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kisskissbanggang · 4 years

Text

Prowl pt. 2

[30+Min. Read/12.1K Words – Mystery Member👀 x Female Reader, Bang Chan x Female Reader, – Monsters!AU, Mostly Plot, NSFW/Smut – Vampires & Werewolves, Heists, Mysteries, Suspense, Blood, Questionable Coping]

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The cold, salt air tickled your nose as you watched the sun finally complete its journey beneath the horizon. You arose from your seat by the window, taking a sip from your first steaming cup of coffee for the night. However, maybe you didn't need to stay inside and hoard your aunt's coffee maker again. Maybe it was finally time to explore the town.

It'd only been about a week since that night at the library. The cops came roughly fifteen minutes after you punched the silent alarm, surprised and bewildered by the bloody and bruised girl sitting in an exhausted heap on the office floor. The paramedics arrived before you could protest, already feeling antsy about the time persistently crawling towards daybreak. A medic cleaned you up while the police looked around the library, scraping under your nails and pulling errant strands of hair that had clung to your sweater. It was difficult to feel present, to truly grasp if anything had actually happened that night. Really, it all sounded ridiculous and that only helped everything feel more surreal. The woman tending to you looked puzzled as none of the blood she meticulously wiped up revealed anything more than minor scratches underneath. A man in a suit excused her and pulled up a chair. He asked for your name, what you do at the library, did you know see anything recognizable about the perpetrators. You were almost no help, having seen no one’s faces, except…

“Well,” you carefully paused, “one of them helped me make it out alive. They were talking about taking me or maybe even… I don't want to think about what, but one of them helped me.”

The detective sat up, alert with pencil in hand and poised to go.

“Chan,” you said quietly, looking up from your shoes long enough to see the detective's eyes widen for just a second, “he said he saw me at the bar earlier. He can't be much older than me. Has a scar on his nose. He convinced the others to leave me here.”

“Do you think this ‘Chan’ had ulterior motives in keeping you alive?”

“I think he’s just a good guy working with a bad crowd,” you shrugged, eyeing the detective cautiously, “I just wish I could see him again. Ask him some questions of my own. Let him know how thankful I am.”

The detective had nodded knowingly, penciling in a couple notes and snapping his notebook shut. “Well, miss, that about settles my needs,” he said as he got up and smoothed out his suit jacket, “I understand that situations like this can take a toll on a person. I would consider seeing the school's mental health counselor… Maybe take a trip to the coast.”

“Wouldn't you want me to stay in town for questioning?” You asked curiously.

“No need. We have your phone number. Besides, there’s plenty of us around, even out there. We can find you if we need to. Or you can find us just as easily, for that matter.”

And, with that, the detective had nodded his thanks and left you alone in the office, just as Chan had not long before.

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So you went to the coast. Leaving school wasn't difficult; the counselor may as well have packed your bags for you when you explained what happened. Your aunt had lived here for years now, keeping residence in a quaint A-frame that overlooked the beach from where it sat up in the forested hills. You remembered dreamy summers spent here when you were younger, wondering what it was like to live in a sleepy town that had an off-season. You'd never been here when the leaves changed color, and you suspected that was the most exciting thing that happened the rest of the year. It was easy to hide out, telling your aunt you had a hard time sleeping at night after the incident and that you'd rather sleep during the day when you felt safer. Lying felt bad, heavy in your gut, but no one in your family knew about your condition yet. It wasn't time. You weren't sure if it would ever be.

Your aunt kept the keys for her dumpy pickup hanging by the door. She offered that you could use it to get around town while she slept, even if not many things were open late in the off-season. Her only caveat had been that you had to be careful — apparently “hooligans” had been a problem around town. However, you felt restless and you knew for a fact that the diner at the end of the main street was open, having passed it on your bus ride into town your first night here. The diner was hard to miss, sitting next to a storefront with a line of fluorescent tape barring the entrance.

The diner was lively and warm as you walked in despite the scarce patrons. The truck’s heater was shot, so you had bundled up in a coat with your bandana up over your nose. The bandana still smelled thickly of Chan, having tucked it into the pocket of your skirt before the police came that night. Even after washing it repeatedly to rid it of all the blood, it still smelled perfectly like him. It was almost a totem, shielding you and keeping you feeling safe. Even though you still had your doubts, you held onto this idea of him. As long as that smell was surrounding you, he was always near and you could face anything.

You let the bandana drop around your neck and hung your jacket on the back of a chair at the bar. The staff was sparse, only two old men who were friendly enough to make up for their speed. Apparently, these were Bill and Fred.

“Well then,” Bill smiled, “a stranger at this time of year? Who do you belong to?”

You smiled and thumbed over your shoulder to the truck parked outside and both men erupted into boisterous laughter, more than happy to share anecdotes about your aunt from over the years.

“So, young lady,” Fred asked as they finally brought you your cup of coffee, “what do you do when you’re not escaping to the beach?”

“Oh,” you stumbled over your tongue as you sipped at the hot brew, “I'm an assistant with the rare books section of the university’s library.”

“Fancy that,” Bill beamed, “you must have one hell of a head on your shoulders.”

“In fact, you probably would've loved the old bookstore next door, before—” Fred shushed himself instantly as Bill waved frantically for him to stop. However, you perked up.

“Yeah! I wanted to ask about that. What happened there?”

The two men looked warily at each other.

“You don't want to hear about that, young one,” Bill attempted. You shook your head.

“I really do. I can handle it.”

Not taking the bait, Bill folded his arms as Fred leaned in.

“We've been having a lot of vandalism going on in town this season,” he said quietly, “even some petty theft. But this is the first time in ten years someone was killed. And certainly the first time anything like this has happened. These punks—”

“They're not just some punks,” a voice behind you spoke up. A young man, barely younger than yourself, stood up from the booth he had been sitting at. He was handsome, lithe in the area’s requisite flannel shirt and a denim jacket that was probably older than he was.

“You keep saying that,” Bill shook his head, “but I—”

“I know, I know,” the stranger sighed, “nothing ever happens here. But Mr. Shepherd wasn't just robbed, he was murdered.”

“Sure,” Fred shrugged helplessly, “but where did they go? They could be down the coast by now.”

“Or they're still here,” the stranger insisted, stepping forward and pressing his hands down on the bar. “I've been noticing something weird on my way home each night. Smoke out past the trailhead. But I never find any camps or fires.”

“Then tell the police,” Bill said simply.

“You're right,” the stranger replied flatly, “why am I even bothering telling you.” He dug his wallet out from his pocket and flipped a couple of bills onto the counter. “Thank you for the coffee as always. Hers, too.”

You almost felt bad for the old proprietors of the diner, but you understood where this stranger was coming from. You had questions, just like he apparently did. From everything you understood about the business, thieves hardly ever stole books. And — considering the possibility that you were right and the detective had pointed you in the direction of Chan — then these same wolves had stolen more. Why books? Why here? Why kill the bookshop owner and not you? Chan’s voice rang through your mind, “I care about innocent people getting hurt, they don't.” Something had to have happened but you couldn't figure out what.

“Poor kid,” Bill grumbled as he topped off your coffee, “he's been working at Adam Shepherd’s place next door for a few years or so now. Even rents a room in his house. He's been taking it real hard. Hasn't had it in him to open the shop back up.”

“Can't say I blame him,” you commiserated. Fred and Bill nodded in solemn agreeance as you took a hearty gulp of your coffee. You stayed, asking about the trailhead and where it was even though you know you shouldn't, that you were only inviting yourself into a rabbit hole. But if Chan was out there and he could tell you why this was happening and maybe even help you steal back the college’s property, then maybe it was worth it. You had to admit you felt a bit humiliated, that you could let your guard down to a handsome face and electric personality long enough to be robbed blind, but something about Chan had ignited something primal in you — something that felt entirely foreign, but at the same time something you could vaguely understand the shape of.

You had to at least see for yourself. Bill and Fred were sad to see you leave for the night, but eagerly professed their excitement to have you back during your stay. You still left a generous tip on the counter despite the stranger paying for your coffee. In searching the dilapidated pickup, you found a utility knife and a hefty flashlight as far as anything useful went. However, useful was useful and at least there was anything at all. You drove up to the trailhead, making note of landmarks along the way.

As you stepped out, you pulled your handkerchief back over your chilly nose and warily observed a compact motorbike parked next to the trail map. The outlined path twisted up the hill, around the creek, and down to the beach — just as the duo at the diner had described. You gripped your flashlight and set off.

The hiking trail was well-kept, clear and fortunately illuminated by a moon in waxing gibbous hanging heavy in the sky. The ground was firm beneath your feet and gave way to sandier terrain as you neared the creek. Sure enough, there was smoke high in the forest, far off the trail. The best plan of action appeared to be to hike the trail as close as you could before venturing through the woods and brush.

A chill coursed through your shoulders and spine as you heard a branch snap in the distance behind you. You turned, refusing to click on the flashlight in your hands in case you might spook whatever had spooked you first. You burrowed deeper into your coat to shield you from the draping cold of the night and blazed ahead.

Another snap behind you stopped you in your tracks, only for a moment as you realized the sound was closer this time. You looked up ahead. Despite the supplied moonlight, you still had to squint to make out that the trail curved around to follow the creek up ahead. If you cut through the woods you could probably make it to the other side and back onto the path.

The footsteps grew faster as yours did, leaves crunching underfoot as you scrambled into the brush. You yanked your handkerchief down to breathe, to grab lungfuls of air when you smelled it. An overwhelming breeze of veal and sweat flooded your nose. Not to mention that somewhere, a some point, the rugged scent of woodsy beach fires had been here. Was your mind playing tricks on you, or was Chan nearby?

The creek came into view. It was a good bet that the trail came out somewhere on the other side, but it was a bet nonetheless. As the panting steps behind you began catching up, you vaulted over the creek, not wanting to risk falling into the cold water when you were on the run. You silently cheered yourself on as you caught a lucky break, a cursing splash erupting behind you to let you know you lost your pursuer. You sprinted ahead, dashing over rocks and felled branches and dodging low foliage when you caught sight of a figure ahead of you. The only difference was they were going the same direction you were: away from whatever was behind you. Still, one in front, one and who knew how many more behind you. Beyond the figure the trail came back into sight, with a shack and driveway attached nearby. A dumpy outpost to sell bait by the creek and beach, assumedly. You must've been nearing the road again.

You hazarded a look behind you as you ran up to the shack. Turning back to the front, the figure in front of you had disappeared. Sure enough, a modest shop sign hung above the door, and another hung in front reading “Happy fishing! See you next summer!” The season was wrong for buying bait, but it was perfect for hiding out. You ran around the rear of the modest shop and found the back door. You jimmied the flimsy screen door’s lock easily enough but the wooden door beyond proved to be more of a challenge. Thankfully, you guessed just how safe the town thought it was as you spied a coffee can sitting on the crowded porch. You kicked it over, picking up the spare key and letting yourself in.

The first step to securing a hiding spot for now was to lock both doors behind you. Next, you clicked on your flashlight. A chair was parked under a desk in the tiny back room and you grabbed it, dragging it over and jamming it under the doorknob. Now your biggest concern was getting out of here before sunrise, the clock on the wall agreeing with the time on your phone that it was getting dangerously close to sun-up. You just had to make sure you were alone so you could escape to the truck. You checked the store proper, looking between cluttered shelves in the tiny shop to check for anyone hiding when a noise startled you in the dark. You clicked the flashlight back off and considered your options. Going out the way you came seemed too easily cumbersome. The fastest option was to hide. You ducked into the back room once again and crawled under the desk. You sat as still as you could, steadying your breath to be slow and quiet when the front door crashed open with a hushed curse, the bell over the door jamb ringing the intruder’s arrival. Whoever it was breathed hard, heavy with adrenaline and fear. No scent of veal, no more than Chan’s scent hanging around your neck, but something new — something like seared venison, almost. Venison and buttercups. The figure also checked around the shop, looking around and soon enough making it into the back room. You clapped a hand over your mouth, nervous as a pair of shoes confronted you under the desk. What was the best move? You could wait, but your fellow intruder would probably check under the desk if they were smart. Then you would be cornered with nowhere to go. No, the best plan was to fight your way out now and get back to the truck. You mustered all the patience and energy and fearlessness that you could before grabbing at the ankles in front of you. The intruder cried out, falling over as you pulled on his legs. He crashed to the floor, getting his arms up to protect his face as you scrambled out in an attempt to crawl over and away from him. Your arm was snatched, pulling you down and rolling you onto your back as the figure cursed and struggled with you on the floor. One of your wrists was clutched down onto the hardwood floor in a desperate hold. Gripping your flashlight, you smacked him hard once, twice on the back, and your assailant let go of you long enough to try and snatch it out of your hand. You dug a knee into his hip, kicking him off and away from you. You clicked on the flashlight, pointing the beam right at his face.

“Hey! A bit late for a hike, isn’t it?” You breathlessly accused as you were faced with the young man from the diner. He held up a hand to shield himself from the light and you turned it back off. Even just by the light of the moon, his large eyes still shined wildly in the dark.

“A bit late to be chasing and attacking strangers, isn’t it?” He bit back as he massaged the arm he fell onto.

“I wasn't chasing you,” you defended, “I was being chased myself.”

“By who?”

“By wolves.”

You got back up and onto your feet, offering the man your hand to help him up. He looked at you cautiously enough that you could make it out in the meager moonlight streaming in through the streaked windows. Nevertheless, he took your hand, getting up and dusting himself off.

“Were you trying to find your stolen books?” The man asked. You straightened up a bit, on edge.

“I didn’t mention being robbed back at the diner,” you replied carefully.

“No, but unlike a lot of people here, I watch the news. Only thing is, the news didn’t mention anyone present at the university robbery other than the thieves themselves. But you mentioned back there that you work for the library. And if you’re here now, then you must be looking for them, too.”

You sighed heavily as you took a step closer. He took one step back. “No, it was an honest coincidence. My aunt really does live here.”

You weren't sure why you were lying, or even if it really was lying at all for that matter. You took one more step closer. He took another step back. “Quit it,” you soothed, “I hit you really hard. I want to see if you're okay.”

The man eyed you warily as you gently took his hand again and led him to sit on the desk. You gingerly slid one arm out of the sleeve of his jacket before you softly lifted his shirt to check on his back. The bruises that had erupted on his skin were just starting to darken. You lightly touched the marks, feeling for anything broken or loose. The pulse of blood rushing through him made your heart skip a beat. Suddenly, you were painfully aware of how tired and hungry you were. How long had it been since you properly fed? The man winced and groaned as you thoroughly checked him, but you admired how he beared it.

“Hey,” you quietly offered, wanting to help distract him from the pain, “I’m sorry to hear about Mr. Shepherd. You were close?”

He nodded solemnly. “We were close. I was a teenager. My foster parents moved us around a lot growing up, and one day I just realized… I didn’t need to be there. They weren’t doing anything for me that I couldn't do myself. So I waited for them to try and move us again. We took a quick stop on the road here, and I just ran. I ended up at the bookshop. I had no family, no money, no manners, and he treated me like a person. He was my first real friend.”

Your heart sank. It was difficult to imagine not only losing someone so close to you, but to also have the thing you shared get destroyed and ravaged? You squeezed his shoulder sympathetically, jumping as the alarm on your phone buzzed. Sunrise was coming. You shook off your odd rush of sentimentality and focused.

“Well, thanks for not being a murderer — what was your name? I never caught it.”

“Jisung,” he supplied with a small smile.

“Alright Jisung,” you smiled back, “I'm glad to diagnose you as bruised but otherwise fine, but I have to go. I’d offer you a lift but—”

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” he waved you off, “I rode here. Are you sure I can't walk you back to your truck?”

“No, I—” your heart raced, making you trip over your words as you noticed the sun peeking over the horizon. You were so tired all of a sudden.

“Hey,” Jisung perked up, hopping off the desk as your stance wavered, “are you alright?” He followed your glance out the window and looked back at you, eyebrows raised dubiously.

“Yeah,” you smiled weakly, “I guess I just wore myself out tonight.”

You attempted to steady yourself on the edge of the desk as your vision faded. Jisung took one step closer. You took one step back, teetering as you finally fell asleep in the growing daybreak.

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It was alarming to wake up in your own bed back at your aunt's house. This still took getting used to occasionally, waking up as if no time had passed. You pulled open the curtain — your aunt's truck was parked in front of the house as if nothing had happened. How did you get back? The heavy flashlight you’d held onto all night was laying next to you in bed.

A quick shower helped soothe your worried mind, the hot water massaging your sore limbs and helping you think. You bundled up in some fresh clothes and jumped into the truck again, flashlight in hand. Your mind began winding up even more as you drove into town. Jisung’s motorbike wasn't parked anywhere near the diner or the bookshop, so you ducked in to see the old proprietors of the coffee shop.

“Hey,” you smiled, trying to look casual as you walked up to the counter.

“Nothing better than someone who’s consistent,” Bill smirked. “Nice to see you again. Coffee?”

“No, thank you,” you grinned, “do either of you know where Jisung is?”

“Ah,” Fred waggled his eyebrows at you, “so you caught up with him last night?”

“Oh, uh,” you stumbled, “I had some books I wanted to lend him.”

“Sure,” Bill laughed, supposedly knowingly, “well, if you have books to lend him, of course. If he’s not at the shop, then he should be home. It’s tricky getting up there, though; hardly any street signs out that way.”

The men were nice enough to give you directions once they were done ribbing you, and you promptly thanked them and trotted back out to the truck, all the while hoping the growing wind chill masked the blush spread across your face.

You drove back up the main street, up towards the cliffs at the top of the town's skyline. The woods grew more dense, crowding the road as the streetlights became more scarce. The truck wound its way up a woody drive, the trees finally peeling away to a clearing that revealed an immaculate, old Victorian. You found yourself gawking at the spires and weathervanes decorating the roof as you approached the porch. For some implacable reason, you felt a bit dumb ringing the doorbell of this perfect stranger in the middle of nowhere late at night. A ray of light hit the lawn from the upper level of the house as a curtain was pulled open. It took a couple of excruciating minutes for the figure in the window to warily approach the door, and then you were confronted with Jisung sizing you up on the threshold, surprised and looking much cozier than the other night dressed in a pullover and sweats.

“What’re you—”

“How did I get home last night?”

Jisung bit his in-progress retort to a pause and sighed. He stepped aside and presented the entryway to you. “It’s freezing out there. You can come inside and I'll explain.”

You thought about it, fingers fidgeting as you weighed the options. You stepped across the threshold. Jisung led you into the foyer. You spied a sitting room gathering dust just off the entryway. Jisung started up the staircase, pausing halfway to check if you were following. Cautiously, you stepped up the creaky stairs after him, finding yourself walking into another sitting room up here. Stacks of books surrounded a few pillows sitting on the hearth of the fireplace, across from a plush couch and chaise lounge. Jisung held a hand out, motioning for you to take a seat on the couch while he plopped down on the lounge. You found yourself still taking in the room. A four-poster bed sat in the corner of the sizable space. Jisung caught your attention, watching him watching you observing the room.

“So,” you prodded, “downstairs—”

“It’s in progress,” Jisung replied coolly, “there's a lot to clean up... Now that Mr. Shepherd isn’t using it. Besides, my room’s the warmest in the house right now. Didn't you want to know how you got home?”

You nodded. “All I know is I was talking to you, and then I woke up at my aunt’s house.”

Jisung simply shrugged. “It wasn’t a big deal. You fainted and I carried you back to the truck. We weren't far from the road. I just loaded my bike in the back and found the keys in your pocket. So I drove you back and put you in bed. Your aunt actually passed me on her way to work. She didn’t look like she had any idea, so I figured everything was fine.”

You watched him stiffly. Why did this feel hazardous, like you were crossing a rotting bridge? “Well,” you said carefully, “thank you. I appreciate it. Last night wasn't too fun.”

“It's alright,” Jisung smiled softly, “Mr. Shepherd had fainting spells, too.”

“Oh yeah?” You eyed him pointedly.

“Yeah,” he nodded soberly, “During the daytime. He was sensitive to the sun.” Jisung’s hard gaze matched yours, sizing each other up again. Were you both aware of what neither of you were saying?

“Then I'm extra glad it was you that broke into the store.”

“I passed it when we were being chased but I got cut off in the woods again. So I turned back and there you were. And I'm glad it was you and not someone else.” Jisung’s cryptic expression made the hair on the back of your neck raise, the shadows cast by the fireplace giving any nuance in his face a mysterious edge to it. The heat of the room exaggerated the smell of venison, of sun-kissed buttercups. You shook off whatever oddly inviting sensation this was and got up from the couch and swiftly turned to leave.

“Alright then, now that we cleared up what happened last night, I can get going. Thank—”

“When was the last time you fed?”

You paused, frozen despite the warmth of the fire. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know why you’re hiding,” Jisung got up as well. He took one step closer. You took one step further away. “Again, when was the last time you fed? You went down too fast and too hard for it to have been recently.”

“Why do you care?”

“Look, I'll level with you. I've been a blood bag for years now, running errands for Mr. Shepherd during the day and keeping him fed.”

You watched as he lifted his pullover and the shirt underneath. Illuminated by the fire, you could see where under the line of his ribs, right above the definition of his smooth stomach, laid a thick scar.

“You’re a familiar?” You asked quietly, unbelieving. You'd heard about familiars, but only in books. They were hardly ever purported to still be around. Nevertheless, Jisung nodded as he dropped his shirt back down.

“I mean, if you want to get formal about it, sure. But what I really was, was his friend. He took care of me. I would've done anything for him.”

This made sense, now that you thought about it. An offbeat working relationship and friendship like any other, just with this added element to it.

“Alright. So I'm reading you correctly. You’re offering—”

“I’m offering to help you.”

Your fingers twitched at the thought. You’d been getting increasingly hungrier since you came to town, but with that sensation came unease. This condition had brought you nothing but trouble. “Then tell me why you want to help me?”

“Because I want your help in return.”

The answer was so simple but nowhere near satisfying. You scoffed before you could stop yourself. “Oh, so a trade? And why should I help you?”

Jisung pushed a hand back through his hair. “You’ve dealt with these guys before. You’re smart. You can help me figure out what they’re doing and why.”

