. “My first memory is of him coming at me and hitting me as I sat on the living room floor with a coloring book while my mom screamed at him, and I just . . . I
hurt
you. I put
marks
on you like he did to me and my mother and . . .”

I felt him stiffen as I got up and sat down behind him, pressed myself against his back, and wrapped my arms around his waist, while I rested my cheek on his back.

It didn’t make the things he’d said about me right, and it didn’t get him off the hook completely, but it sure as hell helped me understand a lot more about him. Not everything was as perfect and as peachy in his life as he’d made it seem, either.

“Anna, it’s not an excuse to get you to believe me.”

“I know,” I whispered, tilting my head up and resting my chin on his back. “I know.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Evan, please, you were already forgiven for that.”

“When I said those things, . . . I . . . I had no right to say them. No one has any right to say anything about you, and it took me hurting you to realize that. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I don’t deserve your company. What I deserve is for you to kick me to the curb and make me suffer for everything I’ve ever done to you.”

“I would never do that.”

“But you should!” he exclaimed, pulling my arms from his waist and jumping up to pace in front of me. “God, you
should
.”

“But I won’t.”

“Why?”

“Everyone deserves a second chance.”

“I’ve already had my second chance with you, remember?”


This you
hasn’t had a second chance with me.
This you
is different than the guy I talked to three weeks ago.”

He stared at me, and I stared back, doing my best to think of anything else to say to him. I’d never expected to hear something like this from him and wondered why we had never talked about his past before. It was a small town and people couldn’t keep their mouths shut about crap like this.

“Why didn’t I know about your dad before?”

“Your father actually made sure to keep it quiet for us. The only people that knew were the neighbors who saw the cops show up, and the cops themselves.”

“How did my dad—”

“My mom needed a lawyer, and since this is such a ‘big town’ and all, it didn’t take much convincing on your dad’s part to ask the police to keep it quiet.” He shrugged and smiled sadly at me, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“The neighbors didn’t say anything?”

“The neighbors were Kyle’s family and Zack.”

Well, that explained everything. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“You always refer to Zack as your father . . .”

“He may not be my biological father, but he’s always been there when I needed him. He’s more of a father to me than Greg was, and that’s all that matters to me.”

I curled my legs underneath me and stared down at my lap as I fidgeted.

“When did your feelings for me change?” I asked. “When did you want to be with me?”

“When I came to see you after Brittany and Grace wrote those things on your locker. When you let me get you out of the house and trusted me when I asked you to.”

“Why?”

“You are such a good person, Anna,” he said. “When I saw what had happened to your locker, I just . . . I saw red.” He chuckled darkly. “You’re funny and sweet, and you’ve got more personality than anyone I used to call friend. You’ve never tried to fit in, you’ve never asked for anything from anyone, you’ve never
bothered
anyone, and all we did was torture you. It took that incident for me to really get it.”

“I’m not thin, Evan. I probably never will be.”

“I don’t fucking care about that.”

“You used to.”

“I used to care about a lot of shit that I don’t anymore. Anna,” he said, taking a step forward and crouching down in front of me, “You’re beautiful. I meant it when I said it before, and I mean it just as much now. Everything about you is beautiful, and I’m sorry for everything.”

“If I say that you’re forgiven, will you stop apologizing?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“You’re forgiven.”

“You’re not just saying that out of pity?”

“Evan . . .”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“Do you believe me about the pictures and the party?”

“Yes.”

“Do you hate me?”

“What? No!”

“You should.”

“Evan.”

“I mean it!”

“I thought you were trying to get me back?”

“I’m just trying to make things right.”

“What do you think you just did?”

“I don’t know.”

I snorted.

“There aren’t any more videos, are there?”

“I’m honestly not sure. And if there are, they are not recent.”

“I’m sorry for not trusting you and not listening to you.”

“I wouldn’t have trusted me, either. You’re not at fault here, Anna.”

“We’ll get through it.” I leaned over and grabbed his hand, holding it tightly. “High school doesn’t last forever.”

