Life on the Level (29 page)

While she’s gone, Taylor comes in to give the room a final mop, even though he’s just going to have to do it again tomorrow. He makes his way over to me, and leans on the wooden staff.

“How you holding up, Empire State?”

I can’t help but look horrified. Maddie called me that, and he knows it.

“Fine,” I say, unable to restrain my anger.

He chuckles, which doubles my anger. “I just wanted to let you know that I have some new stuff. You haven’t visited in a real long time. I’m starting to miss you.”

He doesn’t go as far as to touch my hair, but his hand makes the motion.

“Do you miss Maddie, too?” I level my eyes at his. He makes a face, but stays quiet. “Who’s your assistant now that she’s gone?”

“What makes you think Maddie was the only one?”

“Did you even care about her?”

“You of all people should know that everyone is means to an end.”

I want to puke on his face. I want to beat him with his own mop. Just then, Julie walks in. She drops the box of clothes and gasps.

“Oh, sorry. I was just—”

“Hey Julie,” Taylor says to her in that slick voice of his. “Can’t wait to see your costume.”

She turns a bright red, and then he’s gone.

I’m stewing in my rage when Julie speaks. “Have you decided?”

Have I decided what? How I’m going to take down Taylor? Where I’m going to be in a month? What I’m supposed to do with my life after this is all over? This place was supposed to be my getaway from my troubles, but now I feel more buried than ever.

“Hm?” I ask, when I realize she’s holding up a few garments for me.

“Have you decided what you’re going as?”

I try to smile. “Not yet. Let’s just work on you first, okay?”

“Okay. I want to be something pretty, but not childish. The problem is that everything for the girls has these frilly things. Who even wears this?”

“I think this is all from the ‘80s.” I hold the lacey gold dress up to examine it. “I don’t know how much safety scissors are going to help. I wish I had my sewing machine.”

“You can sew?” she asks, as if I just confessed I could travel in time.

“Just basic things. My dad taught me. His mother was a seamstress, and he had to help her when she worked.” When I was little, and my dad was down and we had no money, he would make me clothes. Frilly dresses that made me look as if I was a human cupcake. I never bought a Halloween costume because he’d always put something together for me. I was never allowed to tell anyone that my big, tall, manly father was the one making my costumes, but I was happy just to have something no one else was wearing. Something my daddy made just for me. I think of him sitting by our beat-up sewing machine, his mustached face stern as he cuts up fabric for his little girl’s dresses.

I feel like there’s something caught in my chest as I cut fabric away from this dress. I don’t care what anyone tries to tell me. My daddy loved me.

Julie decides she wants to be a space princess, and we put together something out of the gold and silver pieces in the bin. God bless ‘80s fashion. I make something for myself, which I think is pretty funny. When my eyes are red and my body is tired, I head to my room and lock the door, only to find Hutch already asleep on my bed. He’s only wearing boxers. His arms are over his head and his lips are parted. He makes a cute whistling sound when he sleeps. I lean against the wall and admire the glorious sculpture of his muscles. His leg twitches, and he mutters something that sounds like my name. He could be saying “Woof!” and I’d mistake it for my name, because that’s what I want to hear coming from his lips.

I feel gritty after spending all day decorating. I barely let anyone help me, which Helen told me was the opposite of teamwork. But I needed to keep my hands busy. I turn on the shower, drop my clothes, and then jump right in. The water is always cold at first, but it steadily warms. I turn up the heat, the steam rising and clouding around me. I turn my back to the stream of water and relax into the water pressure. The one thing I do miss is having a proper bathtub, not just a shower.

I slather foamy body wash on, and breathe in the sea-scented chemicals.

Hands, strong but gentle, wrap around my waist. I collapse into Hutch’s hold, resting my head against his chest. He runs his hands over my breasts, my belly, and down between my legs.

“I’ve missed you,” he says.

“I saw you this morning.”

He chuckles into my ear. “Still. It’s not enough.”

I sigh as he rubs me down until I’m shuddering in his hold. I press my ass against his hardness, loving the way his husky voice vibrates against my skin. The shower stall is tiny, and there’s not enough room for the both of us to be in here at the same time. I press myself against the cool tiles, and he follows. We’re both slippery and wet and holding on to something bigger than the both of us. I gasp as he finds my center from the back and thrusts into me.