“And why would I want to do that?”

“Look,” Jisung said quietly. He took one step closer. You stood your ground. “I've lost my best friend. Our business is in shambles. I have a chance to fix that, but I still can’t fix everything. This is all I have, trying to get back what’s rightfully mine and finding out why Mr. Shepherd had to die the way he did. It wasn’t humane. It wasn’t fair.”

The look in Jisung’s eyes nearly made your heart crumble. He truly was broken over this, and you couldn't blame him one bit. He took another step closer. You still held your ground. You could hear the waver in both of your breathing.

“My whole life has been turned on its head,” he continued, “I'm sure you can relate. Helping Mr. Shepherd was part of my routine, my consistency, and that included feeding. And now it’s gone. Now I just live in a house that's too big and the walls are full of ghosts. Let me help you. If not for getting back what we lost, then to help me regain some control over my life.”

Jisung took another step closer. You took two steps back. This felt unfair to ask of you. It felt too big, too serious. You suddenly felt like a giant fool for coming out here. Not just to this house, but to the coast. Figure you did find Chan, what could he do? Would he really just tell you everything you wanted to know? This was dumb and reckless.

“I'm sorry,” you murmured, turning heel and rushing down the stairs, leaving Jisung in your wake as you ran to the truck. You refused to look back as you caught him in your peripheral, watching you from the porch as you swung the truck back around and went flying down the drive.

Back at the house, you sat on the bed by the window, watching the sun just begin to rise as you pensively sipped the last of some tea. You crawled under the covers, deep in thought. Did you want to let sleeping dogs lie?

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Waking up the following night was much more graceful, considering you laid down for a rest before sun-up. Following this method, you've found you could maintain a sort of sleep schedule that felt like your old life. You were still horribly preoccupied. You were almost a ghost, drifting around the house and aimlessly distracting yourself from your growing hunger and the constant stream of thoughts running through your head. Could you take Jisung up on his offer? Would that be any good for you, or him for that matter? Should you just go back to school? Did you even want to find Chan anymore?

One of these questions were answered as you sipped your first cup of coffee in bed, attempting to read and feel productive. You were startled as you heard a sound you hadn't heard since high school: a pebble bouncing off your window. Your fingers nervously peeled back the curtain, uncertain that you were really seeing what you were seeing.

Chan.

You crashed around the room, throwing on some jeans under your comfy flannel shirt and pulled on your coat. You ran downstairs as quietly as you could, tugging on your boots all the way. As you stepped out on the lawn, he looked so natural, just sitting on the rear bumper of the truck. You paused, taking in the sight of each other in the cold silence of the night before he rose to his feet.

“I knew you’d be here,” he smiled breathlessly. He took one step closer; the only signal you needed. You closed the short distance in an instant, your arms flung around his neck in moments. He held you tight, his nose buried in the crook of your neck and breathing you in before you took his face in your hands. A new scar had appeared under his eye, moving in next door to the one still healing on the bridge of his nose. Even though you had imagined this moment over and over, you never expected Chan to take your face in his hands as well and eagerly press a chaste kiss to your lips. The sensation made your heart leap in your chest but you excused it, refusing to get too excited over what was probably just an impulse.

You led him over to the porch swing and sat him down. His grabby hands reached back for you and pulled you down onto his lap. His fingers wandered your thighs and hips as he looked up at you expectantly. He didn’t look as if he could tell you had almost too many questions. In fact, he looked more like this was just a fun date. Well, you figured, if you wanted answers, you’d have to start somewhere. “What do you mean, you knew I'd be here?”

Chan looked down, absently focusing on his hands on your waist. “Me and the others split up around town to lay low. We move camps every two or three nights. We were right out there—” he explained, pointing out towards the dense woods flanking the property to the east, “when I saw you come home with your aunt that first night. But I didn't feel safe. I wasn't sure if you wanted to see me after what happened at the library.”

It was your turn to get lost in your staring, this time at his pulse beating in his neck. You shook yourself out of it. “For a second there, I was thinking the same thing.”

Chan nearly cooed for how gently he poked you in the ribs. “Oh, come on now. After what we did that night, how could I not want to see you?” Your spine went rigid despite the set of hips under yours teasingly bucking up against you. Chan was oblivious, instead taking notice of his bandana poking out of the pocket of your coat. “Wait, is that mine?” He marveled. “What the hell? That’s so cute. You’re so cu—”

“What do you mean, after what we did that night?”

Chan scoffed lightheartedly despite your hard lean away. “Awh, come on, I'm just joking.”

You rose with a start, making him jump. “You’re joking? I’m not,” you said briskly. “I come here on some wild chance that I'll find you and, if not, at least try to get over that night back at the library. I want some closure and you just want to relive a good lay.”

“Come on,” Chan rolled his eyes, “that’s hardly what I meant. Besides, it wasn’t even the sex I was referring to. It was the feeding.”

“Fine,” you crossed your arms impatiently, “Let’s talk about the feeding. Namely, what the others were doing while it happened.”

Chan shifted uncomfortably on the swing. “I don't know.”

You laughed out loud, getting Chan to jump again. “Oh bullshit you don't know. Why the library? What did you steal?”

“I don't know. It doesn't matter.” His gaze hardened, watching you cautiously as his fists clenched and unclenched.

“If it doesn't matter, then help me steal it back.”

“Excuse me?” Chan stood now, glaring down at you. Maybe he realized how reckless he was being, getting caught up in you like this. You stepped closer to him.

“Don't act offended. You dragged me into this by letting me live,” you laughed meanly, stabbing a finger into his chest, “I feel used and lost and my pride is hurt, and I want to do what's right. Help me steal it back, whatever it is.”

Chan exhaled hard. “I honestly don’t know. The others won’t tell me. And I'm not going to help you steal it back.”

“Why not?” You asked rigidly.

“Because this is critical. I want to take these guys down. You want that, too, don’t you? Then I have to let them get away with it for a bit.”

“Fine,” you sighed, “then why prove to me that you’re here? I'm sure you figured I'd want some answers.”

“I—” Chan looked away, suddenly nervous, “I meant it about the feeding. I've been thinking about it ever since. It’d never happened to me before, but it definitely never sounded like that when people described it to me, and the closer to the full moon we get, the crazier I get about it. I feel like I'm fucking mad about it, mad about you.”

You cursed your gut for igniting at the sight of how much you could see Chan meant it. Your hunger alone almost made you fall for it, let alone everything that attracted you to him that first night. However, you tried to remain focused, instead trying to see the almost pathetic desperation, the cloying affection masking his near-addiction. If he wanted you as anything more than that, you were confident he wouldn't even know for himself unless you gave in to him first. And you didn't want to give in to him.

“Come on,” Chan pleaded, “please.” He took your hand, leading it to cradle his face again. His fingers guided yours back, back around to his hair at the nape of his neck where he led you to grip him roughly. “Help me,” he begged, “you can be in charge. I'll do whatever you want.”

“Then get out of here,” you said, trying your hardest to sound firm.

“Baby, please—” Chan whined.

“No. I'm not your baby. And if you're not helping me then I'm not helping you. Now leave, or I will.”

“Don't leave,” Chan ordered desperately, changing tactics as he grabbed your wrist. You wrenched it away and stepped off the porch.

“Fine,” you snapped, “you get one more chance. Ready?”

Chan looked at you expectantly, eyes practically glistening at the prospect.

“If you won't tell me what those assholes stole from the library, tell me what they stole from the bookstore. Tell me what they stole from Mr. Shepherd.”

And the shine in Chan’s eyes was gone. “So now you're caught up in that, too?”

You laughed again, now too impatient to care how mean you sounded. “Caught up in that? It’s not the latest town gossip or something. There’s a literal crime scene down on main street. He’s dead, Chan, and that doesn’t just affect him. People cared about him, and good people at that. Tell me what you stole.”

Chan’s fists clenched firmly by his sides. “I can’t tell you,” he said quietly.

“Alright then. Come back when you want to help me,” you affirmed. Chan watched helplessly as you climbed into the truck and started it. He vanished in your rearview as you tore off down the drive. You drove furiously, unsure of what to do and what to expect from him now.

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑

You pulled the truck down the alley behind the bookshop, stomping the brake and squinting in the dark for any sign of Jisung’s bike. The alley was empty and quiet, devoid of the motorbike as you searched around. You tested the doorknob at the rear entrance for the bookshop, momentarily surprised as it softly clicked open. Fair enough, you supposed, makes sense. What’s the worst that could happen? The store could get robbed all over again?

The door creaked as you cautiously let yourself in, gently shutting it behind you and taking in the shop’s backroom. The space was crowded, cozy, with spare stock lining the floor and shelves surrounding a small roll-top desk with accounting ledgers and notebooks on it. A single lamp barely illuminated the space in here. You leaned in to inspect the desk when a small sound in a minor breeze caught your attention. You turned your head to the source: a broken line of caution tape at the door that lead to the shop proper.

Stepping inside, you were immediately taken with the smell of aged books, but not without a faintly menacing hint of blood. The shop was surprisingly stuffed considering its wares and how small the space appeared to be. There could be books spanning centuries in here but it would still take you weeks — maybe even months — to figure that out for yourself. The store was truly intimate, a winding maze of shelves that gave way to a comfortable couch and some easy chairs gathered around a coffee table at the back of the floor. Like any good place to read a book, it felt like you could escape and unwind here. That is, before the place had been trashed.

The destruction was mostly contained at the center of the shop floor, but that still encompassed multiple shelves of books. Ripped pages and bindings joined ravaged books on the floor, some still dotted with errant specks of blood. You carefully stepped around the mess and found yourself at the counter. The rest of the lights were off in the store, save for one lonely floor lamp standing guard over the register, the thick shade casting just enough light over the countertop and wall behind it. A framed photo hanging there quickly caught your attention and you stooped in to inspect: a tiny, jolly old man, his crinkled eyes turned up in a smile as he had an arm slung around Jisung’s shoulders right where you stood. The caption penned in the corner of the photo in pointy script read, “J’s first day as partner.” You were suddenly incredibly curious as to how old this vampire had been. Really, Mr. Shepherd looked old enough to be Jisung’s natural grandfather, which made your chest ache. What had happened for him to turn at such an old age? More photos sat on the shelf beneath the picture frame. Jisung posing with his new motorbike, Jisung by himself pointing at their new sign that proudly proclaimed reinstated daytime hours, Mr. Shepherd smiling next to a new computer and a load of new books he never thought he could get from all over the world. A memo pad sat next to the photos, right under the phone hanging on the wall. You picked it up as you noticed the last date was fairly recent, and held it close to read in the dim store. Scrawled on top, indented with the ghosts of previous notes that had been written before, was Jisung’s chaotically neat print.

Shep,

Forgot to grab the mail today. I'll be right back to do inventory with you.

-J

“You know, that was the first time I ever forgot to grab the mail,” came a sullen laugh behind you. You whirled around, catching Jisung standing down the aisle in the doorway to the backroom. He was back in his worn denim jacket, this time over a well-used hoodie. The sudden panic in your chest dulled. “It’s weird,” he continued pensively, “how tiny things can have these giant consequences. I slept in, so I was running late, so I didn’t go to the post office, so I had to get the mail that night when I remembered... so I wasn't here. I should've been here.”

“Jisung…” You started, but you had no idea how to continue. Jisung took a tentative step over the threshold onto the shop floor.

“It's just bizarre, you know?” He continued, half-heartedly caressing spines of books as he passed. “You live this normal enough life, and something happens because of the tiniest thing and you feel like you'll never be the same again.”

“I get that,” you empathized, kneeling down to a scattered pile of books on the floor and picking them up. He watched, almost shocked that anyone could even begin to clean this mess he'd been avoiding. “You go on the wrong date,” you continued, “and the rest of your life changes and you never get to experience noon again. You swing back by the office to grab something you forgot, and you almost get whisked away by a pack of wolves.”

Jisung finally stopped watching, now squatting down next to you to help make the smallest dent in the carnage of the store. “So even after they robbed you, they almost took you?” He shook his head in muted anger. “Sounds about right.”

The hair on the back of your neck bristled. That sentiment sounded familiar. “They’re not all bad. They’re just as lost as we are. One of them convinced the rest to leave me behind. I was sort of hoping I'd find him out here. He was a good guy.”

“Well he must've moved on. One of them killed Mr. Shepherd. The rest watched. No good guys to be seen.”

You pictured the shadow of the wolf that had finally ordered the rest of the pack to leave you that night at the library. The book in your hand slipped from your fingertips, the thud on the floor making you jump. “I thought you weren't here.”

“I wasn’t. By the time I got here, he was already practically... dead.” He struggled with the words, the quiver in his quiet voice not helping much. “I got here in time to watch him die. So I may as well have not been here at all.”

You stacked the rest of the books that had sat in your arm, alphabetically by author’s last name by your feet on the floor. You hadn’t thought to ask Jisung how the store was organized, instead just doing what made sense at the moment to get things a little less chaotic. Books were easy. People, as a general rule, weren't. You found yourself unsure of how to help make Jisung a little less chaotic himself. What felt right was to gently place your hand on his between picking up books. He paused, just experiencing the sensation for a moment.

“How long have you been like this?” He asked thoughtfully.

“Only a couple of years,” you shrugged.

“Really?” Jisung’s eyes brightened with a surprised smile. “You’re practically a newborn!”

You'd laughed about it, your hand still lingering on his as you both moved to sit and relax on the floor now that there was a little more room.

“Was it hard to adjust? Mr. Shepherd would tell me he didn’t remember what it was like starting out.” Jisung still held onto your hand, now absently playing with your fingers. To be honest, you didn’t mind it.

You thought back. It felt like decades had passed since that first night. “I cried a lot,” you smirked darkly, “I grieved, you know? And you know the worst part?”

“What?”

“That asshole never called me back like he said he would.”

That did it. Jisung relaxed, letting out a hearty laugh that you hadn't heard yet. Now that you heard it, you just wanted to hear it again.

“Don't get me started,” you continued with a grin, “I hadn't even thought about those growing pains again until just now, and for good reason, apparently. The first time I fed was a disaster.”

“Oh god,” Jisung chuckled, “did you have anyone to help you learn the ropes?”

“Not yet,” you admitted, breathless as Jisung’s laughter pulled more from you as well until he paused. The shift in his focus was stark. You were taken aback as Jisung pulled your hand to turn you more towards him where you both sat on the floor. He lifted a hand to your face, softly cupping your cheek. The scent of venison and spring buttercups flooded your senses and you almost felt dizzy taking him in. You observed him curiously as he gently pulled at your cheek to look at your eyes.

“What are you—”

“Look how glazed over your eyes are,” he noted casually, now gingerly turning your chin to get a better look, “You still haven't fed since I last saw you.”

“Well, I— I mean that I— No. Not I haven't,” you admitted sheepishly, painfully embarrassed as you already felt the points of your canines threatening to emerge at the mere mention of feeding.

“Come on,” Jisung nudged you. “Let me help.”

“Jisung—” you began warily.

“Trust me. Please?”

The last time a guy asked you to trust them, you’d fallen down this entire rabbit hole. However, Jisung felt genuine to you. You nodded, nearly smitten with how his eyes lit up before you leaned in closer. Your breath barely ghosted over his jugular when he jumped.

“Wait— what are you doing?”

You leaned away fast, terrified that you may have scared him. “What do you mean, what am I doing?”

“You mean,” Jisung babbled, “you really do… That?” Eyes wide, he vaguely gestured towards his neck.

Now you were just confused. “Alright, Mr. Blood Bag, how did Mr. Shepherd do it?”

“Well, I mean, he didn’t want to make it weird for me. I showed you what he did.”

Recalling the other night, you brazenly reached for the bottom of Jisung’s shirt, startling him into falling back against the bookshelf. You rose back to your knees in hopes of getting a better look. He watched curiously as you inspected and pored over the scar before setting his shirt back down.

“So, you've never had it any other way?” You asked, almost unbelieving. Jisung simply shook his head, still observing you. “I’m trusting you. Do you trust me?” At this he nodded. You inhaled deep through your nose to balance out your breath, catching the pulse in Jisung’s throat hinting that he was trying to do the same. If he'd never had it this way, you figured, then he deserved a nice first time. You leaned forward, between his spread knees where he leaned back on the floor so that you were right back where you started, your breath hot on his throat. Jisung shivered as the tips of your canines grazed over his skin and you placed a soft hand on the other side of his neck to hold him steady. “Inhale,” you quietly instructed in his ear, wanting to do whatever you could to make this good for both of you. Jisung nodded intrepidly and you waited to hear, to feel him take in a good lungful of air before you sank your extended teeth into his skin.

His first gasp nearly set you on fire, finding it endearing as he clutched your arm for support in his shock. You were energized by such a positive sign, and even more so as he failed to bite back a low groan. The first layer of blood on your tongue hit you harder than you predicted, an uncontrollable moan from your craving escaping you and making Jisung freeze against you. In just that instant, both yours and his hands reached, grabbing onto each other as you gained more firm purchase over the skin of his neck. You weren’t seeing stars like you had with Chan, but something about the near innocence of your embrace invigorated you.

Growing dizzy in the high that blood this fresh always gave you, you felt emboldened as you crawled into his lap on the floor of the bookshop. You pulled away from Jisung’s neck, practically coming up for air. He looked up at you with something akin to impressed adoration, his own glazed eyes mirroring your own now. Swept up in all this spontaneity, you found yourself leaning in, following some force that was pulling you together — that is, until the distinct sound of a sniffle and a shaky breath perked your ears up.

“Jisung?” You asked quietly, trying to get him to look at you. “Are you al-”

“What, am I alright?” Jisung chuckled flippantly, “Yeah, I'm fine.”

You slid off of his lap, watching as he turned away. He roughly pulled the sleeve of his jacket across his face.

“Jisung—” you lightly chided, surprised as he got to his feet. He paced the floor, pushing a hand through his hair and trying to calm himself down.

“I'm fine,” he insisted with a grin. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and sigh, getting to your feet as well and following him as his pacing carried him down the aisle. You gently grabbed his hand and turned him around, pulling your handkerchief out of your coat pocket and blotting up some of the blood still wet on his neck. He stiffly pulled away like a kid from their mother when they try to pat down a cowlick.

“You’re not fine; you’re upset.” You lamented, trying not to get distracted by how appealing the congealing blood on his neck looked.

“I'm not upset, I'm angry,” he grumbled.

“Maybe you should be upset. You can't just be angry.”

Jisung batted your hand away with an exhausted laugh. “It’s not that easy.”

“What, confronting your feelings? It’s not supposed to be all the time. That’s why it’s called a confrontation.”

He side-eyed you, apparently relieved that you could keep up with him. His shoulders softened as he let out a deep sigh. Swiftly, he pulled away from you once more. He paced a few more steps to the end of the aisle, head hanging, before he stopped. You could see as he defeatedly shook his head from behind.

“I guess I haven't let myself admit that I'm really fucking lonely now,” he let out a tired chuckle, “I never realized how spending so much time around someone really affects you until they're gone. So with you around, and doing this… I guess it’s a little overwhelming.”

“Jisung,” you light-heartedly admonished as you gently took his hand again and pulled him around to look at you, “if I had realized sooner then we could've stopped. I got greedy. You gave me more than enough to get me through. I just, sort of — I dunno, I like being around you; I feel like you understand where I'm coming from, and I got carried away, and —” You let out a muffled squeak, your rambling cut short by Jisung’s hands cupping your face and his lips finding yours in the dark. You reactively pressed your hands to his chest and pushed him back. Jisung stared, embarrassed and just a bit confused.

“Oh,” he blinked, “I'm sorry. I was just — like a minute ago when you were feeding, I thought — I mean I was going to —”

You couldn’t help but grin, content enough with Jisung's apparently innocent intentions to match your own. You didn't need a soulmate or a boyfriend, you just needed someone to be close to for a bit, something you felt like Jisung understood despite his shock as you grabbed onto the collar of his jacket and yanked him close, kissing him with vigor as you fell back against the bookshelf. Jisung’s arms wrapped around your waist, hugging you close to him as he stepped back.

“Come on,” he urged against your lips, “you don’t have to cut yourself off; I can do more.”

He stepped back again, tripping back onto the couch in the reading nook at the back of the store and pulling you down on top of him as you kissed.

“Jisung,” you countered nervously, “I really think I'm fine, it’s enough for now--”

You were interrupted once again as Jisung scratched at the drying wound on his neck, getting it exposed again and dipping a thumb into it.

“Come on,” he pleaded again, “don’t lie to me. You need it. I need it.”

Before you could protest, his fingers delicately but firmly cupped your face, his thumb tracing the line of your bottom lip and smudging a drop of blood along it. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end. The sensation raged through you and you could practically feel your eyes dilate as your lips closed around his thumb, sucking it dry before releasing. Reluctantly, you pushed yourself away and sat up on his lap, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. His hands reached after you, holding onto your thighs as if he were afraid you were going to run away.

“Sorry,” he breathed, “I need it so badly. I need you so badly.”

“I know,” you empathized, “I just don’t want to get carried away.”

“You won’t.”

“And if I do?” You insisted.

“Then I'll stop you. It’ll be fine.”

You chewed on your lip, weighing the consequences. Your eyes wandered over Jisung, his chest rising and falling with each shaking, desperate breath. He looked up at you, eyes pleading and adoring and so, so needy. The unmistakable feeling of a developing erection pressed up against you where your hips met, and it only served to cloud your judgement further. Your eyes darted from the wound on his neck, leaking down onto his hoodie, to his lips slightly parted with each bated breath, to his eyes anxiously waiting for you to decide. And you decided.

You were still hungry.

Your fingers delicately brushed his fringe out of his eyes, caressing his face before stroking your fingers back into his hair and roughly gripping him. He grunted as you guided his head to the side, opening up the access you had to the expanse of his neck. His breathing almost stopped entirely as your teeth grazed his skin, his hands clutching tight onto your waist. When you finally pierced through him for only the second time of the night, you both moaned, grabbing onto each other and practically shivering in pleasure. Blood washed warm over your tongue, nearly making you whimper from finally satisfying your hunger. And, thankfully, you didn't feel yourself overdoing it. For as much as you eagerly scratched and languidly lapped at Jisung’s neck, you thankfully found the bloodlust in your gut die down. And, for as much as you worked him over, he let you do it. He held fast onto you, groaning and hissing through the intermittent pain. His hips rolled up against yours as you fed, a response you figured he was just as surprised with himself. Something sparked in the back of your mind, making up for the lack of stars you’d seen when you'd fed on Chan, a ghost, a shadow loosely resembling affection for the man moaning under you. It was odd to feel connected like this, to be so comfortable with someone you hardly knew, but you wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.