“Thank fucking God for that.”

“Amen.”

He laughed weakly, and I tugged on his hand. He stood, and I pulled him back down to sit in front of me. He slid his knees onto the platform, and he grabbed onto one of the bars.

“I want to try again with you,” he whispered, resting his head against the bar behind him. “If you’ll let me, I want to try again.”

“What do you think we’re doing right now?”

“Sitting here while I pour my pathetic heart out to you and beg you to take me back?”

I laughed and twisted our fingers together, bringing the back of his hand to my cheek. He trailed his knuckles down my cheek, and then dropped our hands to my lap.

“I’m going to make mistakes,” he said.

“So am I. And we’ll figure them out together, Evan. This isn’t something we have to be perfect at.”

“You’re so much smarter than I am,” he whispered, chuckling.

“Yeah, well . . .”

His mouth dropped open, and I laughed, throwing my head back and then shrieking when he tackled me. He hovered over me, a crooked smile on his face as he anchored his elbows on either side of my head.

“You said it!” I exclaimed.

“You weren’t supposed to
agree
to it.”

“I cannot tell a lie.”

“All right, George.”

I laughed and placed my hands on his chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat underneath my palm.

“You make that happen,” he whispered.

I met his eyes.

“What?”

“You’re the only one who could make my heart beat that fast.” He chuckled, looking away. “Whenever you’re around me . . .”

“Anna Radar?”

“Kyle,” he said, dropping his forehead to my shoulder.

I wrapped my hands around his shoulders and closed my eyes when he buried his nose in my neck.

“Can I ask you something?” I said cautiously.

“Anything.”

“Were you ever embarrassed to have me meet your family?” I waited anxiously, dreading his answer.

“When we first had to do this project, yes,” he said. “But the more we talked, and the more I got to know you . . . it just didn’t matter anymore.”

“And then I showed up on your driveway.”

“Something like that.”

“Was it Brittany and Grace that put the DVD on my doorstep?”

“Yes.”

I grunted, and he lifted his head.

“They’ve been taken care of.”

“You didn’t fracture their jaws too, did you?”

“No!” He laughed. “Ashley took care of it.”

“How?”

“Aside from Mrs. Gold, she’s yearbook advisor. She’s also very crafty when it comes to using Photoshop.”

“What would she—”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Alright.”

“What do you say, Anna?” he asked, gently nudging his nose against mine. “You want to be my girlfriend again?”

“I
suppose
so.” I sighed dramatically. He looked like I’d just kicked his puppy. “Joke, joking. Too soon? Crap. Sorry.”

I placed my hands on his cheeks, rubbing my thumbs underneath his eyes. “
Really
sorry.” He turned his head into my palm, pressing his lips to the center and raising his hand to cover mine.

I buried my other hand in his hair, silently counting the times he kissed my palm.

“Yes, by the way.”

He laughed, kissing my palm for like the eighteenth time before wrapping his fingers around my hand and looking back down at me.

“I’m different,” he said.

“I know.”

“So . . . can I kiss you whenever I want?”

“If you really want to.”

“I really want to.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

He smiled gently. “You.”

“I’m trapped underneath you. I’m clearly not going anywhere.”

“Do you want me to move?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Then stop complaining.”

“Are you going to get to the kissing sometime tonight, or do I need to go home?”

“I’m not sure I’d like that.”

“Well then get to it!”

He leaned down, kissing me at last.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered, pulling back from me slightly.

“I’ve heard.”

“Fucking Kyle.”

“Your mother.”


What
?”

“She said it at the game. You know, you talk a lot for someone who supposedly wanted to kiss me.”

“My
mother
told you that I missed you?”

“Yes.”

“Well hell.”

“Sherri said you were miserable.”

He groaned and buried his face back in my neck. I laughed and wrapped my arms tightly around his neck, closing my eyes and turning my head to brush my nose against his cheek.

“Traitors.”

“Were they right?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t so great without you, either.”

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