“God you feel amazing,” he whispers, burying his head in my back.

I get lost in the pleasure of his rhythm and the way he embraces me. He’s hard and soft, strong but sweet, and I love the dichotomy of everything he is. A few seconds with Hutch make my worries fall like petals in the wind. He’s stirred my heart in ways I didn’t think possible. I tighten my muscles, and he pants deeper and faster. When he pulls out, I spin around and grab his shaft. The shower washes away his release.

He grabs me by the shoulders, like he’s trying to get me to focus. He looks deep into my eyes, and he opens his mouth like he wants to tell me something, but then he changes his mind and comes down for a kiss. We stand under the water, touching and caressing until our fingers start to prune.

When we’re dry and back in bed, he presses me against his chest.

“River,” he says.

“Hutch.”

“You feel distant.”

I turn around to face him, throw my leg over his hip and bat my eyes. I think I know what he means. I’ve got a lot on my mind. The past, the present, and the future are creating a soupy serving of confusion. But I’m me, and I’m going to deny it.

“You were literally just inside of me.”

“Don’t be smart.”

“Can’t help it.”

He licks my nose. “You know what I mean. I want you to be able to talk to me. I’m more than just my body.”

I bite his chin and he hisses, then smirks. I reach down and grab the hard curve of his ass.

“I just keep thinking about things I can’t really solve right now. Are you worried Ransom knows more about me than you do?”

He caresses my face. “Maybe. I want you to be able to talk to me. That’s kind of part of the boyfriend thing.”

It’s still so weird to call him that. Despite that, I can’t help but smile. He presses the softest kiss to my lips.

“I don’t think you know just how much you mean to me,” he says.

“How much?”

“As much as the state of Montana.”

“Texas is bigger.”

“From here to Texas, then. From Texas to New York to Australia. More than all the lands here or anywhere. I don’t think my love for you can be contained on this earth, quite frankly.”

I stiffen.

My heart gives a powerful squeeze.

He said the L word. Granted he didn’t tell me he L-words me, but still. All of my muscles seem to petrify, and I’m pretty sure I’m holding my breath. He lifts up my chin. I’m unable to break away from the fierceness in his dark eyes.

“I love you, River Thomas. I love all the things that make you you, the broken parts and the good. I just wanted you to know.”

I love you, too! I can feel the words lodged in my throat.

It’s like we’re in a silent staring contest all of a sudden. No guy has ever spoken to me like this before. It’s usually a tangle of sheets and passion that burns out faster than it started. That’s how I like it: no-strings-attached fun. With Hutch, it’s more than just strings. We’re sewn together.

The silence goes on for a dreadfully long time, and he’s still looking at me, waiting for me to speak. I’m an idiot. I’m a fool of a girl who fucks up, and I’m just going to fuck him up too.

I love you, Chris Hutcherson. I love you from here to New York and as far out into the galaxies as anyone has ever traveled and beyond. I love you in the secrecy of the stars and under the blinding sun.

And yet, I can’t bring myself to say it.

I close my eyes and rest my head on my pillow, still facing him. He traces my arm until he falls asleep.

“Goodnight, Hutch.”

• • •

When I wake, he’s gone, and I taste regret on my tongue. I feel shitty about not being able to respond to him last night. I search for him throughout the day, but the staff and patients are dispersed, buzzing about their costumes and the food and the music. Eventually, I give up looking for him.

If he wants to avoid me, fine.

I just want to explain that I do love him. It’s just that I don’t know how to say it.

The girls decide to get dressed together in Vilma and Jermania’s double room. Vilma paints herself a unibrow to look like Frida Khalo. I part Jermania’s hair and give her two Princess Leia Buns. Julie spins in her reused prom dress, smiling like I’ve never seen before.

“What are you supposed to be?” she asks me.

I stand up and hold my arms out. I spin, and my pink skirt billows around me. I’ve covered my skin in glitter and confetti, and brushed my hair into a high bun at the top of my head. Vilma decided to do my makeup with things from our pooled supply.

“I’m a cupcake!” I say.

She makes a face, like she doesn’t see it.

We head down early. I’ve never gotten somewhere early for
anything
. Look at me! I’m responsible.

Helen comes over and puts her hand on my shoulder. “Great job, River.”