Jisung’s hands stayed firmly around your waist until you guided them to the buttons of your flannel shirt. “Wait,” he chuckled nervously, “are you sure--”

“We’re not done yet. This is still open,” you explained as you playfully poked him in the open wound on his neck, making him jump and curse, “and besides. I want it. I want you.”

He couldn’t resist, just as you couldn't before, and he slid your coat off of you before he resumed what you had led him to do with your shirt. Jisung carefully unbuttoned your shirt and slipped it off of you, immediately taking notice of your skin raising in goosebumps as he admired you. A basket sat on the floor by the couch and he quickly excused himself for just a moment to lean over and rummage through it and grab a blanket to drape over your shoulders before he unzipped his hoodie. He shimmied out of his jacket underneath you and worked off his shirt, these joining the growing pile of clothes on the floor as you both kicked off your boots. You huddled under the blanket with him, the warmth of his breath on your neck mirroring yours as you nuzzled against him. Your fingers danced along his collarbones and down his smooth chest.

“How many other girls get to enjoy this blanket?” You teased, giggling against his neck with him as you lazily licked up the rest of the blood you'd let out for yourself.

“Excuse you,” he laughed, “I happen to like reading on this couch when there's no customers, and I like to be comfy while doing so, thank you very much.”

“And how often are there no customers?”

“We sell used and rare books in a tourist town on the beach. When are there ever customers? Why do you think I can afford to take my time cleaning up around here?” You shared a laugh together before you pulled his lips to yours again, your tongues mingling in a way that made him moan deep. When you finally pulled back, the blood that you'd smeared against his mouth contrasted against his skin in the prettiest way.

“Well then,” you offered, the lilt in your voice hinting at things to come, “maybe once we’re done here we can work on cleaning up some more.”

“I’d really like that,” he replied breathlessly, gasping as he felt your hand search under the blanket for his hard-on. “You seem like you know what you’re doing,” he smirked.

“It’s useful to know what you’re doing when you're trying to get what you want.” You sat back, now further down on his thighs as you worked his belt and jeans open. Your hands traveled up the lines of his taut stomach, making you both wince as your fingers brushed over the thick scar on his ribs. “Are you alright?” You asked softly.

He nodded heavily, almost like he was refusing to get emotional again in a moment like this. “Yeah. I'm fine. I'm just really glad you're here. Helps me stay focused.” Just as you were about to question what exactly he was focused on, Jisung’s hands suddenly found purchase on the waistband of your jeans, pushing them down and apparently trying to remember to breathe as he came across your panties underneath. You backed up off of his lap, shrugging off the blanket for a moment as you shuffled off your jeans onto the floor as well. A muffled exclamation sprang from him as you laid back on the couch, pulling him on top of you with another kiss. Once he pulled the warm blanket back over the both of you, his hands joined yours in pulling your dampening panties off and dropping them to the floor. Just as he went to push his briefs and jeans further down, you stopped him.

“Both of us don’t have to freeze to do this,” you smirked, “now keep me warm.”

Jisung grinned as he nodded and kissed you again, one of his hands traveling between your bodies to see just how wet you were getting for him. Pleased, he tested his hard length in his grip before you felt it nudge up against your entrance. You gasped as he smoothly slid inside you, Jisung’s warm hands all over you as he slowly, almost lovingly thrust into you. Your hands wrapped around him, your nails occasionally digging into his back when he thrust a little more roughly.

“Jisung,” you pleaded, “fuck me.”

“Anything,” he reassured you, “anything you want.”

“Awh,” you cooed, “anything?”

“Anything,” he reaffirmed, “you’re a fucking princess for how much I'd give you.”

Jisung was nearly too lost in his rough thrusts against you, but he still noticed the small grimace you made at the pet name. His hips slowed. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you grinned after shaking yourself out of it, “I’m just glad you’re here. You keep me focused, too.”

Jisung nodded, his smile matching yours as he tipped your chin up to kiss him again. He pulled you up against him, sitting back on the couch and setting you on his lap. You held him tight, one hand on his shoulder and the other in his hair as you rocked your hips against his. Your pert nipples caught his attention from where you sat on his lap, his arms wrapped tight around your waist as he closed his lips on your breast. A shiver ran up your spine at the apparently intimate gesture. You almost felt light-headed, the first hints of an orgasm coming to mind when Jisung leaned you back enough just to press a thumb to your clit as you rode him.

“Mmph, Jisung,” you whined for him, “you think you can cum with me?”

“No, no, wait,” he breathed, “bite me again--”

“Again?” You asked, grabbing onto his shoulders to help even out your quickened pace on his warm cock.

“Yeah,” he nodded desperately, “it felt amazing. It hurts in the best way.”

You sighed, considering if you even really wanted to say no before nodding and kissing his forehead. You leaned back, the cool fabric of the old couch meeting your back once more as you pulled him back down on top of you. Jisung kissed your hungrily, his hips bucking hard against yours as he continued massaging your clit. This time, as he moved his head aside, his lips found your neck and you simpered, loving the way he so gently pressed kisses to your pulse and grazed his teeth over your skin.

One of your ankles hooked back over his hip, your other leg spread wide so he could keep rubbing you closer to orgasm as you caressed his head to the side. Your hunger satiated, your teeth wouldn’t extend much by just willing them to, but you were still able to sink enough of the tips into his fresh wound. The sensation alone moved you to the precipice of your climax, the way Jisung tensed against you enough to push you over the edge. You pulled him to you for another brutal kiss, the copper taste of blood smearing against both your tongues as you whined into your orgasm. His hips faltered, his hand clutching tight onto you as he came along with you. Jisung’s cum flowed hot into you while he held you close, gasping for breath and whispering thanks and gratitude and sweet nothings in your ear until his hips finally stilled.

The both of you stayed like that, holding each other close until Jisung slowly eased out of you. He kissed your lips, your cheeks, your nose, your forehead -- everywhere as you smiled and took it.

“Did we really take that long?” He asked incredulously, peering out at the tall windows peeking out over the tops of the shelves at the front of the store. Over the thick valances, the first hints of orange were starting to streak in through the window.

“Oh, shit,” you grumbled, “do I have time to get home?”

Jisung rummaged around in the pile of clothes on the floor to find his phone and checked to make sure. He shook his head as he found your phone as well and handed it to you. Sure enough, you didn’t hear your phone buzzing on silent as the alarm went off.

“What do I do?” You lamented.

Jisung leapt to his feet as he began pulling his clothes back on. “You can crash here,” he gladly offered. “I'll do the same thing I did the other night and sneak the truck back to your aunt’s. If the truck is there she’ll probably just assume you’re in your room anyhow.” He shrugged on his hoodie and jacket before you stopped him.

“Wait,” you laughed, “you’re a damn mess.” You spied a scarf on the coat rack by the counter and grabbed it before wrapping it around his neck to cover the bites and blood. “So,” you prodded, “I crash here and you get the truck back… Then what?”

“Then I'll take care of my usual errands and get a head start on cleaning the shop before nightfall. Besides, maybe once I get some inventory done in here I can finally figure out what all was stolen.”

“Yeah,” you nodded with a smile, “that actually sounds great. I'd really like that.”

Jisung grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders before rummaging through your coat on the floor for the keys. “I’d better hurry; I want to get back to the diner and get some coffee before the day waitress comes.” And, with that, he kissed your cheek before rushing out the backdoor.

You bundled up in the blanket, contemplating how much you wanted to get dressed again before falling asleep as the sun slowly crept through the window. Outside, the truck rattled to life and slowly sputtered down the alley, not getting enough time to warm up. The blanket smelled thick with Jisung’s scent, making that oddly affectionate tug in your gut feel stronger. The cozy space of the bookshop felt that much cozier at dawn, welcoming the warm surroundings as you sat back on the couch when you heard a clatter in the back room. You sprang to your feet, the tiredness already starting to weigh you down as you stepped closer to see what must have fallen over. That is, if whatever fell over happened to smell like veal, like mahogany and fires on the beach.

“Well, it sure smells like you've been here--” Came a voice from the back room. You stiffened, hand tight on your phone.

Chan stepped into the shop. You took two steps back.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked, eyes narrowed.

“The better question,” Chan laughed, “is who leaves the back door unlocked? I was grabbing a bite to eat and remembered you mentioned the old man and the bookstore, so I thought I'd look for you here. Sure enough, the back door is open and all I smell is you.” He circled closer, eyeing you up and down in your blanket. “And you’ve been busy, I see,” he pouted, “is that why you wouldn’t give it to me?”

“That’s none of your business,” you spat, lacking the proper strength at the moment to struggle as he grabbed onto you and pulled you close.

“Princess,” he cooed, “baby, please, just feed on me and I'll be good.”

“I'm all full, but thanks anyways,” you glared at him. He leaned back, stunned and disgusted.

“Who the fuck--”

“Hey!” Came Jisung’s voice from the front door, the bell at the front signaling an arrival. You struggled against Chan now, who just stood his ground and clamped a hand over your mouth. Sleep threatened to take hold any moment now. “You know, locking the back door might be a good idea now that there’s someon--”

Jisung froze at the end of the aisle. The two men stared each other down before Chan finally let you go. You stumbled back a step.

“The shopkeeper’s lackey?!” He laughed boisterously, “You won't give it to me all of a sudden, but you’ll give it to him?”

Chan let out another mean laugh before Jisung suddenly drove forward the few steps it took to tackle into Chan’s chest. Both men fell to the floor as you sank down onto the couch, exhausted and fading fast. Jisung had the upper hand in making the first move, pinning Chan under him and landing blow after blow on him. Chan cursed wildly and attempted to fight him off.

“You goddamn son of a bitch,” Jisung roared, “you fucking murderer!”

You sprang to your feet, desperate to help, but both men only turned to notice in time for you to collapse.

You slept.

[To be continued.]

#mystery member #oh my god what even is this what have i done #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids smut #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #bang chan #bang chan breakdown #SPOILERS AHEAD #han jisung

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tosybelle-blog · 7 years

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The Boys of Summer, Chapters XVI-XX

I’ve seen this thing before In my best friend and the boy next door Fool for love and fool of fire Blondie, Maria

Maria

Thank heaven for carpools. Without them, I’d never go anywhere in the summer.

It was a Thursday in July, and I’d seen my mother for fifteen minutes since Sunday. My dad—well, if I’m lucky, I hear from him a couple times a month and see him much less often than that. And my sisters? Sometimes, I forget they even live here. But Shannon had promised to be home in time to give me a ride for the one thing I had really been looking forward to all summer.

She sounded really guilty when she called me and said she wouldn’t make it in time to pick me up. She promised to make it up to me, which I’m sure means bribe me back into her affections later. That’s what Mother always does.

I had been suggesting and suggesting a special event for teens to the public library for two straight years. They’d finally taken my suggestion and it was tonight. And I didn’t have a ride.

I would have had no problem taking my bike down there, but the event was supposed to last until long after dark, and the headlight on my bike was out. I’d called a couple friends, hoping someone else was planning to go. Everyone was either off at camp or on vacation. It looked like I was stuck.

I was just about start a really solid pity party—put a depressing movie in the DVD player and sob for a while—when I realized that Tiffany was home. She’s always been oddly quiet. I can tell when Shannon is home, because she plays music and sings along. Mom is always on her phone in the public areas of the house. But Tiff can pretty much sneak up behind you because she’s so silent. Sure, I can get her talking if I try. But she seems to think that she’s boring me when she talks, and I sometimes feel like she’s not really listening when I talk. Especially these days.

I found her in her room. She had a pair of sewing shears and she was trimming up her bangs. “My hair’s been growing crazy fast,” she noted as I entered the room.

I plopped down on her bed, taking care not to sit on the piles of clothes that were scattered everywhere. It seemed as if every item from her closet was set on her bed. “Having trouble deciding what to wear?” I asked.

Tiffany gave one final snip with the scissors and put them down. “Ugh. I must be bloated because none of my shorts fit today.” She turned around and faced me for the first time since I came in. “Your hips are a little wider than mine. Do you think you have something that would go with this top?”

I ignored the slam on my body shape—I’m an athlete and she’s a bag of bones—and considered the question. The top she was wearing was a pale yellow and low cut. To be honest, it kind of washed her out. With her fair skin and blonde hair, there was no contrast, no pop of color. I knew that telling her that would start a fight and be the end of any actual conversation we might have, though. “I have a pair of navy board shorts that might work.”

Tiff considered that as she plucked her eyebrows. “Sounds like that might be okay. Adam’s surprising me with what we’re doing tonight, but he said to dress casually.”

My spirits sank. I was really hoping that she would be driving, because then maybe she’d be willing to drop me off at the library on her way. I didn’t feel like I knew Adam well enough to try to bum a ride out of him. I sighed and Tiff looked up from her makeup job, giving me a questioning look. I took a different direction than I had planned. “What’s it like having a boyfriend?” I asked as she rolled her eyes up to the sky and lined them.

“Hmm,” Tiffany smeared the eyeliner with her fingers. “It’s great if you’ve got a good one.”

“And I’m guessing Adam is one of the good ones?”

She just nodded before she started applying mascara. “What are you asking me for, anyway? You’re not a little girl. Why don’t you just go out and get a boyfriend of your own?”

That was a good question. “I don’t know,” I said as I joined her at the mirror, looking at the differences in our looks. Tiff is light and I’m dark. She’s skinny, and while I’m not fat, my muscles make me seem quite a bit sturdier. She’s got a couple inches on me, too. “Boys don’t really go for me. I’m not sure why.”

Tiff tipped her head to one side and eyed me sideways. “I bet you intimidate them,” she said. “You have a strong personality. That’s not a bad thing, but it can scare guys sometimes.”

That’s true. I laughed a little bit. “Or maybe the guys I hang out with are just wusses.”

Tiffany hopped up onto her vanity, inspecting her chin. She smeared concealer on a non-existent blemish. “Nerds and game geeks,” she said with an almost imperceptible smile, “I’ve never understood why you always hang out with those guys instead of the jocks.”

The doorbell rang and Tiff eased herself back down from the vanity. “Can you let Adam in? I’m going to see if those board shorts fit.”

I trudged down the stairs, not looking forward to small talk. Shannon’s boyfriend, who is also named Adam—talk about confusing—always calls me Kid and then pretends I don’t exist. He’s kind of an ass and I have no idea what Shannon sees in him.

I opened the door and Adam smiled. “Hi, Maria,” he said as he came in. “Is Tiff ready yet?” I shook my head, suddenly feeling shy. “Still getting dressed? I’m not surprised.”

We went into the living room and I was just about to go check on Tiff when he started talking. “How’s your summer been?” he asked as he sat down on the couch. I shrugged, looking at the floor. I sat down on the arm of the chair by the door, ready to bolt as soon as possible. “What are your plans for the evening?”

I hitched one leg over the other and jiggled the bare foot. “Nothing much. I was supposed to go somewhere, but that fell through.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, eyeing me critically. He watched my foot move for a moment. I got uncomfortable and stopped it. “One of these nights, I think you should hang out with me and Tiff. You got a boyfriend? We could double date.”

I was still shaking my head when Tiffany started downstairs. I guess my hips must not be that wide because my shorts fit her perfectly. She’d changed tops, too—she was wearing a white shirt of mine. I scowled for a moment when I saw that.

Tiff entered the room and Adam stood up. “You look great. Is that a new outfit?” She just kissed him in reply and smiled. “We’d better get going. I have my dad’s car for the night, and the only way I could get him to loan it to me is by agreeing to drop Nick off at the library on the way. He’s sitting in the car now.”

I jumped off the chair arm as they walked by me. “Wait, you’re going to the library?” Adam looked at me, puzzled. “Can I hitch a ride with you?”

He looked at Tiff and she shrugged. “Of course. How fast can you be ready?”

“Is thirty seconds fast enough?” My purse and flip flops were right inside the door, and I didn’t need anything else.

Adam’s dad’s SUV was parked at the bottom of the driveway. I practically skipped down to the car. There was a boy in the backseat behind the driver’s seat, so I headed to the other side of the car, behind the passenger’s seat.

A couple boys rode by on skateboards. “Hey, Maria! Tiffany! How’s it going?” the shorter one called.

Tiffany made a half-wave back. “Hey, Bill! You know my boyfriend, Adam Pike?” Adam smiled as he opened the car door for Tiff.

Bill grinned in greeting and fell off his skateboard, landing on his butt. I snorted at him. The other boy rolled his eyes but turned back to us. “Pike? You’re Vanessa’s brother, aren’t you?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just rolled off. Bill gathered himself up and popped back on his skateboard, zooming off after his friend.

Adam watched the two of them go and then shook his head. “I wonder if that was Vanessa’s mystery man,” he pondered. Tiff gave him a look. “Never mind. You really don’t want to know.”

Adam’s brother didn’t look up when I got in the car. He was reading a novel that pointed the other way, so I couldn’t see the title, but I could tell from the back cover that it was a science fiction story. “Whatcha reading?” I asked, hoping to strike up a conversation.

He mumbled something and pulled the book closer to his nose. Adam got into the driver’s seat. “Maria, this is my brother, Nick. Nick, this is Maria.”

Nick pulled the book back and looked over at me. He looked a lot like Adam, but he was taller and lankier. He wore a pair of thick glasses that he peered over the top of. I could see that he had incredibly long eyelashes. He gave a brief smile before he pulled the book back to his face. And when he smiled, he was just about the cutest guy I’d ever seen. “Hi, Nick,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound too eager—and probably failing epically.

Adam suddenly turned into a dad. “Nick, a pretty girl is talking to you,” he said sternly. “The least you could do is say hi.”

Nick blushed crimson and pulled his face even further in to the book, probably trying to hide it. I didn’t blame him; I felt my face turn red also. He whispered hello straight into the book, so quietly I barely heard him.

Tiff mumbled something to Adam and he laughed. “So, what takes you to the library tonight?” he asked, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

I scuffed my flip flop along the floor of the car. “They’re finally having a Doctor Who marathon,” I said, more into my chest than to the front seat of the car.

Nick finally put his book down. “You like Doctor Who?” he said clearly, looking at me sideways. He clearly didn’t believe me, but I wasn’t sure if he was making fun of me or couldn’t believe his luck. I nodded at him.

Tiffany smiled indulgently. “Ahh, another member of the Nerd Brigade,” she said, flipping her sunglasses up to the top of her head. “You and Maria should get along just fine.” She winked at me.

After that, Adam and Tiff seemed to forget there was anyone in the backseat. Tiff was trying to get Adam to reveal their ‘secret’ plans for the evening. Adam seemed to enjoy teasing her. After Tiff called him a nerd, Nick had picked his book back up and retreated into his own little world. I amused myself for the rest of the car ride by rating the Adams in my life. Tiff’s Adam was beating Shannon’s Adam by a whole bunch of points by the time we arrived at the library.

Adam dropped us off in front. “We’ll be back to pick you up a little after ten. If the library closes before then, maybe you guys can get coffee or pizza or something. But we’ll pick you back up right here.”

As he put the car back into gear, I heard Tiff yell out the passenger window, “Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do!” The two of them laughed as Adam drove away.

Nick and I stood on the library’s stoop and looked at each other briefly. Nick looked lost as he clutched the book—a Star Trek novel. “What do we do now?” he asked, going back to gazing everywhere but at me.

I sucked in a breath. Was he kidding? We were here to watch Doctor Who. “I guess we go inside and find seats. Are you meeting someone here?” He glanced at me blankly. “I mean, are you meeting some friends?”

He shook his head and I did a little jig inside. Nick might be hard to talk to and completely clueless, but it wasn’t every day I met a guy who liked Doctor Who as much as I did.

There were actually already quite a few people inside the library, and not all of them were teenagers. Nick and I found a couple seats right near the middle of the makeshift theater. He put his book down in his lap and took in all the sights and sounds for a moment. I decided that, even though I hate it, it was time for small talk. “Which Doctor is your favorite?” I asked.

He looked around for a moment, like he thought I was talking to someone else. When he was sure I was looking at him, he finally answered. “Tom Baker,” he said quietly.

“The fourth Doctor! Me, too. Did you hear that the show is coming back? I don’t know if it’s just a rumor, but…” I was off and running. Nick actually turned and followed the conversation as I babbled on and on about the alleged reincarnation of the series. I only stopped because the lights got dimmed, getting ready for the airing.

***

The library was scheduled to close at nine, and the seventh episode ended shortly after nine. None of us had wanted to leave, but the librarian running the event ushered us all out the door, promising to hold another soon. Nick and I soon found ourselves standing out front of the library again. “What are we going to do for an hour?” I asked aloud, more to myself than to him.

To my surprise, Nick replied. “Ice cream?” he said.

It was a hot night, so that wasn’t a bad idea. We walked a block or so before ducking into one of those chain ice cream places. One of the employees was ringing someone up, but the other greeted us. “Hello, what can I start for you today?” After a moment, she actually looked at us and her expression changed: first she looked surprised, and then annoyed. “Nick, what are you doing here?” she asked, irritated.

I did a double take. The girl was close to our age and she had the same chestnut brown hair Nick and his brothers did, pulled back into a ponytail. She also had…colorful… makeup and a nose ring. Nick sized her up and I realized he didn’t seem nearly as awkward with her as he did when he was talking with me. I knew she had to be a relative. “Getting some ice cream. You have a problem with that?”

She stepped to one side and was ready to toss a choice insult at him—a sister can always tell—when I saw her name tag. “Oh, so you’re Vanessa!” I cried.

I think Vanessa had forgotten I was even there. She turned back to me, surprised. “How do you know who I am?” she asked.

I shrank back under the glare. “Umm…Adam mentioned you earlier today.”

She was still glaring. “And who are you anyway?” she asked.

