Holding On (6 page)

He was not a cheater.  He would never intentionally cheat
on anything
or
anyone.
I
understood
this;
his
girlfriend
did
not.
She
did
not understand
our
relationship
and
because
of
that,
she
always
assumed that we had something going on behind her back.
We
never gave her
a reason
to
think
those
things,
but
she
just
assumed,
and
when
they
would
fight, that was what she would always bring up as a means of
defense.

Crap!
We’ve
given
her
a
reason
not
to
trust
us,
and
all
I
can
do right now is laugh. Brad was looking at me like I was
crazy,
and I
was
laughing
so
hard
I
was
crying.
He
reached
out
and
grabbed
my
hand, and the instant he touched me, I stopped, sucked in a very large
breath, and held it. He took my hand and put it over his heart and held it
there.

“You
live here, Becca.
You
will always live
here.”

That was all he said before getting out of my car and driving
away.
OMG!
What
was
I
going
to
do?
At
that
moment,
I
wanted
nothing
more than for him to hold me again. I wanted him to kiss me again. I
wanted
him
as
more
than
just
my
best
friend,
something
I
had
contemplated over the years but had always pushed out of my mind. I wanted
more. I
could
feel
my
heart
breaking
inside
my
chest
at
the
thought
that
we
would never get that. There just wasn’t enough
time.

I didn’t
see
Brad
the
rest
of
the
weekend.
We
texted
a
few
times. Nothing about the move was mentioned and nothing about the
kiss, either. I was trying to ignore what had happened. I chalked it up to
an “Oops…”
We
were having an emotional moment. It was an 
accident. He
didn’t
mean
to
kiss
me,
right?
What
about
the
second
time?
Was
that just an “oops”
too?

Ignoring what had happened between Brad and I was
impossible.
We
both
attempted
to
act
normal
and
pretend
that
it
never
happened. Our
friends
didn’t
seem
to
notice,
or
at
least
they
didn’t
say
anything
to me, but still there were moments when I felt that things were
different. The
slight
brush
of
his
hand
when
we
were
walking
to
class
or
when
he put his hand on the small of my back sent shivers through my body
and heat
to
my
cheeks.
I
felt
like
the
entire
world
could
see
right
through
me.

I was a fraud! For the past five years, I had been telling people
that we
were
just
friends
and
defending
out
nontraditional
relationship.
Now
I couldn’t possibly say a word to anyone without feeling like a  
fraud. I was trying hard to hide my feelings from everyone, myself
included. If
I
admitted
it,
then
it
would
be
real.
If
it
was
real,
then
leaving
was
real. If leaving was real, then I would have to face losing him. I
wasn’t delusional enough to think that I wasn’t going to have to leave him
in the
end
anyway.
I
just
wanted
to
avoid
it
until
the
last
minute.
If
we
started
something
, anything, it would be finished before it could really begin.

Not
to
mention,
Claire
was
still
upset
about
what
had
happened Friday
night.
Brad
never
showed
up
to
his
party,
and
neither
did
I.
When she
questioned
him,
he
told
her
that
we
had
been
dealing
with
some
personal
issues
of
mine
and
that
afterward
he
went
home
and
passed out. I wasn’t buying that he went home and passed out. I knew that
he was upset when we parted, and I figured he went home. I just doubt
he slept at all that night. I know I didn’t. She wasn’t buying it, either,
until he told her I was moving. I’ve never seen her so happy in my life, but I couldn’t even find the emotions to get angry at her reaction. I was
too full of guilt for anything else to sneak its way
in.

After he left the other night, I sat in my car staring out the
window
at
where
he
had
been
parked.
I
don’t
know
how
much
time
passed
before I
finally
drove
back
home,
but
it
felt
like
an
eternity.
I
ran
every
possible scenario through my mind on how to change my situation. I could
live with
the
twins.
I
could
get
my
own
place.
I
could
live
with
Brad
and
his
family.
The problem was I knew that my mom would never let any
of that
happen.

The
only
scenario
that
would
work
would
be
to
go
live
with
my dad, and I didn’t want that. My dad is great—when
he’s
around.
 
He’s
constantly working or traveling.    My parents’ marriage failed
because my
dad
couldn’t
devote
enough
time
to
family.
Back
then,
it
was
all about
work,
getting
promoted,
making
money.
Now
after
losing
us, he realized that work should be a number 2 priority and his number
1 priority
is
traveling
with
his
latest
fling.
I
could
not
live
that
kind
of
life.

The buzz around school about me leaving swept through the
halls quickly, thanks in large part to Claire’s elation.   By the end of the day on
Monday,
it was pretty much common knowledge.  
Walking
into
the yearbook room the last hour of the day was when all my emotions
rose to
the
surface
again.
I
had
worked
so
hard
to
get
where
I
was.
I
had earned
my
title
as
editor-in-chief.
I
was
going
to
have
to
give
that
all up, and instead of walking into that room and telling   my teacher
what
was going on, I walked right past the door and out to the parking lot
to my
car.

As
soon
as
the
bell
rang
for
school
to
end,
my
phone
started
to
blow up. First, there were a few messages of concern from my close
friends who noticed that I had skipped last period. Then came the
excited messages
about
throwing
a
party
in
my
honor.
My
friends
were
sad
but felt that since I was going, they would send me off in style with a big celebration.
We
were not leaving until the first of the year, so
New
Year’s
Eve
was
the
big
bash.
My
friends
Ella
and
Emma,
the
twins, asked
their
parents
if
they
could
host
the
party,
and
being
that
I
was
such
a “good kid” in their eyes, they agreed. It took about ten text
messages and three phone calls before our very large group of friends and
plenty of other people knew the plan, and the party was officially
on.

Tuesday
was
even
less
exciting
than
Monday
had
been.
Instead of the bright smiles I would normally get in the hallway, I saw
plenty of
pity
on
the
faces
of
my
friends.
Brad
was
the
worst.
Per
usual,
he met
me
at
my
locker
before
each
class
and
we
walked
together.
Our
normal, upbeat conversations had been replaced with deafening
silence
as
we
walked.
I
was
always
thinking
about
ways
to
bring
up
the
kiss, but
it
never
seemed
like
the
right
time.
Would
someone
overhear
our conversation?
Did
he
regret
what
had
happened?
I
know
that
I
was
confused, but I definitely did not regret our
kiss.

Friday
morning,
my
final
day
of
school
before
break,
before
I moved,
before
I
said
good-bye
to
all
of
my
friends,
things
were
even weirder
than
normal
between
me
and
Brad.
He
held
his
head
high
as he grabbed my hand on our way to my first-period class. I tried to
pull
away,
knowing that Claire could be lurking anywhere, but he held
tight and pulled me along. Thankfully, we didn’t see
her,
but plenty of
other people saw
us.

The
same
thing
happened
on
the
way
to
all
of
my
other
classes.
Finally,
I
quit
trying
to
pull
away
because
holding
his
hand
felt
right.
Yearbook
was
my
last
period
of
the
day,
and
the
closer
we
got
to
the classroom, the slower my feet started to move. I didn’t want the day
to end.
I
didn’t
want
to
let
go
of
his
hand.
I
saw
the
looks
we
were
getting, and
I
didn’t
care
anymore.
I
wanted
to
hold
on
to
him.
He
was
my
rock. He was the only thing that was getting me through this last
day,
and
he knew
that
I
would
need
him
today
before
I
even
knew
that
I
would
need him.