I dip into a little curtsy and go to the food table to stuff my face with sugar, while keeping an eye out for Hutch. Ransom declares himself DJ for the night, which is fine because, if it were anyone else, I’m sure all we’d be listening to is Hank Williams.

Randy is dressed in the same clothes he wore on family day.

“What are you supposed to be?”

He leans into me and smirks. “I’m my father when he was younger.”

“You don’t need therapy at all.”

He pulls me onto the dance floor and spins me around to a Michael Jackson song. He keeps glancing over my shoulder.

“What do you keep looking at?” I ask.

He tries to hold me in place to keep me from turning around, but I know who he’s watching. And Pete’s watching us back. He looks pissed off, and his eyes are on me. Randy and I are not dancing sensually at all, but by the look in Pete’s eyes we might as well be naked.

I spin back around and grin at Randy. “Oh my God.”

Randy rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

I grab him by the shoulders. “Relax, I’m not going to say anything. But it totally makes sense.”

He deflates and shakes his head. “I guess. Pete’s really cute and sweet. He’s the person I wish I could be if I wasn’t so fucked up.”

I grab his face and make him look at me. “Listen to me, I’m not going to give you any life advice because I’m pretty terrible at life myself. But you shouldn’t hide who you are.”

“You know, the first time my dad caught me with a guy was in junior high. I thought he was going to beat the life out of me. Almost did. So I told him it was a mistake, and then I just figured out a way to start having sex with girls.”

“Viagra?”

“For the past ten years.”

“That’s the most horrific thing I’ve ever heard, and I watched a guy get tortured for owing twenty grand to the Italian mob. How has your heart not given out?”

“You don’t get it. You’re from New York, where anything goes. My dad won’t give me my trust fund unless I get clean and find a wife.”

I stop laughing. “It was ten years ago. Don’t you think… he might be ready to listen again? I watched my uncle get married to another man surrounded by his Catholic Latin family. Don’t be an idiot.”

“Drop it, River.”

“No. This is your life. I’m just saying. Don’t hurt someone just because you’re afraid to be who you are. Straight people don’t ‘come out.’ So why should you?”

The music changes to something slower. He grabs my waist and puts our hands into waltzing positions. I look at the terribly handsome, terribly arrogant guy in front of me. His whole life is a front for someone he doesn’t know how to be.

“You know, my dad wasn’t perfect,” I say, “but I know he loved me. That’s the only unconditional love we can count on.”

“My dad’s not like your dad.”

“I could also say there’s more to life than money.”

He rolls his eyes. “That’s what poor people say.”

I try to stop convincing him that he’s making a terrible mistake. I know better than anyone that you can’t make someone change their mind.

“What about you?” Randy says. “You and Nick seem pretty close.”

I must look confused, because he doubles over laughing. I stumble on the steps of the waltz, never having waltzed in my life.

“I’m just kidding. Mostly he just walks around drooling over you. You’re too busy looking at someone else.”

My heart seizes. “You’re crazy.”

“I might act like a fool, but I see things. Besides, Nick is so high most of the time, the drool just comes naturally.”

“Wait, you know?”

Randy nods. “Yeah. Julie tried to get me to go to the barn the other night. Like I said, I need to be clean. Now I just have to work on the bride. Want to be my beard? I’d totally take care of you. You wouldn’t even have to sleep with me. My father only had kids for his legacy. If you really think about it, why should I be any different?”

I slap his chest. I can’t tell if he’s serious or not. Right now I’m still thinking about what he said about Julie. I’ve never seen Julie at the barn. I feel like I did the time I tried to hotwire my dad’s car after he hid the keys from me. I failed.

As the waltz comes to a crescendo, Randy dips me. He must’ve taken lessons, while I don’t like to be led, and I look so awkward trying not to fall onto the floor.

“Don’t look, but someone’s pretty jealous.” He spins me in a circle and then walks away. I’m facing Hutch, who’s leaning against the wall with a cup of punch in his hand. He’s the Indiana Jones of my dreams in his hat and vest, and, oh my God, he’s even got a whip hooked onto his belt. I feel caught, standing in the middle of the crowded dance floor with patients of all ages dancing to pop from 2001. I want to run to him. I want to say the words he wanted to hear when it mattered. I was just afraid.