I took a deep breath, vowing not to look as scared as I was feeling. “Maria Kilbourne.”

“Ah, Tiff’s sister,” she smirked. “What are you doing letting my little brother corrupt you?”

I gave her a withering look. “What are you talking about? We just spent the last three hours watching TV and now we’re thinking about sharing a banana split. Ooh, calories. Scandalous.”

Vanessa laughed. “I like you,” she said, waving her ice cream scoop at me. She turned to her coworker. “Hey, Curtis, put my employee discount on this one. This is my kid brother.”

I hadn’t actually planned on having a banana split or sharing anything with Nick, but Vanessa piled all the toppings ridiculously high on a banana split before she handed it to Nick. We picked up two spoons and went to pay, but Curtis stopped us. “Employee discount. It’s free.”

Nick hadn’t said a word since he’d spoken to Vanessa. We got outside and sat side by side on—not at—one of the metal tables. “How does this work, logistically?” he asked, still holding the ice cream in his lap.

I shook my head. “I don’t know,” I said, eyeing the mound of whip cream covering all the toppings. “I have no idea why I said we’d split something.”

Nick chuckled. “Split something. I get it.” I groaned. I hadn’t made the pun on purpose. I was just about to say so when Nick spoke again. “I know why you said it. You wanted to stick it to Vanessa.” He took one spoon and dug it into the ice cream. “I like it.”

For the first time since he’d smiled at me in the car, he met my eye. I grinned. “I got two big sisters,” I said, “I know exactly what to say to drive ‘em round the bend.”

Nick handed me the second spoon. He scooted over a little and set the ice cream down between us. I took a big bite and he did the same. We were quiet for a moment. “What do you do,” I finally asked him, “you know, for fun?”

He took the spoon out of his mouth. “I read a lot and play some video games,” he said slowly. “And on Wednesdays, I play D and D.”

He had my attention. “You play Dungeons and Dragons?” I exclaimed. “I’ve always wanted to play but never knew anyone with a game.” He raised an eyebrow. I barreled ahead, waving my spoon around as I talked. “Do you think I could come and watch one time? Or maybe even play?”

Nick wasn’t looking at my face; he was staring at my chest. I felt myself blushing for about the hundredth time that night. He noticed and turned away. “You just spilled chocolate sauce all down your front,” he informed me.

“Oh, shit!” I furiously wiped at the sauce with my napkin but just smeared it. Nick ran inside and returned with a cup of water. I dipped the napkin in the water and managed to lighten a few parts of the stain.

After we settled back down, Nick finally answered my question. “I don’t see any reason you can’t go to D and D with me, but I’ll have to check with the guys.”

I grinned and dug in my purse. I pulled out a pen and a scrap of paper and wrote my name and number on it. “Here’s my cell phone number. Call me when you find out, okay?”

Nick put the paper in his pocket and took another spoonful of ice cream. He smiled again and I just felt so hopeful. Maybe he wasn’t really ready for a girlfriend or anything, but at the very least, I’d found a friend…and a D and D game.

All in all, it had been a great night.

Tiffany

As Adam drove away from the library after dropping Nick and Maria off, he turned to me. “I hope they’re going to be okay,” he commented idly.

I gave him a look. “What do you mean? Nick wouldn’t do…anything…would he?”

Adam chuckled. “Naw. I don’t even think Nick would know what to do with a girl if he actually got ahold of one.” I raised an eyebrow. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s not like Byron or anything. I think he’s just a little clueless.” He put on his blinker and made a right turn. “All I meant was, I tried to have a conversation with Maria and it was like pulling teeth. And trying to talk to Nick is even harder.”

I smirked at him. “All you need to do to get Maria talking is mention something nerdy. She and Nick will be fine.”

We made another turn and I tried desperately to figure out where we were headed. “Are you ever going to tell me where we’re going?”

He shook his head. “You’ll find out when we get there.” I pouted a little and he grinned. “I’ll give you a hint. We’ll be putting something in little cups.”

I tried to puzzle that out. “Oh, we’re doing shots?” I joked after failing to figure out what he really meant. He laughed.

After a few more turns—I think he was trying to throw me off the scent—we arrived at a miniature golf course. “Mini golf?” I asked, surprised.

Adam opened my car door for me. “Have you ever played before? I used to play all the time when I was younger. It took me years to realize how sexy the game could be.”

“Sexy?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, and he looked up to the sky as if he were remembering. “Did I ever tell you about Kelsey Andrews? I taught her how to play one time in Sea City. Every hole, I helped her ‘perfect her swing.’ You can imagine how that works.”

I could imagine it all too well. “Should I be jealous?” I teased.

Adam took me seriously. “Considering I was twelve and I haven’t seen her since, probably not.” He grabbed me and gave me a kiss.

I was surprised to find out how much fun mini golf could be. Especially when Adam was standing behind me, leaned against me, guiding all of my motions. Adam was doing impressively well in his game, clearing all the holes in one or two shots. I was taking the full six shots at every hole—and not just because I’d never played before.

Even though we were having a good time, by the time we got to the eleventh hole, I was beat. “Can we stop now?” I asked, leaning against his back as he wrote on the score card.

“Stop?” Adam asked, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He glanced down at the score card. “Is this because you’re at 66 and I’m at…” he paused as he did some quick math, “seventeen?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m just tired. And hungry.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and nestled my face right into the nape of his neck.

He reached a hand over his shoulder and stroked my hair. “Everything okay, Babe?” he asked.

I kissed his neck before I let him go. “Like I said, I’m just hungry.”

He turned around. “How do you stay so skinny,” he teased, “when all you do is eat?”

I grimaced a little. “Good metabolism? I dunno.” He ran his hands over my hips. “Anyway, I don’t eat that much.”

Adam laughed. “Yesterday, at the movies, you ate, let’s see…a big tub of popcorn. You ate the whole thing; I didn’t even have one piece. Oh, and you had the world’s biggest box of Raisinets.” He wrapped his arms around me. “And I think you ate half of my Milk Duds, too.”

That’s not the way I remembered it. “Whatever. All I know right now is, in a fight between a golf ball and a big, juicy burger, the burger wins.”

“I know when I’m beat. You like the burgers at the Rosebud? I normally wouldn’t suggest it because Jordan’s working tonight, but I think they have the best burgers in town.”

***

The Rosebud is one of those places that’s always busy, but I understand why. The food is decent and reasonably priced, so it’s popular both with young people and old people. Jordan wasn’t the first person we saw when we walked in the door, but we did see him before we got seated. He practically ran by us with a whole pan full of dirty dishes, but he nodded an acknowledgment as he did.

We were seated over by a window, next to a group of teenaged boys who were—loudly— discussing video games. Adam had his back to them, but he perked up for a moment and listened. “Do you and your brothers play video games?” I asked.

He looked like he was thinking about that for a moment. “We used to play a lot of Mario when we were kids,” he said. “Now, Jordan and I’ll play the occasional shoot ‘em up if we have time. Nick plays a lot of RPG—role play games. I think it’s his excuse to escape from the family without leaving the house.”

I nodded. I could certainly relate to the idea of not fitting in with your family. “I’m trying to remember what Nick was like when we used to go out before. I don’t remember him being that…quiet.”

Adam grimaced. “He seems to get worse every year. Byron says that the kids in our family all stretch a little bit to find an identity. Sometimes he sounds like a textbook, but I think he’s right this time.” The waitress came and took our drink order and he picked right back up. “Vanessa goes through weird phases trying to stand out. She used to speak all in rhyme, and then she went through this Goth stage. I think she’s coming out of that now, so who knows what she’ll do next. Nick…well, we were pretty shitty to him when we were kids. Real asshats.”

I cocked my head. “Really? Big brothers being jerks to a little brother? I’ve never heard of anything like that before.”

He rolled his eyes. “I know, right? For a while he just tried to be extra macho, so we would let him play with us. He and Byron got closer for a while when they started sharing a room, and when Byron started getting all weird himself. I know now that he was struggling with defining himself. He couldn’t even out himself to himself, know what I mean?” I giggled a little bit despite the serious nature of the statement. Adam gave a half smile. “But then Nick started losing all his friends. Two of them moved away about three months apart— one just a couple towns over but they lost touch with each other pretty quickly—and the other to live with his dad in Texas or Arkansas or something like that.” Our drinks arrived and he took a big sip. “He used to also be pretty close with Matt, Haley’s brother. Remember, he was the one at the pizza place?”

I know I blushed. That had not been a good night for me and Adam. It was my first time seeing Byron and Jordan in years, and I was meeting Jeff and Haley for the first time, and I’d wanted to make a good impression on all of them. Maybe Adam’s friends could be my friends too that way. But it hadn’t really worked out. I’d talked too much because I was so nervous and apparently, I’d insulted about half the table. I’d even said something about Matt, even though I didn’t know he existed. Even though Jeff and Byron and even Jordan hadn’t minded too much, Haley had gotten really worked up over an off-hand comment I’d made. How was I supposed to know she’d been raped at some point? Despite that, I really regret ever saying anything. I know that ever since then, Adam has carefully planned to make sure that we spend less time with Haley and Jordan. I know this bugs him, because he’s told me that he and Jordan used to double date all the time.

Adam was still talking about Nick and Matt. I picked up the menu and studied it, nodding to indicate I was still listening. “But Matt goes to a special school in Stamford where all the kids are deaf. And as he got older, he started hanging out less and less with hearing kids. I guess the deaf kids just understand each other better—and I don’t just mean that Nick wasn’t completely fluent in sign.”

Adam also picked up his menu and the two of us looked it over. “Which burger are you thinking, Babe?” I asked, looking from picture to picture. I was just about drooling.

“For me or for you?”

“For you. I’m going to have whatever you’re having.” I was hoping he was in the mood for a bacon cheeseburger.

It was like he read my mind. “I was thinking about a deluxe bacon cheeseburger, but if that’s what you’re wanting, I think you should go for the supreme. It’s smaller.”

I shook my head. “No, I’m going to have the deluxe. I’m extra hungry tonight.” As if to prove the point, my stomach rumbled.

“Okay, then, suit yourself.”

The waitress took our order and menus, leaving me with nothing to play with. “So you think Nick is so odd because he has no friends?”

Adam contemplated that. “No, he does have some friends. He just chooses to mostly hang out with people who aren’t really known for their social skills. In addition to being big into games, a lot of them are stoners. One night, some of them came over and they were so high they sounded like Beavis and Butt-head.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And you’re sure Maria will be alright with him?”

He leaned in close. “Yeah. He’s sober tonight. After Claire told the whole party about his habit on the holiday, Mal rode his butt about it for a while. He promised that he doesn’t do it in the house or anything. I don’t know if he’s telling the truth, but he didn’t have that glazed look to his eyes today like he sometimes does.”

We fell out of talking about his family after that for a while. Adam had given me a small indoor garden—six potted plants—and he wanted to know how my ‘babies’ were doing. I was explaining how one of the plants had had to be moved to another room where it got less sunlight when our food came. Despite how hungry I’d been when I’d ordered, I looked at the big, greasy burger and this wave of nausea swept over me. There were mushrooms on the burger—I hadn’t realized that. I couldn’t see them, but I could smell them.

Adam dove straight into his burger and didn’t notice that I wasn’t eagerly eating. I pulled the top bun off my sandwich and fished around with my fork for the mushrooms. Once they were gone, I put the burger back together and cut it apart. I picked at a few French fries before I managed to face the burger. I ate two bites and then I knew I was done. I went back to playing with my fries.

Adam continued to chow down for a few more minutes before he slowed down. By that time, I’d shifted all the French fries from one side of my plate to the other. “What’s the rest of your family doing tonight?” I asked him, desperate for any type of non-food distraction.

As I’ve seen him do a number of times when referring to his whole family, Adam ticked off on his fingers as he spoke. “Vanessa is working. Margo went to cheerleading camp for the week with her ‘BFF’ Karen.” He made the finger quotes dramatically and a little mockingly. “And Byron volunteered to take Claire out for the evening. Anything for brownie points with the parents, especially after what happened on the Fourth.” I nodded; I’d heard all about that. Adam had told that story almost like he didn’t believe it. “I’m pretty sure Haley went with the two of them.”

Well. There Haley was again. I sighed and put my elbows on the table on either side of my plate. “Oh,” I said, not knowing what else to say. Adam looked up questioningly. ‘Oh’ is one of those words that can mean just about anything, depending on context and tone. I guess Adam couldn’t decode my ‘oh.’ “She spends a lot of time with Byron?”

“Well, yeah. She is his best friend. Before he started dating Jeff and she started dating Jordan—pretty much the same day—they basically spent all their time together. Before I knew he was gay, I thought he was getting really lucky, if you know what I mean.” He chuckled but stopped as he got a good look at my face. “What’s bugging you now?”

I ran one finger around the rim of my plate. “So me not getting along with Haley means that I’m on the outs with both Jordan and Byron.”

He looked at me like I was nuts. “Uh, no. You had a nice chat with the two of them at the party, didn’t you? They don’t hold grudges.” He paused and made a face. “Well, actually, they do. But not over this.”

I pursed my lips. “I just wish there was something I could do,” I commented.

“I told you before. You’re already doing it. Let Haley make the next move, and then once you’ve got her listening to you, tell her you’re sorry. Until then, you’re just going to have to wait her out.” Adam sighed. “Look, can we find something else to talk about? Anything. I don’t even care what.”

I furrowed my brow. “I thought you’d want to try to help me on this,” I pouted.

He looked torn a little. “I’d help you with just about anything. But I’m so sick of this conversation. I feel like we’ve had it too many times before, and you’ve heard my opinion on the matter.” He put one hand on his forehead and rubbed like he had a tension headache. “Besides, think about this for a moment. For years, Vanessa was always, ‘Haley this,’ and ‘Haley that.’ Then she became the only thing Byron ever talked about. And then Jordan. Now, every third conversation we’ve had has been about Haley.” He looked me dead on in the eye and his expression and voice softened. “I’m not blaming you, Tiff,” he said softly. “I think it’s great you want to get along with her, for my sake. You didn’t do anything so horrible that she needed to behave like she did.” He blew out another breath and said his final piece on it. “I feel like she’s ruining my life just a little bit.”

Well. That was pretty melodramatic. Adam took my hand across the table. I didn’t say a word, just looked down at our hands. His fingers are surprisingly delicate for a guy’s, long and lean. He was rubbing his thumb over my purple-painted thumb nail over and over again. I was fighting back tears a little. I feel like that’s been happening way more over the past few months than normal.

When I didn’t respond to that he reached across the table and stole a French fry off my plate. He took in the mostly-uneaten burger. “I thought you said you were starving.”

I couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not. “Those things are massive! I should have ordered a smaller one.”

Adam smirked. “Told you so.”

I shook my head. “I should just always just listen to you. You are always right.”

He leaned back in the chair and laughed heartily. “Music to my ears.”

***

Because we hadn’t finished our whole game of mini golf, we were done with his plans way early. The sun was just starting to set, so Adam drove the car to a park. We sat down on a swing set and watched the sun go down together, swinging higher and higher. We took turns pushing each other and then finally sat down side by side, holding hands as the sun finally dipped from sight.

We picked Maria and Nick up in front of the library just before ten. Maria was telling a story, complete with overzealous hand gestures and what appeared to be sound effects. Nick was hanging on her every word, laughing hysterically as we pulled up. Adam looked over at me as we pulled up. “Well. Looks like we didn’t have to worry about the two of them after all,” he commented.

The two of them looked up when Adam honked and they zoomed over to the car. Nick was still chuckling a little as he got in on the passenger’s side. Maria was holding Nick’s book and there was a large brown stain down her front. “What’s on your shirt?” I asked her.

She looked over at Nick and he started laughing anew. “It’s blood,” she said conspiratorially, leaning forward as if she were letting me in on a secret.

I studied the spot as she steadied herself by leaning her arm on the armrest between the two front seats. “It looks more like chocolate sauce,” I observed.

Nick spoke out. “Blood, chocolate sauce, what’s the difference?” Maria started giggling uncontrollably, but only she and Nick understood why exactly that was funny.

Adam rolled his eyes. “Oh, no you two don’t,” he said, “No inside jokes in the car. Do you want me and Tiffany to start whipping out our pet names for each other? No. It’s sickening. Cut it out.”

Maria sat back in her seat and did up her seat belt. I leaned over onto the armrest she had just vacated. “What pet names?” I whispered.

He glanced over at me briefly before he turned his eyes back to the road. “Didn’t I tell you we have pet names?” he asked in a muffled tone.

“Nope. That’s news to me.”

“Huh.”

We got back to our house very quickly. Maria handed Nick back his book and said, “Remember, find out and call me!” Nick waved at her and nodded as she skipped back to the house.

I gave Adam a quick kiss across the front seat while Nick was still watching Maria. “Call me, too,” I said, giving him a knowing look.

Adam chuckled and shook his head. “I will. Night, Tiff.”

I was beat. I moved up the driveway a lot more slowly than Maria had. By the time I got inside, she’d dropped her shoes and purse in their usual spot and was walking barefoot to the kitchen. When she saw me, she stopped in her tracks and turned to me. “Oh. My. God,” she said, leaning against the door frame and fanning herself with one hand. “Nick is just so cute and funny! You don’t think he has a girlfriend, do you?” She didn’t wait for an answer—I think she already knew—but went straight into babble mode. “He goes to D and D every Wednesday, you know. He’s going to ask his friends if I can come.”

This whole ‘Nick and Maria’ thing was weirding me out. Wouldn’t it be really awkward if the two of them started dating? It’d be even more incestuous than Adam thinks Jordan and Byron’s relationships are. I was glad to see Maria so happy, but this was just plain screwy. “Be careful around him,” I warned, “Adam says he’s a loner and a pot-head.”

Maria shrugged that off. “So what? No one’s perfect.” She turned back toward the kitchen. “I’m hungry. I think I’ll go make a grilled cheese.”

I watched her pad her way down the hall. “Didn’t you and Nick have something to eat earlier?”

She called over her shoulder. “Just ice cream and I need something else to go with it. Did you want one?”

My nearly empty stomach contents sloshed around and I found a funny taste in my mouth. “No thanks. I’m totally nauseous.”

Maria had disappeared into the kitchen, but she popped her head back out of the doorway, a piece of American cheese, still in the wrapper, in her hand. “You’re always nauseous,” she said, smirking. “Maybe you’re pregnant. Ha ha!” With that joke, she disappeared into the pantry to find some bread.

She might have been kidding, but her statement made my blood curdle. I tried to remember back to health class—what little of it I’d paid attention to—when they’d talked about pregnancy. Nausea and extreme tiredness were definitely on the list of symptoms. And I had to admit that Maria’d been right when she’d said I was nauseous all the time. Maybe she was right about the other part, too.

I shook my head. There wasn’t any way I could be pregnant, was there? Adam and I had only been together three times, and we’d used a condom all those times.

No, wait. I’d forgotten about the Fourth. We’d been at Adam’s house that night, and I’d left my stash of condoms back at home. Adam had been sure Jordan must have some somewhere, but he’d rifled through all his drawers and hadn’t found anything. We’d decided to just go ahead anyway. After all, I’d been on the pill since I was about Maria’s age. But I remembered now reading something about how, if you didn’t take it the same time every day, it wasn’t as effective. And if we wanted to be completely honest, I was lucky if I remembered to take it at all some days. But that was less than two weeks ago. If I’d gotten pregnant then, I wouldn’t be feeling the effects from it yet…would I?

I was even more sick to my stomach now, and for a whole different reason. I don’t even remember walking upstairs, but the next thing I knew, I was in the bathroom, the one I share with Shannon and Maria. About a year before I’d been digging through the cabinet under the sink when I’d come across a box of pregnancy tests. I remember being intrigued, knowing they must be Shannon’s. I’d never asked her about them, but a few weeks ago I’d come across them again and checked to make sure there was still only one missing. My guess is that Shannon had found herself in a similar situation to mine sometime back. Knowing that Shannon, the golden girl, the one whom my parents always held me up to when they were telling me how much I disappoint them, had stood here with that box in her hand made me feel a little bit better.

I picked the box up and slowly read the instructions on the back twice to make sure I understood them. They were pretty straight forward. Pee on stick, wait ten minutes. How was I actually supposed to survive ten minutes waiting for the answer?

I went to my room and started taking off my makeup slowly. I began rubbing my eye makeup and fought back tears. I started making promises. To God. To myself. I vowed that if the test came back negative, I’d try harder. At everything: school, friendships, family relationships. If the test came back negative, I’d take my pill on time every day and never go without a condom again. I’d make sure this never happens again.

After I changed into my pajamas, I glanced at my clock. Eight minutes. Was that enough time? I went into the bathroom and glanced over at the stick. I’d left it face down. I wanted to be totally sure, so I needed to wait the full ten minutes. I picked up my toothbrush, my hands shaking, but somehow I managed to finish brushing.

I picked up the stick and looked at it.

Not a day goes by That a man doesn’t have to choose Between what he wants What he’s afraid to lose Robert Cray, Consequences

Adam

Being a counselor at a day camp was harder work than I had expected. I’d picked the gig because I expected it to be easy. I have four younger brothers and sisters; it was supposed to be like babysitting them when they were eight and nine. Actually, it was like babysitting…multiplied by five. Most days I came home and all I wanted to do was crawl into bed. I’d never really thought about having kids before, but breaking up ridiculous fights and tying shoes for kids who should know how to tie their own and a million other petty things had made up my mind. I never, ever wanted to be a dad.

It was Friday—last day of the working week. Camp had ended at five and Mal had picked me up about five-twenty. I had her drop me off at Shane’s house; the guys were getting together there to plan this blow-out party Robby was going to have. We hadn’t invited Jordan to the planning because the party was going to be the weekend before he left for school. We’d decided to have it as a goodbye party.

I was only at Shane’s for an hour because he had a date for the evening. After a block or two, Robby and I said goodbye and I walked home alone. Even though it’s never really quiet outside, it was like silence to me. Between the ruckus that was camp and the noise that was home, the sounds of cars and the wind and even the occasional child screaming was a sanctuary.

When I got home, I found a surprise waiting for me. Tiff’s car was parked outside the house. She was leaning against it, chewing on one of her fingernails in a savage fashion. If she wasn’t careful, she was going rip open a hangnail and end up bleeding. I approached cautiously; she only bites her nails when she’s nervous about something.

She saw me coming and jumped upright, removing her hand from her mouth. “Where have you been?” she asked, her voice strained, but she didn’t wait for an answer. “I wish you had a cell phone. I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You knew I had to work today,” I began.

“I know,” she acknowledged, not sounding any less crazed, “but this is an emergency.”

I wondered briefly what counted as an emergency in her eyes. I knew it must actually be at least a little serious, because I’d never seen her leave home without makeup on before. “An emergency, huh? Why don’t you tell me what’s the matter?”

Tiff looked around. “I will, but not here. Let’s go somewhere private.” She dangled her keys from the hand she hadn’t been chewing on. I realized her hands were shaking and that’s when I actually started to get worried.

“Okay,” I said, reaching out to grab her shaking hand, “but maybe you had better let me be the one doing the driving.”

I expected her to fight with me, but she just handed me the keys. She got in the passenger’s side door and picked a paper bag off the floor, clutching it close to her chest.

I got behind the wheel and found that, much like after Byron or Jordan drives our shared car, I didn’t really have to adjust the seat or the rearview. I grimaced internally over that. I’ve heard that guys keep growing until they’re twenty one and I’m hoping to get another inch or two in that time, at least.

I drove toward the heart of town but couldn’t think of any place to go that would be private. I ended up stopping at the park and we walked to the far end, away from the playground and the people, to an area where no one hangs out. It’s overgrown and not particularly pretty. There has been an ongoing debate across town as to what should be done with the land, but nothing had been decided.

Tiff was still holding the paper bag tightly to her chest. We sat down on the rough grass, making an indentation in it. She crossed her legs and brought her spare hand to her mouth, getting ready to tear into a nail again. Three weeks of camp had made an instinct out of my next act: I reached out and pulled her hand away from her mouth. “Stop that,” I said gently. She pulled her hand back but didn’t start biting her nail again. I was getting slightly annoyed. “Are you going to tell me what’s the matter or not?”

She didn’t say a word. Instead, she just pulled the bag away from her chest and held it out. I took it in one hand, but I was still watching her closely. I’d seen her be…well, crazy…before, but I’d never seen her look like this. It was almost as if she was struggling not to burst into hysterical tears. It was a look I’d seen on Byron’s face before…and on Jeff’s, for that matter. But never on Tiff’s face.

“What’s this?” I asked, even though I didn’t think she’d answer me. Indeed, she just shook her head and pointed at the bag. As I gingerly opened the sack, not knowing what was inside, she pulled her arms around herself tightly, both literally and figuratively trying to hold herself together.

I shook the single item out of the bag and still didn’t know what it was. It was a long plastic stick with a thin tip on one end, covered in a clear plastic cover. In the middle, not too far below the cover, was a small circle. Two blue lines ran through the circle, forming a cross. It looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it. “What is it?” I asked again.

Tiff took a deep breath and tried to answer, but all the came out was a sob. I turned the plastic stick over and over again, trying to figure out what could possibly be making her this upset. I finally realized there was raised writing on the back side of the stick—white on white, so I hadn’t seen it. I turned it and held to the light at an angle so I could read the words. It said “Early Read Pregnancy Test” in clear letters.

I dropped the test on the ground and scooted away from it. I took a deep breath and then, realizing I was acting like an idiot, sat down beside Tiff and looked at the stick again, still lying where I dropped it. “Does this mean what I think it means?” I asked in a low voice.

Her breath was still ragged but she had control over it enough that she could speak, at least a little. “It’s positive,” she said quietly.

I looked at the stick again and found that my heart was pounding. It was just one little piece of plastic—but I felt like that one piece of plastic had changed my whole life in a second. “Are you sure?” I asked, knowing the answer to the question. “I’ve heard sometimes these things are wrong.”

She sniffled and, lacking a tissue—she didn’t even have her purse with her—she wiped her eyes and nose on her shirt sleeve near her shoulder. “It’s the third one I’ve taken,” she said, not meeting my eye, “and they’ve all said the same thing.”

“Wow.” I couldn’t think of what else to say. She had been avoiding my gaze ever since I’d pulled her finger away from her mouth, but now that I wasn’t looking at her, I could tell she was looking at me. “What are we going to do?” I asked, almost rhetorically.

“We?” she said, surprised.

I looked up at her sharply. “Yes, we,” I repeated, reaching out for her. She scooted closer and leaned up against me and I wrapped my arms around her the way she had wrapped her own arms around herself a short time earlier. “It takes two to tango. It takes two to argue. It takes two to make a…” I faded out.

“Baby,” she finished, and she started to sob fresh. I was just about to join her—her saying the word out loud had made a vague idea so much more real—but I managed to hold back. I’d agreed to see Tiff back in May because she sounded lost and alone. I’d thought, hey, maybe I can help her out. And her loneliness and neediness had been a factor in deciding to start dating her again. Every guy wants to be the hero to the damsel in distress, right? I see some of that in Jordan’s relationship with Haley, and I can even see it a little in why Jeff likes Byron—if you could call Byron a damsel. In any case, I didn’t think letting her see me fall to pieces was going to help anything.

“I thought,” she said as she sobbed, making the words unclear and forcing me to pay close attention so I caught everything she said, “that you’d blame this all on me.” I understood her thought process—not because she was right, but because it’s the same way she always thinks. She blames herself for how things went with Haley. I know she blames all her past breakups on her own actions. I wouldn’t be surprised if she thought that her parents splitting up was all her fault. She had what Mallory and her one college psychology class would call a persecution complex.

“Tiff, Babe…” I trailed off for a minute because I was starting to get choked up despite my promise to myself. I caught the tears and willed them not to fall. “I’m behind you, no matter what. Whatever you decide, I’ll stand by you.”

“Whatever I decide?” She looked mystified, as if I’d just suggested she needed to make a highly powerful political decision.

“Your body, your choice,” I spouted the cliché, sounding like a pamphlet they gave kids who made terrible mistakes. Kids like us. I ran one hand down her hair, which was loose, and then soothingly rubbing her back like you’d do with an upset eight year old.

She turned to look at me. “Yeah, but we’re also talking about your kid. And your future. What would you do if I said I wanted to keep the baby? Would you drop out of school? Would we move in together? Would we get married?” Tiff was off and running, looking out toward the tree line again. “And what if I said I wanted to get an abortion or give the kid up for adoption? Would you hate me? I need to know how you feel.”

I could see she meant that. But I also had the feeling that, if I were honest with her, she’d just take what I said and run with that, just so she wouldn’t have to think for herself. “I don’t have any answers for you, Babe,” I said. “I wish I did. I’ll tell you what I do know and that is this: I won’t hate you no matter what you decide. But I can’t make this decision for you. Tell me which way you think you’re leaning, and we’ll make plans together.”

She looked up at me, more hurt and confused than I’d ever seen her look before. So much for being her white knight, huh? I’d really fucked things up big time. We both took a deep breath, almost at the same time. “I don’t know either. I guess we both just need some time to think,” she said.

“Good idea,” I replied, “Maybe we should take the weekend to think and talk about this again on Monday? I don’t think we had any plans yet for tomorrow or Sunday.”

Tiffany had stopped crying, but she was still sniffling. “I was meaning to tell you,” she said, “that we actually do have plans Sunday night. Haley called me.” I raised my eyebrows, surprised. “She invited us to her house to watch a movie with her, Byron and Jeff. She said it was a ‘peace offering.’ I was so surprised that I said yes without stopping to consult with you.”

“I told you that would work itself out. And, believe it or not, so will this.”

I didn’t have to explain what I meant by this. “Yeah, but this is so much bigger than feuding with your brother’s girlfriend,” she observed.

She wasn’t going to get an argument from me on that point.

She’s got a wall around her no one can climb She lets her ladder down for those who really shine I tried to scale it, but to me she’s blind So I lit a firecracker, went off in my eye Juliana Hatfield, My Sister

Matt

I really hadn’t wanted to go to camp this year. Just like last year, my mom and dad signed me up without asking. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy camp so much as there was just so much more going on at home these days. Now that I was in high school, I had a bunch of friends who could drive—and a girlfriend. I was afraid of what would happen if I left Lydia alone for a couple weeks. After all, I know that most of the guys at Stamford School for the Deaf thought she was a real catch.

I’d had my goodbye with Lydia and the guys the night before. I was leaving first thing in the morning. Mom and Dad were out running “last minute errands.” In other words, they were shopping for all the stuff that I needed that I’d refused to cooperate with—clothes, mostly. I’d thought I was alone in the house—usually on a Saturday Haley is either at work or she’s with Byron or Jordan.

This deserves the italics for a specific reason. Ever since Haley started hanging out with Byron, she hasn’t had the time of day for me. It’s actually pretty backwards if you think about it. Before that, she spent a lot more time out of the house. And when she was home, she had a ton of friends that were always hanging around the house being girly with her. But she’d still managed to find time for us to do stuff together.

That wasn’t true anymore. I can’t think of the last time when she’d voluntarily spent more than five minutes in the same room as me when there wasn’t a dinner table between us.

I’d been packing what I could—trying to get as much of that over with—when suddenly the floor began vibrating. That could only mean one thing: Haley was home and she thought she was alone. She’d turned the volume up as high as it would go on the downstairs stereo.

I made my way downstairs to see what she was doing. She wasn’t in the living room or dining room. I finally found her in the least likely spot—the kitchen. My mom says one of these days she’s going to finally teach Haley the difference between the oven and the stove.

So it was pretty surprising to find her standing over the stove, stirring something when I entered the kitchen. I tapped her on the shoulder and she startled, flinging her spoon and causing something hot and chocolaty to splatter everywhere. She gave me an annoyed look for a moment. “Jesus, Matt,” she signed, “You scared the shit out of me.”

I shrugged. “Sorry,” I said, looking over the mess she’d made. I grabbed a sponge. “What are you making?”

“Fudge.”

“Why?”

She wiped at a splatter of fudge on her forehead, changing it from a tiny dot to huge smear. I tried not to laugh. “Jordan and I are going on a picnic and we decided to make all our own food.”

I swiped the wet sponge at a chocolate spot on the back splash and then pointed out the window. “You’re going on a picnic today? It’s supposed to rain all day.” Everything outside was gray and dreary and the humidity was about 100 percent. I was surprised it wasn’t already raining.

“I know.” Haley picked the spoon off the floor and rinsed it. “We decided to have our picnic in the living room on the floor on a blanket.”

I didn’t tell her how stupid I thought that was. Instead I asked, “What else are you making? Can I help?’

She stirred her fudge some more, frowning at the consistency, then turned back to me. “You really want to help?” she asked me.

No, not really, but it was an excuse not to pack. Plus, maybe I could actually get her talking. “Sure. What do you want me to do?”

She gestured to the collection of sandwich ingredients on the other counter. “Make some cream cheese and jelly sandwiches for me?” she asked.

I eyed the cream cheese and jelly. The problem with ASL is that you can’t talk and do stuff at the same time. Haley had been trying to stir and talk to me all at once, and she’d been doing more talking than stirring. I couldn’t really talk to her as I made the sandwiches unless I wanted there to be as much cream cheese strewn everywhere as there was fudge. With a small sigh, I nodded. “How many sandwiches do you want?”

Haley waited until I was done signing and resumed stirring, gesturing over her shoulder. “Four. No, five.”

I flew through the sandwiches and stacked them on a plate before Haley poured her fudge into a pan to cool. She poked at it with one finger. “I got this recipe from Vanessa,” she said, “We made it one time when we were little. But somehow, this doesn’t look right.” She was right; it was pasty and not smooth the way fudge batter should be. I shrugged at her. I wasn’t too surprised, to be honest. “Oh well. At least Jordan can cook. He’s making cookies and bringing some chips. I think all we’re missing is some lemonade.” She opened the freezer and pulled out a can of concentrate. “That’s something even I can’t screw up.”

She poured the lemon goop and water into a pitcher and began stirring, but I knew she could see me out of the corner of her eye. “If you know Jordan’s bringing cookies, why’d you even bother trying to make fudge?”

Haley grimaced. “I really love fudge?” she said, but the look on her face told me that that wasn’t the whole story. I shook my head at her and crossed my arms across my chest. “Okay, okay,” she said, looking irritated. “I’ve got terrible PMS and chocolate is the only cure.”

I made a disgusted face and she almost smiled. “Hey, you asked. Be glad you’re a guy and don’t have to deal with that.” She stirred the lemonade a few more times and then put it into the fridge. Haley’s tiny twitch of a smile grew a tiny bit bigger. “How much do you want to bet I didn’t get all the chunks of lemon stirred out?” she asked. I grinned back at her.

I rinsed the sponge I had used earlier and swiped at more chocolate stains spread everywhere. Haley threw all the extra ingredients into the fridge and then watched me work. I couldn’t read her expression. “Why are you doing this?” she finally asked.

“You made a mess. I’m just cleaning it up for you.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Why are you helping me?” She stared me down.

I couldn’t figure out why she was so defensive. “You have a problem with me wanting to spend time with you?”

Haley raised one eyebrow. She looked suspicious. “What’s in it for you?”

Did she seriously think I was only spending time with her to get something out of it? “The pleasure of your company? I never see you anymore.”

She didn’t seem moved. “Yeah, well, that’s because you’re always too busy for me,” she signed.

What was she talking about? I gave her my best puzzled expression. “I think you have it backwards. You’re the one who never has time for me. Ever since you started hanging out with Byron, it’s been like I don’t exist.” My family has made signs for frequently used names. Byron’s is a book made out of two letter Bs, opening and closing. Haley spends a lot less time at dinner talking about Jordan—I don’t blame her; I don’t talk to Mom and Dad about me and Lydia, either. But in any case, Jordan didn’t have a sign yet.

She turned her head to one side, looking me dead on. She looked a little sad, but like she was trying to hide it. “I know I kinda pulled away right at that time. I went a little bit nuts but it didn’t have anything to do with Byron.” I gave her a look. “You’re going to have to trust me on that, okay, Matt? But anyway, by the time I got back into my right mind, you were off with your new friends.”

I thought about that. That was the year I started seventh grade and moved from the elementary school building to the high school building. There were so many more activities there—sports and clubs. I’d joined the soccer team and met a whole bunch of interesting people. Haley was right; I could remember one day when she’d come to my room and asked me if I wanted to watch a movie with her and I’d told her that I couldn’t. And then the next weekend I’d been too busy to help her with something else. “I guess you’re right,” I admitted.

Haley sighed. “You’re right, too. There were times I definitely didn’t want to talk to you. You had such an interesting life sometimes, compared to mine. You were making friends and going to parties and coming home with hickeys,” she emphasized this by poking me in the neck. “Meanwhile, I was at home, locked in my bedroom, afraid of the world, trying to poke Byron out of the closet.”

I frowned a moment before I was able to translate that. Another problem with ASL is that it’s not set up the same as written English. Haley had literally signed that Byron was in the closet, as if someone had locked him into the kitchen pantry; it took me forever to realize she was using a euphemism. She’s fluent but sometimes she throws me for a loop like that; it’s not something a deaf person would have done. After I managed to work through that, I went back to something she’d said earlier. “What in the world do you have to be afraid of?”

She collapsed into a chair. “Everything,” she said. I gestured to her to go on, but she shook her head. “Please, don’t ask. I don’t have the energy to explain. Let’s just say that I’m scared of everything you have.”

Haley rubbed her eyes and I could see she was getting ready to cry. “What do I have that you don’t these days?” I asked. She had me totally bewildered.

She shook her head and put her hands to her temples. After a moment of avoided eye contact, she looked back at me, her mouth twisted up. She started shaking and then I realized she was laughing. “You’re right!” she announced. “I even have the fucking hickey. Want to see?” Before I could say no, she pulled her t-shirt away from her neck and bared her breastbone, where she did indeed have a small hickey. I shook my head at her, pretending I was so disappointed. She stood up from her chair and gave me a hug. “I love you, little brother,” she said. “Thanks for reminding me that I’m not a total failure at life.”

Despite the fact that she was no longer upset, she’d squeezed out a couple of tears. I pointed to her face. “What’s with the crying?” I asked.

Haley wiped the tears out of her eyes. “I told you. PMS. The only upside to it is that you can use it as an excuse for everything.” She turned away from me for a minute and looked at the clock on the stove. “Jordan’s going to be here in about twenty minutes. Did you want to join us for our picnic?”

I turned my head to the side for a moment. “You’re really going to have an indoor picnic? I assumed when you said that that it was just an excuse to have sex on the living room floor.”

She reached out and smacked me playfully. “Matt! Ew!”

I ignored the whack to the arm. “Why not? I’d do it.”

It was her turn to ignore me. “So do you want to join us or not? I’ll teach Jordan a few signs so you won’t be left out of the conversation.” Something was distracting her and she was talking without paying attention. “He’s really good with his hands.” Something must have changed on the music she was listening to, because Haley started bouncing her head in rhythm and she looked like she was whistling.

I waited her out. “If Jordan’s that ‘good with his hands’ then I don’t think I want him around my big sister.”

Haley ignored me again. She started singing along with the music this time. A short time later she quit and looked at me expectantly. “I’ll come to your picnic if you do me one favor.”

I had her full attention now. “I’d say, ‘Sure, anything,’ but you’ve been scaring me slightly today. What’s your demand?”

“Make Jordan a sign so I don’t have to keep spelling his name.”

She smiled. “That’s easy.” She made fists and stuck out her pinkies. She drew a heart shape on her chest with them. She’d literally said that Jordan was a heart—and I knew she meant her heart. I made a gagging face and she wrinkled her nose. “Hey, if you wanted something less mushy, you should have been more specific.”

I opened the door to the fridge. “If I’m going to eat with you, we’re going to need more sandwiches.” Haley was once again ignoring me, but this time it was because she wasn’t paying attention rather than because I was being dirty. She was singing again. I stopped and watched her. After a while she noticed me staring and became self-conscious. Not only did she stop singing, but she closed herself off, holding her body away from me. I smiled at her. “I really wish I could hear you. Everyone says you have a beautiful voice.”

Haley didn’t change her posture. She did sigh. “Just my luck, huh? I only have one talent in life and I can’t share it with you.”

I pulled the sandwich fixings out of the fridge again. “I’m sure you have lots of talents, Haley. Maybe you just haven’t found them yet.”

She bit her lip and shook her head. Rather than responding to my point, she changed the subject. “Do you like football?” she asked.

I tried to follow her thought process and failed. “Yes, but why?”

“I was always trying to get Byron to go to football games with me. And while he never minded watching it on television, I could never get him to go out to the school to watch one in person. I’m bound and determined to go to every home game this year. You wanna be my football buddy?”

I nodded and was going to answer that when the lights flashed. Haley’s face lit up and she smiled in a way I hadn’t seen her smile in a very long time. “He’s early,” she signed.

I watched her walk out of the room. I wondered what happened to the Haley I remembered—the one she had been for a fleeting second just now. I guess it didn’t really matter. What mattered was that I was going to get a chance to know the Haley she’d become…and I was going to start as soon as I got back from camp.

If there is a load You have to bear that you can’t carry I’m right up the road, I’ll share your load If you just call me Bill Withers, Lean on Me

Byron

I was all alone in my bedroom for the first time in a while. I hadn’t been spending much time there unless I was sleeping, partly because Nick had always been holed up inside… unless he was downstairs playing video games. But today he’d begged my mom to take him out. She’s been trying to get him to get a haircut and some new clothes, and he actually took her up on the offer. I’d heard a small part of the conversation, including the words “Maria” and “impress.” I’d shaken my head and moved on, having a hard time believing my ears.

I’d realized I had less than a month until I left for Duke and I’d had a minor panic attack about that. Mom was trying to find a day when Jordan, Adam and I could all head down to Kitchen & Bath together. They had a service where you pick out everything you need for college and they deliver it to the store near your school. Mom was hoping to deal with all three of us in one fell swoop. I had a feeling she was overestimating how easy this would be.

It made me wish I had someone to talk to at that minute. Hay had invited everyone over to watch Clerks—one of her favorite movies which she had insisted Jeff and I had to see— but Jordan was scheduled to work. He’d joined her for the afternoon before he had to go to the Rosebud and had forbidden the rest of us from arriving until after he left. I knew her parents had taken Matt off to camp and would be gone all day. I shuddered to think about what Jordan and Hay were doing all alone in her house.

And then there was Jeff. Ever since we’d gotten in trouble, he’d been shying away from me. I ached inside over it. We’d gotten so close—both physically and, I thought, emotionally—and I could only guess what he was thinking now. At first he’d been grounded, but his stepdad had set him free almost a week ago. He hadn’t called me in all that time, and when I’d called him, he’d found an excuse to get off the phone as quickly as possible.

At first I thought that maybe he was mad at me. I mean, I did fall asleep in his bed and cause this whole mess, right? But then I’d stopped being self-centered and taken a step back. Everyone at work was talking about him. Shari in bedding mentioned that he never smiled any more. Joanie—one of Hay’s “favorite” coworkers—commented that Jeff was sullen and unpleasant, but then again, Joanie never had anything nice to say about anyone. Even “Lissa the insane” came out of her own little world and asked if something was the matter with him.

I was in a brooding, introspective kind of mood and I needed someone to bounce it all off—my fears about school, my worries about Jeff, even my concerns about Hay and Jordan. I wondered if Adam was home. He’s always a good listener, and his advice is usually at least 51 percent accurate.

I was just about to head down the hall to Adam and Jordan’s room when someone knocked on my door. “It’s open,” I called half-heartedly. I fully expected it to be someone who wanted me to drive them somewhere—I get that a lot—but I was a little surprised.

Adam peeked his head through the door. He looked absolutely wretched, like he hadn’t slept in a couple days. “You got a few minutes?” he asked. His hair was sticking out at all angles like he hadn’t combed it, and that’s how I knew that, whatever his problem was, it was serious. Adam’s one of those guys who can’t be “seen” if he’s not properly groomed.

I gave him my most serious look. “For you? Always. Come on in and have a seat.” I had been pacing, but I took a seat in my desk chair. Adam came all the way in the door and closed it behind him.

He looked around the room before he chose Nick’s bed as a seat. “Why is this room so neat? You trying to make the rest of us look bad?”

I shrugged. “I’ve been hiding in here being angsty all morning. When I angst, I clean.”

Adam looked tense. “What do you have to be angsting about anyway?” he asked.

I shrugged again. “Nothing I can’t handle in time. You, on the other hand, look like death warmed over. Want to tell me about it?”

He flopped down on the bed, spreading himself all across Nick’s bedding. I might have cleaned the room, but I didn’t change the sheets on that bed. If it were me, I wouldn’t have wanted to touch those sheets, but it definitely wasn’t the right time to mention that. Adam popped one hand over his eyes and lay there for a moment, not answering. “I’m not sure you can relate,” he said finally, “but then again, I don’t think I know anyone who can really relate to this.”

“Try me.” He didn’t move, and even though he still had his eyes covered, I could read his expression clearly. He didn’t want to say it out loud. I think I must have looked the exact same way when I managed to come out to him in the spring. I leaned forward in my seat. “Adam, spit it out. Trust me. Whatever it is, it’s easier once you say it.”

He sighed and spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. “Tiff’s pregnant.”

I sat back hard in my seat. “You’re right,” I said, even though I was not sure I’d heard him right. “That’s not something I can really relate to. I’m pretty sure that I’m about the last person who would ever have that problem.”

Despite his severe discomfort, he snorted. “Right,” he agreed. He sat up a little bit and finally moved his hand off his eyes. He looked at me for the first time since he’d come in the room and I could tell why he’d covered his eyes—they were red and he looked ready to cry.

I couldn’t think of the last time I’d seen Adam cry. I want to say it was when he’d broken his leg when we were—was it twelve or thirteen? I was the one prone to sobbing out of the three of us, by far, but Jordan was known to occasionally tear up when he was especially upset about something. I don’t know if Adam just bought more into that macho bull crap society sells, or if he was just more even keeled than Jordan and I were. Or if he just wanted everyone to think he was.

In any case, it was definitely my turn to play even keeled. Adam looked completely miserable, and my getting worked up definitely wasn’t going to help him. “Pregnant,” I repeated. He winced. “Are you sure?”

He looked away, his forehead crumpled. “She took three tests,” he announced to the wall.

I looked up at the ceiling. Adam wasn’t making eye contact, so I figured it didn’t matter where I threw my gaze. “What did Tiff say about…this?” I asked.

Adam lay back down. “Not much,” he admitted. “She was really too upset to get too many words out.”

“Did she manage to tell you how she’s leaning? Does she want to keep the baby?”

I heard a muffled sound and I looked back at him for just a second, just to confirm he was actually crying. Then, out of respect for him, I looked away again. I turned completely away and found myself staring at the photo of me and Jeff on my nightstand. That wasn’t helping—seeing Jeff smiling, my arms around him.

It was only a short time before Adam cried himself out and sat back up. He wiped his eyes and then went on as if he’d never shed a tear. “I just don’t know, man,” he said, “I just don’t know what I’m gonna do.” I turned back to him, listening intently. “And I don’t think Tiffany knows what she wants to do, either. I really think she wanted me to tell her what to do.”

He was quiet for a moment, so I spoke. “What did you say to her when she told you that?”

Adam gathered his knees up in front of him. “I told her that it was her choice, but when she decided what she wanted to do, I’d be there for her one hundred percent—we’d make plans and do it, whatever ‘it’ was, together.” He put his head down on his knees and spoke into them, muffled. “She’s taking the weekend to make up her mind.”

“Sounds like you said all the right things,” I noted. He mumbled something into his knees. “Tell me something, Adam,” I continued. He looked up. “If you didn’t have to consider anything else—Tiff’s feelings or school or Mom and Dad or anything else—what you want right now? What would you decide to do if you were the one who just found out you were pregnant?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, trying to decide what he wanted and then whether I was up to hearing it. “I’m not ready to be a dad,” he said miserably. “I’m not sure I ever want to have kids, ya know? It comes from being raised as—how did you say it?—oh yeah, as part of a herd.” He sighed. “Anyway, I just don’t know about me and Tiff.”

“What do you mean?”

He jumped up off the bed and started pacing the room. “Jordan told me he loves Haley. Did you know that?”

“Yeah. Well, actually Hay told me that she loves him, but I’m pretty sure he said it first.” I watched him making the same circuit I had been making not ten minutes ago.

He stopped for a moment and watched me. “And what about you and Jeff?” I looked at him blankly, not sure what he meant. “I see how you look at him. I know you—you may not have said it to him, but I know you feel it.” I shook my head, not really disagreeing but not really agreeing either. Adam sagged for a moment and then resumed pacing, tenser than ever. “I didn’t start a relationship with Tiff for…that. I was just looking to have some fun.”

I smiled very briefly, remembering Jeff removing my clothes carefully but quickly that night—eager but also sensitive. “Well, I can definitely understand that,” I said.

Adam eyed me sharply. “Sex fucks everything up,” he observed. “Hang on to your virginity, dude. That is assuming you still have it…?”

I didn’t answer that directly. “You don’t have to worry about me,” I said, deflecting the attention back to the real issue. “Why does how serious your relationship with Tiff is matter?”

He sat back down again, on my bed this time. I had to turn around in my seat so I could even see him. “When we were talking,” he began, once again hunched over his knees, “she asked me some questions about what would happen if she kept the baby. She made it sound like she wanted to keep the kid…and she wanted us to get married. I don’t think I could do that, no matter what happens.”

I took a moment to bury my own head in my hands and took a deep breath before I looked back at him. “Well, if she decides she wants to keep the baby, then you’ll just have to sit down with her and hash out all the details. Tell her that. It won’t be the end of the world.” Adam looked over at me, his look indicating he thought I was clueless on this. “Look, are you going to Haley’s this evening?”

He nodded. “I didn’t want to go, but Tiff insisted. Even with everything we have going on, she’s still desperate to get on Haley’s good side, and since Little Miss used the words ‘peace offering’ to Tiff, there’s no way she wanted to pass that up.” He sighed. “And despite what I said, I can’t deny her what she wants. Especially now.”

Adam stood to leave and I joined him. I clapped him on the back and opened my mouth to say something inspiring or soothing. But I had no words, really. This was pretty serious and I had a feeling that no matter what way it went down, he was going to end up with a lot of pain.

He stopped in the doorway. “You know what the worst part is?” he asked me. I shook my head. “I didn’t want to start up anything serious this summer because I didn’t want to leave my heart behind in Stoneybrook, the way Jordan has to.” He rubbed his eyes. “But, depending on what Tiff decides, I may have that problem anyway.” With that, he walked away.

***

After Adam left, I had one more worry to add to my bank, but I pushed it all aside and focused on the one I felt I could do the most with. I picked up the phone in the hallway and retreated to my empty room, dialing a number from memory. Jeff’s mom answered. “Hello, Mrs. Spier,” I said.

“Byron? Jeff’s right upstairs. I’ll get him for you in a second.” Jeff’s mom sounded much the same way I felt. “Before I do though, can I ask you for a favor? We’re having family dinner on Tuesday. Mary Anne and Pete are coming, and Richard and I would like it if you were there with Jeff.” I was stunned. I sucked in a breath but Mrs. Spier went on. “To be honest, Byron, I’m a little worried about him. I’ve seen Jeff be happy and sunny before, and I’ve seen him be angry and sullen. But I’ve never seen him like this. It’s like he’s not feeling anything at all.”

“I know. I see it too.”

“I knew you did. Being with you always makes Jeff seem so much more alive. Plus, I’d like to get to know you better. So will you come?”

I thought about my work schedule. “I think I’m free. I’ll have to double check, but if I’m not working I’ll be there.” It might be awkward, but I figured if we were forced to sit down for dinner, we would have to talk.

I could hear her smile. “Great! Let me go get him.”

She set the phone down and there was silence for a while. Jeff picked the phone up quietly and for a moment I didn’t even realize he was there. “By?” he said faintly, “You still there?”

“I’m here.” Jeff usually starts phone conversations with statements like, “What’s up?” He didn’t do anything of the sort this time, though. He just waited for me to go on. I went straight to the point. “Are you coming to Haley’s to watch the movie with us?” I asked.

He sighed. “I wasn’t planning on it.” It was about four p.m. and he sounded like I’d woken him up.

I plowed on. “Well, why not? You got a better offer?” I was picturing him sitting at home, making small talk with his mom and stepdad—something I know he’d been trying to do as little as possible all summer long.

Jeff didn’t answer for a moment. “I just don’t feel like hanging out today. I’m just not up for it.”

“What’s the matter? It seems like you never feel up to hanging out these days,” I observed. This was answered by complete silence. “C’mon, Jeff,” I pleaded, “For me? I just need to be with you for a couple of hours. We can share a couch cushion on Hay’s couch. You don’t have to say a word beyond ‘hello.’” It was a low blow and I knew it, but I was desperate at this point. “Please?”

Jeff sucked in a breath. “You are the only person I would let get away with emotional blackmail,” he said morosely.

“So you’ll come?”

“Yeah. For a little while. No promises beyond that.” He yawned. “I gotta go.”

“Yeah, me too. Take care, Jeff. I…” I was cut off by Jeff hanging up prematurely. I finished my sentence out loud to myself, just needing to say it. “I love you,” I told the phone.

Jeff sounded lifeless, and I pictured him looking as unhappy and uncomfortable as Adam had just now. If we were going to assume that Tiff was also going to be miserable, this was going to be one fun evening.

***

We were supposed to be at Haley’s after five, but Adam appeared in my doorway again at quarter till. “Ready to go?” he asked. He’d fixed his hair, albeit half-heartedly, with a lot less product than he usually uses. Instead of his usual tight clothes, he wore a baggy t-shirt and a loose pair of jeans. I’m not sure if he’d raided Jordan’s closet or what.

I gathered up all my belongings. “We’re going to be really early,” I commented.

Adam shrugged. “I’ve got all my shit together,” he said tersely, “and if we wait fifteen minutes that may no longer be true.” I nodded at him, knowing he wasn’t referring to any physical items.

We stood outside Hay’s front door for a moment before we rang the bell. The house was wide open—Hay’s a big fan of fresh air when there’s a breeze. We could hear voices coming from the living room in the front of the house. There were some curtains in the windows—all my time at Kitchen & Bath had taught me that they were called sheers—the thin, translucent kind. Hay and Jordan were standing inside the window and, although they were hazy through the sheers, I could see that he had his arms around her and they were smooching on and off. “I’m going to miss you,” I heard Hay say.

Jordan kissed her again. “I’m going to miss you more,” he replied.

“No, I’ll miss you more.”

Oh my God. They were purely nauseating. This is the kind of thing Adam hates, but when I looked over at him, waiting for him to comment, I realized he wasn’t even listening. He had his hands clenched in front of him and was squeezing the left hand so hard with the right that it looked like it hurt. I finally realized it was up to me to end the goop going on inside the house. “She can’t miss you if you don’t leave,” I called out in a sing-song voice.

The curtains parted and Hay’s face appeared in the crack, with Jordan’s right behind her. He put his arms around her waist, looking put out. She, on the other hand, appeared amused. “You’re early!” she pouted, hiding a smile. “The door’s open. C’mon in.”

By the time we made it into the living room, a whole thirty seconds later, Jordan and Hay were back to making out. She was wearing very little clothing—a camisole and a short, thin skirt—and yet she and Jordan were both covered in sweat. I raised an eyebrow at Adam and he shrugged.

Jordan pulled Haley closer to him one last time and kissed her forehead. “I gotta go, Honey,” he said as he ran his hands down her back.

She blew him a kiss as he moved to the door. “Love you,” she called. He grinned at her just before he exited. Hay turned to us, a smile etched into her face.

Adam had plopped down on the couch and was looking over the large assortment of remote controls on the side table. Hay’s mom doesn’t know what most of them are for, but she won’t throw them away in case they come in handy. Hay’s pretty sure one of them is to a TV they threw away before they moved to Stoneybrook…eight years ago.

Haley looked at him and raised her eyebrows. “Tiff coming?” she said. I had trouble believing that she brought Tiffany into the conversation so casually. Obviously she didn’t know what was going on with Adam and Tiff, but last time I’d heard her refer to Tiff aloud, there’d been a few choice curse words thrown in.

Adam nodded distractedly. “This is the largest collection of remotes I’ve ever seen,” he said.

Hay giggled. “Matt wants to start a museum with them.” She sounded giddy and the smile was still on her face. “Hey, By, can you help me in the kitchen? I’ve got chips and popcorn, but because you guys were early, they’re not ready to go.”

I was still standing in the vestibule. “You got it, Honey,” I said, mocking Jordan just a little. She rolled her eyes at me and headed into the kitchen. I followed, more slowly.

She was in a sickeningly chipper mood as she handed me a bag of popcorn and gestured wordlessly to the microwave. “What did you and Jordan get up to today?” I asked, not sure I wanted to know. I started up the microwave.

Hay raised an eyebrow. “You sound like me,” she said, almost laughing. I just looked at her as she dumped some Munchies into a bowl. “I was teaching him some yoga moves,” she said finally.

“I’ll bet.”

She waggled her eyebrows at me. “You’ve definitely been hanging around with me for too long,” she said with another spate of giggles. Her hair was pulled back on the top half of her head into a ponytail, while the rest of her hair was loose. When she turned to me as she tossed the Munchie bag in the trash, she looked like she was glowing.

“You didn’t…” I faded out and let that hang there. I knew she knew exactly what I meant.

She smiled again. “I told you. We were doing yoga.”

“I always do yoga in a short skirt.”

Hay pretended to look shocked. “I’d pay to see that,” she quipped. I stopped the microwave and crossed my arms in front of my body. She tipped her head toward me and bumped her hip into my leg. “We went to yoga class, and then we practiced a few of the moves in the living room. Then I changed out of my workout clothes, because I was totally sweaty and gross. And then, maybe, Jordan and I made out on the living room floor for a while…”

I pretended I hadn’t heard the last part. “You dragged Jordan to a yoga class?” I repeated.

She smirked. “Actually, he asked if he could come. He said he needed to mellow out a bit.”

I raised my eyebrows to that. “As if you two didn’t get mellow enough when you got back here.”

Hay giggled again. “What has got you so nosy these days?” she asked. “Usually, when the topic of Jordan and me comes up, you put your hands over your ears and hum something that sounds…churchy.”

I had to smile at that, because it was at least a little bit true. “I worry about you, you know.”

She cocked her head to one side, and I couldn’t tell if she was annoyed or what. In any case, she sobered up, losing the giggly smile. “Why? I can take care of myself,” she said seriously.

“I know. But I have a feeling you told the same thing to Vanessa before…” I paused and bit my lip. Even I couldn’t believe I’d just said that, but it had slipped out. It was basically the culmination of three months of worry, always in the back of my head. Even though I knew Jordan was treating Haley like a china doll, I’d heard stories about him and other girls. Lots of stories.

Hay pursed her lips. “That was different,” she said, looking downward and not making eye contact.

“Oh yeah?”

She looked up and tried to read my expression. I don’t know what she saw, but for some reason she softened. “Jordan isn’t Dominick, By. Not by a long shot. For starters, he knows the meaning of the word ‘no.’” She gave me a hug and let go. “Look, earlier today, when we were really sweaty, Jordan suggested I should just take my shirt off.” I raised my eyebrows. “I told him no and he was completely okay with that. It’s not that I’ll never take my top off for him. It’s just,” she paused and made a face. I wasn’t sure if she was shying away from the idea of what she was going to say or if the actual thought made her slightly ill. “It’s just that I didn’t get to decide when any of my firsts were. Dominick never took my shirt off, so I get to decide when that happens. And it has to be my idea.” Now that the words were said, she smiled again, a little happier.

“I’m glad to hear that,” I said, “because I told Jordan that if he ever hurt you, I’d kick his ass. But you and I both know that if I ever tried, I’m the one who’d get beaten to a pulp.”

The smile from before started to creep back across her face. The doorbell rang—both an audible ding-dong and a flashing of lights. “Adam, can you get that?” Hay called. She gave me a bowl and I finally removed the popcorn from the microwave. We gathered up all the snacks but then she stopped. “I have one last comment that should make you feel even better on that topic, okay? Jordan…” she stopped, shaking her head. “This was said to me in confidence, so you can’t tell anyone, alright? Jordan and his friends from the Faith League took virginity pledges. He and I promised each other that we’re going to take things very slowly and make all these decisions together. Does that sound like someone you have to worry about?”

Hay didn’t wait for me to answer; instead she took the popcorn and Munchies and stacked them on top of each other and waltzed into the other room. “Hey, Tiff,” she said casually, as if there were no bad blood between the two of them.

I followed at a more sedate pace, trying to sort out what Hay had just said but also observe the situation ahead of me. Tiff and Adam were standing near the door in a quick embrace—nothing like the steamy little scene Hay and Jordan had made earlier in nearly the same spot. Tiff just briefly rested her chin on Adam’s shoulder and he buried his head in her hair, and then they separated. “Hi, Haley,” Tiff said, polite but more than a little stiff. She plastered a fake smile on her face as she moved from Hay to me. “How’s it going, Byron?”

I smiled gently at her. “It’s going,” I said generically. She was a little better at hiding her discomfort than Adam was, but it was right there if you knew what you were looking for. She wore less makeup than usual, and I’d never seen her not have her fingernails painted some crazy color or another. Even though it was maybe 95 outside, she wore long pants—not capris but long jeans—and an oversized shirt. There was also some tension written in the corners of her mouth and eyes.

Haley set the snacks down on the end table that wasn’t covered in the Braddock Remote Museum. “Make yourselves at home,” she said casually, but she raised her shoulders as she spoke, telling me she was just a little bit anxious about everything after all.

Tiff took Hay at her word and sat down on the other end of the couch. Adam sat down next to her feet on the floor. I sat down next to the snacks—someone had to, after all. Hay looked at the set up and, not quite feeling the love enough to sit down right next to Tiff, perched on the edge of the oversized chair that faced the sofa. We all sat there silently for a moment and Hay looked at me pleadingly. I knew she’d read Adam and Tiff correctly enough to know that something was up, but I wasn’t sure exactly what she thought that might be. She mouthed the word ‘help’ and squeezed her hands together, but I shrugged helplessly at her. I had no idea what to do either.

Tiff looked around the room. “This is a nice house,” she observed, saving the day without knowing it.

Hay smiled lightly. “We like it,” she said gratefully.

Tiffany continued to glance around. “Although,” she said, her eyes falling to the end table, “I’m not sure how many electronic devices one room really needs.”

Hay laughed. “You don’t know my mom,” she said, which didn’t seem to follow the conversation—but actually, was a logical statement in this case. “She must have been a Boy Scout in a previous life. Her motto is definitely ‘be prepared.’” This was true. Hay waved her hand in the direction of the collection Tiff continued to take in. “You never know when MacGyver might come by and find a use for one of these suckers, along with a pair of tweezers and a piece of chewing gum.”

Adam looked intrigued. “MacGyver, huh?” he said. He got up on his knees and inspected the remotes also. “Do any of these actually work?”

Hay nodded. “One for the stereo, TV, cable box and DVD player. Matt marked all of those with sparkly pink nail polish.” Adam raised an eyebrow and she shook her head. “I was going through a phase, okay? I couldn’t tell you what most of the rest of those are for.” She hopped up and started fiddling with the DVD player.

We were quiet for a moment again, less awkwardly this time. After she set up the DVD, Hay returned to her chair. “Jordan got his roommate information this week. Did you two get yours yet?” she asked me and Adam.

I nodded. “I’ve actually already talked to mine on the phone a couple times. His name is Julio Fuentes and he’s an engineering major, too.”

“Julio?” Hay repeated. I shrugged. “He sounds…”

I glared at her. “If you say gay…”

Hay rolled her eyes. “Of course not, By. I was going to say…” she faded out again, but she started giggling. I had no idea what she was going to say, but it was obvious she wasn’t going to finish her sentence.

I was desperate for a topic change. “How about you, Adam?”

He looked distracted. “I went online and found a guy. We got to talking about OU and decided to be roomies. His name’s Colin.” He put his hand up over his shoulder onto Tiff’s knee as he spoke. She looked uncomfortable with the conversation about him leaving town. I noticed she kept touching her stomach—she wasn’t being obvious about it, but she’d done it maybe five times since she’d sat down. I don’t even think she noticed she was doing it.

Hay didn’t notice. “You met your roommate online? Isn’t that kinda dangerous?”

Adam looked over at Tiff, who shrugged. He was about to respond, but I replied first. “Hay, you have got to stop learning all of your life lessons from episodes of Degrassi,” I sighed. “Like letting a computer pick your roommate for you—like Jordan and I did—is any safer.”

Hay giggled again. Tiff perked up. “What is Degrassi?” she asked.

Before Haley could say anything, I spoke up again. “Degrassi is the worst television show in the history of the world,” I said.

Tiff and Adam looked at each other again. “Oh, come on,” Hay exclaimed. “Don’t ever listen to By. He just doesn’t appreciate fine Canadian teen drama.”

I slouched back into my seat and took a handful of Munchies. “Bah, humbug,” I said. “That show isn’t realistic in any way. That’s my problem with it.”

Hay raised her eyebrows. “Oh, yeah? Like you aren’t Marco and I’m not Paige,” she said with another giggle.

By this point, Adam was shaking his head. “Ignore the two of them when they get this,” he told Tiff. She smiled, just a little.

I ignored him. “If you’re Paige,” I told Hay, “then Jordan must be Spinner.” Hay looked disgusted. “Enough said.”

Hay stuck out her tongue at me, not about to let me have the last word. “No, one last thing. Is Jeff Dylan?” She giggled briefly, and then her words caught up to her. “Speaking of Jeff,” she said as she glanced at the wall clock, “he’s late.”

I looked at the clock, also, and sighed. “He said he would be here,” I noted. “Can we give him five more minutes? If he’s not here by then, I’ll go over and drag him out of his house.”

Hay noticed my tone of voice. “What is with him these days?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know,” I said truthfully. I had promised, back in the spring, not to tell anyone about Jeff’s troubles and I had faithfully kept that word. But even with that knowledge in my head, I still couldn’t explain Jeff’s behavior.

Jeff only made me wait four out of those five minutes. Just as I was tying up my Converse to cross the street to his house, he rang the doorbell. “It’s for you,” Hay said, and since I was right inside the door anyway, I opened it.

He might have been standing on the stoop, but he looked like his brain was on another planet. I stepped outside to meet him. “You made it,” I said, gathering him into a hug.

Jeff hugged back, though not as enthusiastically as I would have liked. “I’m here,” he said. I waited for more of a response—maybe a “Can I leave now?”—but I knew he wasn’t in the mood for joking. Unlike Adam and Tiff, his style of dress wasn’t changed in any way, but he just didn’t look like his usual self, either. There were bags under his eyes and he just looked blank.

I took Jeff’s hand and pulled him up the steps. Hay was nowhere in sight. Jeff looked at Adam and Tiff and, taking my statement from earlier literally, greeted them with a single word. “Hey,” he said. He sat down in Hay’s vacated chair. I eyed the seat and decided that I might fit into it with him. After all, I had promised to share a cushion with him. Jeff scooted to the side and put his head down on the padded arm of the chair. He kicked off his sandals and pulled his feet up in front of him. I sat down at the edge of the seat gingerly and squeezed one of his feet.

Haley came back with a couple cans of soda. “Hey there, Jeff,” she said, genuinely smiling at him. He gave her a glance but barely responded, just raised one hand slightly as if it was too much effort to actually wave at her or to talk to her. Hay looked at me with concern in her eyes. I gave her my most helpless look and she raised her eyebrows. I saw Adam and Tiff look at each before they both turned to me.

Jeff closed his eyes, ignoring all the eyes that were aimed our way. I was feeling more and more panicked each second everyone was looking at me. “Maybe we’d better start the movie?” I suggested.

Hay was still holding the soda; she hadn’t moved since he’d greeted Jeff, but now she slowly unfroze. “Sure, in just a second.” She handed Adam and Tiff each a can. “By, Jeff, do you need anything? Drinks?”

Jeff didn’t move, so I answered for both of us. “We’re fine for now. And if that changes, I know where the kitchen is.” I’m practically a member of the family at Hay’s house, so I’m used to helping myself to things in the kitchen. I wiggled my butt farther back into the seat until it reached the back of the chair. Jeff’s hip was poking into my side and he didn’t seem to even notice that. I shifted until my hips were at the same angle as his and wrapped one arm around his waist, leaning in his direction.

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Still standing, she meandered over to the remote controls and picked up the one to the DVD player. The movie was already cued up on the television screen; she just had to hit play. “Any of you ever see this before?” she asked.

“Clerks?” Tiff said, looking at the screen. “I think so. It’s in black and white, right?”

“Yeah.” Hay curled up in the far corner of the couch, where I had been sitting earlier. Adam hopped up in between her and Tiffany and snuggled up to the latter. I noticed that he put his hand over her stomach, same as she’d been doing.

Adam shook his head. “I’ve heard about it before, though, and I’ve seen a couple of the other movies in the same universe.”

Hay sighed happily. “We own the whole series, so let me know if you ever want to borrow any of them. I just love them all.”

She started the movie up, and we soon came to realize just how much she loved the movie and how many times she’d seen it. No matter how many death glares Adam shot her, Hay just couldn’t seem to stop reciting the dialogue along with the characters. I’m used to that out of her; she watches movies over and over again and can quote large chunks of a couple dozen or so. But Adam really hates it when someone talks during a movie, and I know she had to have been on his last nerve. Hay got so into watching the movie that she barely even noticed.

After only about ten minutes, Tiff called a time-out. “Where’s your bathroom?” she asked Haley.

Hay made a face. “If you need to wash your hands or get a tissue, there’s one on the other side of this wall,” she said, pointing to the wall with the television. “Otherwise, you have to go upstairs, second door on the left. The toilet down here is on the fritz.”

I shifted in my seat and felt my knees creak; I hadn’t realized how tensed up my whole body was. “Again?” I said to Hay. She shrugged. Tiff ran upstairs and I eased my way off the chair. Jeff hadn’t moved at all since he’d sat down in the chair, but he had opened his eyes when the movie began. I knelt down in front of his face and placed one hand on his cheek. He turned his eyes to me, waiting for something profound to come out of my mouth. I didn’t have any words that grand—and even if I had, I wouldn’t have wanted to say them in front of Adam and Hay. “Do you want something to drink?” I asked him.

He shook his head and went back to staring into outer space. I didn’t want to get up, but I did so anyway. I moved ridiculously slowly in the kitchen, digging through all the cans of cola, looking at all the best by dates, despite the fact that they all came from the same 24 pack.

When I got back into the living room, Tiff was back on the couch and she and Haley were commenting on a scar Adam has on his right ankle. It’s actually two scars from two separate injuries: a small crescent that had required stitches when he was five, and two puncture marks from I don’t even remember what, several years later. Put together, though, they form a happy face smiling up at the world. “That’s just plain weird,” Hay observed. She turned to me as I tried to squish back into the chair with Jeff; despite the fact that he didn’t seem to mind sharing the seat with me, he wasn’t making it easy for me to get in with him. “Do you have any odd scars, By?”

I shook my head. “I got a few scars, but they’re pretty boring.”

Hay looked thoughtful. “What about Jordan? Obviously, I’ve seen his legs and arms, but is he hiding anything interesting under his clothes?”

Adam looked at her like she was crazy. I wasn’t sure if he was surprised to hear that she’d never seen Jordan without his clothes, or if he was just annoyed with her in general over the movie dialogue. “Why don’t you ask all the girls who’ve actually seen him with his clothes off?” he asked snappishly.

Hay recoiled like he’d hit her. She looked a little hurt, but hid it by reaching over for the remote. “Are we ready to start the movie back up?” she asked.

No one answered her. Tiff put a soothing hand on Adam’s knee and threw him a glance. I could read her exactly: She knew just what was bothering him and didn’t want him taking it out on Haley. He settled down just a little bit but didn’t say anything. Hay pressed the remote control a little harder than necessary and then tossed it down the crack of the couch, between her and the arm.

The movie started back up and even Hay was silent for a while, but sometimes she really just can’t help herself. Just a few minutes later we were watching a scene about a couple arguing over how many guys she’d gone down on. Hay piped up with what I knew must be lines from later in the same scene. “‘My girlfriend’s sucked thirty-seven dicks.’ ‘In a row?’” I rolled my eyes fondly at her and Tiff snickered. Adam, on the other hand, was not amused. We managed to keep watching without bloodshed for now.

At forty-five minutes, Hay paused the movie again. “What did you want to do for dinner?” she asked us. “I was thinking Thai food. We could get it delivered.”

Tiff lost all color in her face and put her hand to her mouth. I was expecting her to get up and run out of the room, but she took a deep breath and slowly went back to normal. I glanced at Adam, who looked vaguely freaked out. I looked at Hay. “Not Thai, Hay,” I said, “Can we stick to something more…bland?”

Hay pouted. “You love Thai food. You love all food,” she said to me. She’d obviously missed Tiff’s reaction to her food choice.

“I do,” I replied, “but maybe not this evening.”

Tiff was about to say something but her expression changed as she looked over toward the door to the kitchen. “Aw. Haley, I didn’t know you had a cat. I always wanted a cat, but my mom wouldn’t let me have one.”

A small calico cat stood in the doorframe, watching us curiously. After a moment, she walked in. Tiff made little noises with her lips, trying to get the cat’s attention, but the cat strutted past her without a glance. Haley looked amused. “Sorry. I have to warn you, Hermione has a total mind of her own.”

“Hermione?” Adam asked.

Hay shook her head. “Matt used to have an Emma Watson fetish,” she said. “Anyway, Hermione only has eyes for one person in the whole world.” As if to prove the point, Hermione jumped up onto the arm of the chair I was sitting in, the arm Jeff wasn’t resting his head on. She looked at me until I sighed and shifted, and then she climbed into my lap. Haley smiled.

Adam gave me a sick little grin and I knew he was about to say something pretty inappropriate. I didn’t give him the opportunity. “I think I just have a really soft lap,” I observed.

Jeff finally moved for the first time in about an hour. He shifted and stretched and turned over so he was facing me. He wrapped his arms around my neck and whispered in my ear, then settled his head onto my shoulder. I blushed scarlet from his words and everyone sat up and stared at me. Adam smirked. “I wanted to say something to embarrass you, but it looks like Jeff beat me to it.”

Hay leaned forward with a silly look on her face. “What did he say?” she asked slyly.

Jeff just closed his eyes and leaned onto me a little more. Hermione got jealous and stalked off, hopping up onto a shelf on the entertainment center, licking her wounds and her tail. I shrugged at Hay and the group as a whole. “That’s between me and Jeff,” I commented, wrapping my arms around him and resting my cheek on his head.

“As far as I can see, there isn’t a whole lot between you and Jeff,” Adam teased. “Do you two need a blanket so you can grope in some semblance of privacy?” I didn’t dignify that with a reply.

Hay returned to an earlier topic, knowing that she wasn’t going to get too much more of a rise out of me on the current subject. “So what about dinner?” she pressed.

Adam looked at Tiff, who looked a little green again. I noticed that, although Hay and Adam had been eating the snacks, she hadn’t touched them. Adam went from being his usual self—throwing out dirty jokes left and right—to the more sedate guy he’d been most of the day. “Why don’t we finish the movie and then we can decide what to do for dinner?” he suggested.

Hay shrugged her assent and picked the remote back up. “Before you start that, pass one of those snack bowls over here,” I called. She passed me the bowl of Munchies and then the movie came back. Hay shoveled popcorn into her mouth at an alarming rate—I think she was a little hungrier than she wanted to admit, hence her insistence on dinner.

The movie had only been back on for a few minutes before Adam started getting annoyed again. The popcorn was quickly gone and then Hay was back to her old tricks. Her eyes were so thoroughly glued to the screen that she was completely oblivious to the irritation growing right next to her. Adam balled his hands up as Hay continued to spoil lines.

Shortly before the end of the film, Hay said the words ‘thirty-seven’ again with a laugh. Adam had had enough. He turned to Haley and looked at her, distracting her attention from the television screen. “Why don’t you ask your boyfriend how many girls have sucked his dick?” he snapped.

It pretty much came out of nowhere in Hay’s eyes. Her mouth formed an O for a moment and then she shook herself. “What?” she said as she clicked the movie to a pause.

“You heard me.”

Hay frowned. “I heard you just fine, Adam Pike,” she said. I could tell how irritated she was because she only whips out the last name when she’s thoroughly annoyed. “What I wanted to know was what you meant.”

For the first time all evening, Jeff sat up straight, unwrapping his arms from my neck and instead placing one hand on my shoulder where his head had been. “Uh-oh,” he said slowly, in a very soft voice.

I disentangled myself from Jeff and looked at him; he looked as if he had slept through everything, although I knew he’d been awake. His eyes had that bleary, sleep-filled look, and the rest of his face was slack. “Yup,” I replied morosely, not sure I liked where this conversation was headed.

Tiff definitely didn’t like it either. “Maybe that’s a conversation that’s better had between you and Jordan,” she suggested to Haley.

Hay looked like she wanted to cry. “Maybe I will,” she said defiantly, flashing angry eyes at Adam rather than Tiff.

She picked up the remote and I slid out of my seat, pointing up the stairs. “Don’t wait the movie on my account,” I said. Hay was too frustrated and annoyed to even reply. I didn’t see her start the movie back up, but I did hear it start playing. I looked back at her through the doorway and I could see she was doing that thing where she was willing herself so hard not to cry that she didn’t even notice that tears were already falling.

I hadn’t realized so little of the movie was left. By the time I was washing my hands after using the bathroom, two sets of feet were coming up the stairs. I was just about to open the door to let the next user in when I heard the beginnings of a conversation.

“I’m sorry about Adam being an ass just now,” Tiff said in a low voice that I barely caught. “You haven’t been crying, have you?”

That’s how I knew she was talking to Haley. “No,” Hay lied.

Tiff plowed on. “I’m not going to make excuses for him or say he was right in any way, but he’s under a lot of stress right now. He’s…” she paused and I imagined that she was trying to find the right words. “Let’s just say I’ve put him in an awkward spot.”

Hay snorted. “Right,” she said sarcastically. She banged on the door to the bathroom. “Hurry up, By!” she shouted at me.

I dried my hands a second time and went to open the door but Tiffany went on. I didn’t want to interrupt any reconciliation attempt the two might be having, so I pulled my hand back from the door. “You guys only have one bathroom here?” she asked.

“Aside from the broken one downstairs, there’s one in my parents’ room,” Hay replied. “I’m going to use that one, but I need to grab something from here first.” She groaned loudly. “Ugh, my stomach is so upset right now. I shouldn’t have eaten all that popcorn. I could just barf.”

There was a brief pause and then Tiff spoke seriously. “Every time I’m near you, you’re always ready to throw up,” she said. “Any chance you’re pregnant?”

I sucked in my breath. I knew the answer to that was a big fat no and I waited for Hay to exclaim her innocence but instead she sighed. “Why does everyone think I should be pregnant?” she asked. I was so surprised by her statement that I could only guess how Tiffany felt about that. There was a pause and then Hay restated her position. “No, I’m definitely not pregnant. First, I’m on my rag right now. Second, Jordan and I have not been doing anything that would result in pregnancy anyway.”

“Oh,” Tiff said, and she sounded…disappointed? The reason for that became clear in a moment. “It’s just that I just found out I’m pregnant and I thought if you were too, maybe we’d have something in common.”

This was met by complete silence for a while. “You’re pregnant?” Haley finally echoed.

“I found out on Thursday,” Tiff said quietly.

Hay muttered something that sounded like, “Well, that explains Adam, then,” before she returned to Tiffany. “Why are you telling me this?” she asked. It didn’t come across as rude, just matter-of-fact.

Tiff clearly took it the way it was meant. “I don’t really have any female friends, so I don’t have anyone to talk to about this. Adam, well, he’s a wreck, and I definitely can’t talk to him about this the way I would a girl friend. He keeps telling me it’s all my choice to make and typical guy stuff like that.”

Hay drew in a very deep audible breath. “I guess, if you ever needed to talk, you could give me a call. At the very least, I could be an objective listener.” There was another quiet moment and then Haley said, “Is this where we’re supposed to hug?”

Tiff actually laughed. “Let’s not push our luck,” she said.

I decided it was safe to open the bathroom door. One look at Hay told me that, not only did she know I’d heard all of that, but she also knew I’d purposely waited until they were done. But she wasn’t about to tell that to Tiff. “Oh, my Lord, By,” she sniped as she pushed past me into the bathroom. “What the fuck were you doing in here that took you that long?” She reached into a decorative box on the counter and returned with a tampon. “Never mind that. I do not want to know. Just scoot out of the way; you’ve been making Tiff hold it for forever now.”

Both Hay and I exited the room and let Tiff through. “Thanks, Haley,” she said.

Hay waited until the bathroom door was shut and then called back after Tiff. “Don’t mention it,” she said, and then scooted down into her parents’ bedroom.

Adam was stretched out on the couch when I came back, trying to goad Jeff into a conversation and getting absolutely nowhere. “I told you back during spring break, man. Red Sox all the way to the Series. Now the Dodgers, they’re actually doing decent this year, but there’s no way they can beat the Sox.” Jeff had leaned back over the arm of the chair while I was upstairs, and while he was actually looking at Adam as he spoke, he didn’t appear to be following the conversation. “Yo, Schafer, you listening to me?”

“I don’t blame him if he’s not,” I said breezily as I sat down on the other arm of the chair. “You and the Sox. That’s all you ever talk about these days,” I lied. “Aren’t they pretty much hopeless? When was the last time they won the Series?” I smiled at Adam, who actually tried a smile back. Baseball was, in his mind, a great distraction from his troubles. “Is there a team out there that’s never won the Series? I think I’ll root for them.”

Jeff reached over and pried my hand that was closer to him off the couch and squeezed it. “How about the Cubs?” he asked, speaking the first full sentence he’d said aloud since he’d come inside the house. “They last won in…what was it?” He looked up at me and while he wasn’t smiling or anything, he did appear to be more than half-awake for the first time all evening.

Adam finished Jeff’s sentence. “1908.”

“1908,” I repeated, never taking my eyes off Jeff’s. “Sounds good to me. I got a thing for lost causes.”

“Lost causes,” Jeff said with a sigh. “Like me.”

I put a hand on each side of his face. “Never,” I promised him. “You’re only lost when everyone gives up on you. I’ll never do that.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Adam shifting uncomfortably. I suddenly got what he meant when he said that he could see how I felt about Jeff. I’d said ‘I love you’ before because of what Adam said and because of the way Jeff usually ends phone calls with a generic ‘love ya.’ But for the first time, I thought that I might actually be able to say it to Jeff and mean it. I felt like he was slipping away recently, and I’d realized how much that hurt. It hurt more than if it were one of my brothers and sisters. It hurt more than if it were Hay. And I’d told all of them, at some point or another, how much I loved them. (Yes, even Nick.) But I had yet to say it to Jeff.

But this was definitely not the right time. I couldn’t say it in front of Adam, especially the way he’d poured his heart out earlier. He hadn’t said so, but even though he said he wasn’t looking for love this summer, I had the feeling he was jealous of what Jordan had with Haley. He might not have wanted to exchange ‘miss you mores’ in an extremely sickening fashion, but I could understand being jealous of the goodbye kiss and ‘love you.’ I was a little bit jealous of that myself, to be honest. Especially with Jeff the way he was right now.

Tiff came back into the living room as Jeff answered. “You say that now,” he said to me, “but we’ll see how easily that kind of promise is broken.”

I kissed the top of Jeff’s head, not replying to his statement. There wasn’t much I could say to it; only time would tell. Adam sat up at one end of the couch and Tiff sat by his side. “You got Jeff talking!” she said, as if I had performed some kind of miracle.

“Yeah,” I replied, “but he’s talking crazy talk over here.” I slid down into the seat next to him and put an arm around his shoulder.

Tiff looked at Adam yet again. “This is one of those times when I should ignore them, isn’t it?” she asked.

He took her hand and kissed it. “Oh yeah.”

Hay thundered down the stairs—for someone so petite, sometimes she moves like a small elephant. She stood in the doorway and took in the scene. Without a word she strode through the door, stopping in front of Jeff and me. She ruffled Jeff’s hair and grinned at him and then perched on the arm of the chair where I had been sitting until a moment ago. Adam let go of Tiff’s hand and took in the three of us sharing one seat. “So, are we still thinking dinner? Tiffany, you hungry?”

It was Haley’s turn to turn slightly green. Tiff noticed and shook her head. “Not particularly.”

Adam looked concerned. “You need to eat,” he said.

Hay looked Tiff over and shook her head. “Don’t not eat on my account. If you’re hungry, feel free to order something. I’ll eat later if I feel like it.”

Adam looked from her to Tiffany, confused. “Tiff?” he said.

She shook her head again. “I’m not hungry right yet, Adam. Don’t worry, though. I’ll eat something eventually.”

Jeff was following the conversation, confusion clear onto his face. He turned to me and gave me a questioning glance. I shook my head at him. “Later, okay?” I whispered. He nodded.

Hay jumped off the chair and moved to the end of the couch with the remotes. She flipped the television off and the stereo on. “Give me a minute here,” she said. “I have to change CDs before we can listen to anything. The one that’s in there now is something Vanessa gave me. It’s depressing as hell.”

Jeff seemed intrigued. He leaned forward in his seat, coming out of my grasp. “On a scale of one to ten, how depressing is it?” he asked.

Hay frowned. “Give me some reference points,” she demanded.

He thought for a moment. “One is your usual la-la-la self. Five, maybe you need some Prozac. Ten is slit your wrists.”

I turned to him, shocked. “Jeff!” I exclaimed.

He wrinkled his brow. “What?!”

“I don’t think that’s funny.”

“Who said it’s supposed to be?”

The other three had been watching this warily. I saw Hay and Tiff exchange a glance this time, while Adam just scrunched up his face—he could see this wasn’t going to lead anywhere good. “Byron,” Tiff said tentatively after a minute, “you didn’t cut your wrists, did you?”

I took a deep breath, not sure how to answer that. Of course I hadn’t. But I was afraid that if I pointed that out, everyone would know the truth.

“No, I did,” Jeff said after a moment. He looked on me angrily. “Are you happy now?” he asked. I shook my head, but Jeff wasn’t watching me anymore. He jumped out of his seat and bent down to pick up his sandals. Without stopping to put them on, he ran out the door without a backward glance.

Everyone else was looking at me. “Jeff, wait,” I called. I was wearing my socks without shoes but I didn’t think about that. I just ran out the door after him. Despite my track experience, he’d had the element of surprise on his side and as such he’d gotten quite a head start on me. By the time I reached the sidewalk, he was across the street. “Jeff,” I called again.

He ignored me and cut across the lawn to his house. I flew across the street, without even checking traffic, desperate to catch up to him, but it wasn’t meant to be. By the time I made it to his house, cutting across his lawn in a brand new pair of white socks, he’d made it inside and locked the door behind him.

I rang the doorbell, hoping his parents were home, but no one answered. Both of their cars were gone and I realized that Jeff must be home alone. I banged on the door. “Jeff, please let me in,” I shouted, but I knew he wasn’t going to. I’d been willing him silently all evening to show some emotion and now that he’d finally done it, I wasn’t very happy about it.

I wanted to go straight back home and into my bed, but I’d left my shoes at the Braddocks’. At the very least, I needed to stop back at Hay’s to pick them up, but I really wasn’t looking forward to three pairs of eyes staring at me.

I guess I should have been pleased, then, when I got back to Hay’s and Adam and Tiff had left. “Tiff suddenly decided she was hungry after all,” Hay said quietly when I came in the front door. She was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, my shoes sitting in front of her. “But I think that she just didn’t want things to be all awkward.” She stood up and took me in. “You heading home, or do you want to come upstairs and have a bitch session with me?”

If Tiff and Adam had still been there, I would have definitely left. But I looked at Haley and she looked as exhausted as I felt. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Hay’s bed is twin sized, but we both stretched across it on our backs, side by side. We were silent for about five minutes before she started talking. “How long have you known?” she asked.

I drew in a deep breath. “You’re going to have to be way more specific, Hay.”

She rolled over and looked at me. “Jeff,” was all she said.

“You mean about him threatening to slit his wrists?” All the response I got was her looking at me like I was a moron. “Since spring break. He didn’t want me to tell anyone and I respected that.”

She pouted, not her usual cheerful but manipulative pout, but a legitimately unhappy face. “I’m not just anyone,” she pointed out.

I rolled over too, so we were facing each other. “No, you aren’t. You’re my best friend. But you’re also Jeff’s friend. If he had wanted you to know, he would have told you.”

Hay conceded the point. “I just don’t like it,” she said finally. “We’ve never kept secrets from each other before.”

I laughed bitterly and she gave me a suspicious look. “You know that’s not true,” I said. She looked blank and I laughed again, more kindly this time. “Gay,” I said, pointing at myself. I then pointed to her but didn’t say a word. I knew she got it.

Hay grinned in spite of herself and shook her head. “Yeah, okay, you’ve got a point.” She shifted her weight and sighed. “Well, I know about it now…” She faded out.

I sighed back. “There’s not too much to tell you. I just know he held the blade to his wrist and threatened to cut. His dad called the cops and he ended up hospitalized for a couple weeks. He’s been seeing a therapist ever since.” Hay made a sympathetic noise. “I think he struggles all the time with some unseen demons.”

She reached over and put a hand on my shoulder. “I know things will work out, By. Just stick with him.”

“That’s the plan,” I said. I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “I love him, Hay. It’s taken me a while to see it, but I do.”

“I know,” she said soothingly. She returned the squeeze and let go of my hand. She started to speak again, then bit her tongue.

“What?” I asked, instantly suspicious.

Haley shook her head. “I was going to say something, but you’re right about how some things aren’t meant to be repeated.” She pulled her knees up towards her chest in the fetal position. “How about another topic, something I know you know about: Adam and Tiffany. I know you heard what she said while you were camping out in the bathroom.”

“Yup.” I rubbed my temples with my thumbs. “Actually, Adam told me earlier today.”

“That whole thing sucks,” she said, aptly summarizing the situation. “What are they going to do?”

“I don’t know,” I said, “and I don’t think they know either.” Hay nodded. “I’m going to be there for Adam and be a sounding board if he needs it, but at this point, I refuse to take on any more of anyone else’s problems. I got enough of my own to worry about.”

Hay grabbed her knees and pulled them tighter into her chest, giving herself a hug. “I know what you mean,” she said quietly.

I watched her for a moment. “What are you talking about? Things seem to be going well for you over all. What problems do you have?”

She didn’t answer that directly. “What’s this about Jordan and other girls that Adam was talking about?” she asked instead.

I sighed for what felt like the hundredth time. “He was just mad because you kept ruining bits of the movie for him,” I said.

Hay pressed on. “Yes, but he wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t true.”

I felt trapped in the one place that I had never wanted to be: between my brother and my best friend. “I think Tiff was right,” I said diplomatically. “This is a conversation that is best had between you and Jordan.”

Hay’s eyes were moist. “I know that,” she said quietly, “but I just need to know what’s going on. I feel like I’ve been missing some giant piece of the puzzle of my life. Jordan’s not cheating on me, is he?”

“Hay…”

“I have to know,” she repeated.

“No, he is not cheating on you, to my knowledge,” I said, knowing she wouldn’t stop until I at least confirmed that. “I only hear him talk about two things these days: college and you.” The conversation was so awkward that I turned flat onto my back as an excuse to break eye contact.

It didn’t work. She hiked up onto her elbows and leaned over me. “But he’s talked about other girls before,” she said.

“Yes,” I confirmed, “Over the past eighteen years, he has referred to other girls once or twice.”

“Byron, please stop being obtuse.”

I covered my eyes briefly. “You are putting me in a very awkward spot,” I told her as I lowered my hands. She just looked at me, genuine sadness in her eyes. “Okay, look, I’m not going to pass along gossip. I’ll give you what facts I have, but it’s not as if Jordan I were super-close during the time period I’m covering.” Hay looked marginally happier, but I wasn’t sure she would stay that way. “When they were fourteen, Adam and Jordan started a contest. They made up this scorecard with all the things you can do with a girl leading up to sex. Sort of like the bases that you’re so fond of, only a lot more of them. I think there was something like 16 different things on the list, and each one had a point value.”

Hay’s mouth was hanging open. “Why would they do that?” she asked.

“Because they were fourteen? In any case, for a couple years, you could go into their bedroom and there were three scores on a chalkboard. Whenever they did something with a girl—even if they’d done that thing before—they added more points onto their tally. For the first year or so, Adam was way in the lead.”

Haley wrinkled her nose. “You said there were three scores?” she said.

This part was worse than telling her about Jordan. “They put my name down and gave me a negative score. As time went on and I refused to play, they kept lowering my score. After we started hanging out all the time, they erased me, probably because they thought that I was actually way ahead of them.” She shook her head. “Anyway, not long before we turned sixteen, Jordan pulled ahead in the score, and for the entire rest of the time they kept playing, Jordan was ‘winning.’”

Hay rolled over onto her own back, probably so I couldn’t see her expression. “So Jordan’s been with a lot of girls,” she summarized.

“I didn’t say that,” I told her. “All I know for certain is that he’s definitely done a lot of the things on the list. And for a while, he bragged about it quite a bit. But he stopped keeping track and stopped talking about it right around the start of 2003. This part I can’t verify, but I feel confident enough to say it anyway: it was right around that time that he started to have feelings for you. It’s like the contest and other girls became unimportant in comparison to you.”

She didn’t seem to have heard the last part. “Why didn’t he tell me?” she asked.

I didn’t answer that because I didn’t know. “Well, did you tell him everything you’ve ever done?” I asked, turning it back on her.

That made her even more distressed. “I haven’t done anything, though. You know that and he knows that.”

I sighed again. “The last thing I do know is that he hasn’t…done that final step. That’s something you two have in common. Maybe someday you’ll both be ready to lose your virginity together.”

She was silent. “I don’t know,” she said and at first, I wasn’t sure what she meant. “I don’t know about that,” she repeated. “I don’t feel like I have the right to that anymore.”

I sat up and stared at her. “Are you saying that you don’t think you’re a virgin?” She shrugged. “Haley. Virginity is something you give someone, not something that someone takes from you. You didn’t give that to anyone, so you can still say you’re a virgin.”

She sniffled for a moment but didn’t reply to that statement. “I just don’t know,” she said again, but the look on her face was different this time. “I don’t know if I can trust Jordan after this. I mean, I don’t have a problem with him having girls go down on him in the past. Just the fact that he totally and completely lied about it.”

I shrugged at her. “I can’t answer that for you, although I will point out that, until Adam said that, you were one-hundred percent team Jordan,” I said frankly. “You really need to talk to him. And, because I know you, I’d like to point out that it will not help things if you go in looking to pick a fight.”

Hay managed a small smile in response to that. “But I’m itching for a really good fight, now that I’m no longer enemies with anyone,” she joked, but then her face sagged. “Maybe I should just have taken my mom up on her offer,” she sighed.

“What offer was that?” I was still leaning over her in a semi-menacing manner, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“She wanted to take me to the gyno and get some birth control.” Hay scrunched up her face. “You know my mom. Hope for the best and plan for the worst.”

“And would you having sex with Jordan be a best or a worst?”

She actually laughed. “By. We’re talking about my mom here. In her mind, I’m still ten.” I was going to reply to that but she turned serious again. “You know, I can’t say that I’m thankful about what happened to me back then or anything. But I’m thankful for who it changed me into.”

I shifted so that I was slightly lower, on one elbow. “What exactly do you mean by that?” I asked her, genuinely curious.

Hay’s brown eyes shone up at me. “I won’t say I was on a crash course when I was younger, but there wasn’t much I wouldn’t try if someone offered me the opportunity. I think that, if I hadn’t been…you know…I might have been a little slutty. Not stealing someone’s boyfriend and getting pregnant slutty,” she paused and I rolled my eyes, knowing she was referring to her favorite television show again. “But I definitely would not be seventeen and not have done anything. And I don’t just mean sex either.” She smiled a little bit. “You and your rules made me want to be a little more cautious in life. I think that if you hadn’t been around, I probably would have smoked some cigarettes and a few joints and probably had sex in the back seat of some guy’s car this weekend. Instead, I had a picnic with Jordan and Matt on the living room floor yesterday.” Her grin became bigger. “I think that if Jordan and I had hooked up in that alternate universe, I’d be just another notch on his bedpost.”

“A few more points on his scorecard,” I added.

“Exactly. And while me getting raped had a lot to do with that, I could have totally gone the other way and become a crazy boyfriend stealing whore, too. But you’re the reason I didn’t do that. So thank you.”

I lay back down beside her and enveloped her in a hug and she closed her eyes. I could almost have fallen asleep like that—although I am much more careful about where I fall asleep since the debacle at Jeff’s—but she popped her eyes back open and looked at me. “I know now’s not a great time,” she said seriously, “but you never did tell me what happened with you and Jeff on Independence Day.”

I should have seen it coming; to be honest, I was really surprised that she had waited several weeks to bring it up. I propped myself up and returned the look. “Do you want a video, Hay, or will a timeline of events do?”

She started to really smile. “There’s a video? Ooh, kinky.”

I ignored that. I’d promised to keep her updated on my (alleged) sex life some weeks back, something I’d regretted almost instantly. “Well,” I said, stretching out a pause until she sat up and leaned forward. “I just…” I knew I was blushing and I couldn’t get any words out after that.

Hay inspected me. “Must have been amazing to get this type of reaction out of you,” she said. I just nodded. “Well, since you seemed to have lost the power of speech, how about we play Twenty Questions?” I shook my head at her but she pressed on. “Did you guys take your shirts off? How about your pants?” I didn’t reply but instead looked away and she took that as all the answer she needed. She made a high-pitched squeal. “C’mon, By, how far did it go?”

I found my voice. “Give me a break, Hay.” She just cocked her head and gave me a look that said she was never going to let this go. “Okay, okay. One detail and that’s it.” I leaned over, as if there were someone else who might hear. “I’m not at thirty-seven, but I can start a count, okay?”

“Thirty-seven,” Hay said, sounding amazed. “Do me a favor. Try to keep your count lower than that, okay?” She grinned.

“You do me a favor, then. Try to go easy on my brother when you talk over his past with him, hmm? Don’t tear him a new asshole or anything.”

Hay wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure I can completely promise that. All I can say for certain,” she said, more relaxed than when the topic had first come up earlier but not as calm as when she’d been just a few seconds before, “is that I won’t give him any worse than he deserves.”

The problem was that that was exactly what I was afraid of.

I know you’re an emotional girl It took a lot for you to not lose your faith in this world I can’t offer you proof But you’re going to face a moment of truth Billy Joel, Matter of Trust

Jordan

I can’t explain what it is, but something about walking into Kitchen & Bath gives me the creeps.

It’s not that most of the employees are women, or even that the store is full of giggling brides registering for china patterns and choosing color schemes. Unlike Adam, I want to get married someday, put together a home and have a couple kids. I think my apprehension is closer to the fact that I’ve heard so many stories about some of the employees that I was afraid to say something that might give away what Haley and Byron had been saying about them.

As goofy as it sounds, I actually stood outside the doors and took a couple deep breaths before I braved going in. Just as I thought I might be able to handle going inside, Jeff came out. He was wearing a lightweight jacket with the collar turned up—it was at least ninety out—and his head was down, but it was definitely him. I sighed in relief at seeing a familiar face. “Yo, Schafer!” I called as he walked down the sidewalk toward the next store.

Even though I know he had to have heard me, he didn’t even look up; he just got into the car with his stepdad. I stood there gaping as they drove off. What the fuck was the matter with him these days? No wonder Byron had been moping around the house like the weight of the world was on his shoulders recently.

After that little snub, I figured I could handle just about anything—even the giggling brides. I squared my shoulders and walked inside the store. It was Tuesday, just before rush hour, so not exactly their busiest time. Haley was scheduled off in about twenty minutes, but I wanted to catch her while she was still on the clock so she didn’t slip by me unseen. I wanted to surprise her. Tips had been good the last week or so, and I wanted to take her somewhere nice for dinner. I’d even dressed up—Byron had loaned me a pair of khakis and I’d found an unworn button down shirt in the back of my closet. Hell, I’d even ironed.

The china department that is Haley’s home base was in the back of the store. I didn’t really look at the merchandise as I walked back there. Mom was going to bring Adam and me back here tomorrow to do college shopping. I had a feeling she would want to look in every department. I didn’t see what the fuss was—get me some sheets, a blanket, a couple towels and some way to feed myself and I’d be set.

The china caught my attention though. In a family with eight kids, we use plastic dishes most of the time. I don’t think I’d ever seen fancy china before. The first set I saw cost almost one hundred fifty dollars for one person to eat. I don’t think all the dishes in my house would add up to that much money.

I must have looked really out of place because nearly the second I set foot into the department, a snooty looking woman swarmed on me. She was middle aged and had blonde hair that had to be dyed that way—no one’s hair is naturally that shade. I knew who she was before she even got close enough for me to read her nametag. So this was the infamous Joanie. “Are you shopping for a wedding gift, or are you looking to register today?” she asked.

“No thank you,” I said politely.

Joanie took a real look at me and did a double take. She went to say something but shook her head. “You must be Byron’s brother,” she said finally.

I always forget that not everyone knows that I’m a triplet. Just about everyone important in my life knows, and while it’s not one of the first things I usually tell new people, it usually comes out before too long. Either Byron didn’t feel the same way about it, or he just hadn’t had occasion to talk to Joanie enough to mention it. If it was the second, I really didn’t blame him. “I guess I must,” I replied.

She gave me an odd look. “If you’re looking for him, he works up front,” she said. “However, I don’t believe he’s here today.”

I shook my head. “I’m not looking for him. Is Haley working?” It was a stupid question because I knew she was there. Her car was outside and she always tells me her work schedule.

Joanie paused. “Is that H-a-y-l-e-i-g-h or H-a-i-l-e-e?” she asked.

What the hell? “Neither. H-a-l-e-y.”

She looked confused. “I don’t believe we have a Haley with that spelling.”

It was my turn to be confused. I thought for a moment about it and had a revelation. “I think you’d know her as Hay,” I finally said.

“Oh, Hay,” Joanie said. “I sent her to clean some shelves. She should be in duvets.”

There wasn’t exactly a map of the store in front of me. “And where would that be?”

She sighed. “Go straight down this aisle and it’s on your right. There’s a sign.”

Those weren’t the most helpful directions ever, and then when I finally found duvets, Haley wasn’t even there. I wandered around for a little while before I found her sitting on the floor in the sheet room, surrounded by satin sheets. She was wearing her pinstriped “work pants” with a really pretty lavender button-down shirt I’d never seen before. Most of her shirts are brighter colors—primaries and bright pinks and purples—and this made her look older. She’d also pulled her hair out of her eyes to one side in a clip with a metal rose on it. “Hey,” I called from the main aisle.

She looked up sharply and I could tell I had surprised her after all. “What are you doing here?” she asked me. She sounded a little disgruntled.

I ignored the tone. “Looking for you. What are you doing?”

She held up a spray bottle and some filthy paper towels. “Cleaning the shelves,” she said in a monotone.

I looked at the towels she was using as she went back to scrubbing. “I’m not sure how clean those shelves are coming if your paper towels are that dirty,” I observed.

“Hmm,” Haley said as she did one last swipe. She turned her eyes up to me and they looked sad. “What did you want, Jordan?” she asked.

I was back to feeling confused. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was mad at me. “I wanted to take you out to dinner,” I told her.

She shook her head slowly. “I’m not feeling up to it today,” she said. She tossed her rag down and began putting sheets back on the shelf, using the actions as an excuse to break eye contact.

Something must be very off if she was turning down an offer of free food. “What’s the matter?” I asked, squatting down beside her.

Haley pulled more sheets off the next shelf and answered without looking back at me. “Nothing. I’m just tired and dirty and have a headache. I don’t feel like going out to eat.”

I stood up and took a step back, looking her over. She glanced over at me warily. I could tell just from the way she was holding herself—she’d purposely turned her back toward me so that she was looking over her shoulder—that there was more going on than she was letting on. She only does that when she’s trying to protect herself from something. “Something’s bothering you. I can tell,” I told her. She didn’t reply. “You told me once,” I said slowly, “to never lie to you because you’d always know.”

Something flashed across her eyes and then it was gone. She grabbed a roll of paper towels and ripped off a few fresh ones savagely, tearing across the towel instead of on the perforations. “Well, it definitely didn’t stop you, did it?” she asked quietly as she picked up her spray bottle.

Okaaaay. I had absolutely no idea what was going on. I stopped and ran through our recent conversations and found nothing that could be construed as a lie. I’d worked a double at the Rosebud yesterday, so we hadn’t spoken. And Sunday had been absolutely amazing. I’d had her all to myself all morning and afternoon. She’d been all smiles when I’d left her. “What does that mean?” I finally asked.

Haley sighed and started wiping down the shelf. “Go home, Jordan,” she said, not answering my question. “I’m supposed to be working. I have to finish this whole row before I can leave. I’ll talk to you later.” With that she got up on her knees and turned her back to me entirely, letting me know the conversation was over whether I liked it or not. And it was definitely a ‘not.’

What’s a guy supposed to do, though? I watched her for a moment more, suddenly feeling incredibly sad. I walked back up the aisle—in the opposite direction from the way I’d come in—and got back in the car. As I started the engine, I could feel frustrated tears burning my eyes, but I pushed them back down. Unlike a certain brother of mine, I try to keep that kind of thing private.

I’m surprised I didn’t get a speeding ticket on the way home. I can’t say how fast I was driving, but I got home a lot quicker than I got to Stoneybrook Corners in the first place. I parked the car in its usual spot and headed into the kitchen. Mom was in there alone, making dinner. She frowned at me. “I thought you were taking Haley out for a night on the town,” she said.

“I thought so, too.”

Mom winced on my behalf. “Uh-oh,” she said. “Want to tell me about it?”

“I would,” I said as I opened the fridge, pulling out a container of orange juice, “if I knew what the matter was. I think she’s mad at me, but I don’t know why.”

Mom nodded sympathetically. “Well, you know about girls, Jordan. They don’t process information the same way guys do. You could have said or done something you thought was totally innocent, and she could have taken it in a completely different way than it was intended.” I opened the cabinet and pulled out a glass, and she gestured at me to grab another for her. “Take Vanessa, for example,” Mom said.

I poured two glasses of juice. “Do I have to?” I asked, wrinkling my nose.

Mom swatted me with her spatula. “Your sister is not that bad,” she insisted.

“If you say so.”

Mom ignored that one. “She and Nick kept getting into those fights over privacy. Once Vanessa actually sat Nick down and explained to him what she meant by respecting her privacy, he was better able to do it, so they stopped fighting.”

“Or,” I suggested, “he was better able to hide when he wasn’t respecting her privacy so she didn’t catch him at it.” I drained my juice.

Mom sighed. “There’s that, too.” She picked up her juice and sipped it. “In any case, if Haley’s mad at you, you need to get her to tell you what’s wrong. And if she’s anything like most girls, you’ll probably need to act like the whole thing is all your fault and promise to never do it again…even if you don’t think you actually did it in the first place.” It was my turn to sigh. Mom turned back from the stove. “Are you going to join us for dinner?”

I shook my head. “No. I’m going to go try to talk to Haley again soon. She should be home within half an hour.”

“Then you have just enough time to set the table for me before you head over there,” Mom said.

I grimaced. “How many?”

She thought for a moment. “It’s a small crew tonight. Adam’s at Shane’s, but he says if Tiffany calls, I’m supposed to call him right away. Vanessa went to Charlotte’s. Margo’s still at camp, but Claire should be home soon and Mal is around somewhere.” She paused and added pepper to whatever she was cooking. “Who am I missing?”

I thought about that. “Nick and Byron.”

“Right. Is it Tuesday or Wednesday?”

“It’s Tuesday.”

“Okay, so Nick should be home. But Byron is having dinner at Jeff’s. He called it ‘family dinner’ and seemed really nervous.” Mom looked at me meaningfully. “Dinner with the parents. Big deal time.”

I whistled. “Yeah, that’s serious.” I gathered up a stack of plates.

“Yup,” Mom agreed. She watched as I puttered around for a moment before she spoke again. “So when you and Haley get things straightened out, I want you to bring her by for dinner one night.” I stopped and stared at her. “I told Byron the same thing before he left. We’ll pick a time when there aren’t too many siblings around—maybe next week when Claire is off at camp—and you can either do two separate nights or invite them at the same time.”

I gathered all the dishes and walked away from her. “Maybe,” I said, uncertain.

She followed me out of the kitchen. “What’s the matter?”

I shrugged. “I feel like inviting her to dinner is a bit like torturing her.”

Mom shook her head. “Jordan, Haley’s eaten with us before, many times over. She’ll survive.”

I set out silverware. “But this would be different,” I suggested. “It won’t be the same as her coming as someone’s friend. This is me declaring that I love her and consider her family.”

Mom raised her eyebrows but didn’t say anything about my phrasing. “We won’t treat her any differently, though.”

“Weren’t you the one who just said it didn’t matter how we intended it, but how she takes it?” I said.

Mom grinned. “You’re a smart young man.”

I finished the table and gave Mom a peck on the cheek. “I want to catch her before she gets home. Let’s see how this conversation goes before I commit us to a Pike family dinner, okay?”

I beat Haley to her house, but just barely. No one else was home, which was for the best. I sat down on her back stoop and waited. I occupied my mind by going over my whole history with Haley, from the moment we’d first kissed. I’d done that before at night to help me fall asleep, and it always calmed me down and gave me good dreams. I’ve never told anyone that though. I’d hate to get a reputation as a secret romantic—though I’m afraid it might be accurate.

Haley came home only a few minutes later, before I had a chance to finish our story. I stood from the stoop as she got out of her car. This time, she didn’t seem surprised to see me. “I knew I’d find you here,” she said glumly.

She moved toward the door and I scooted out of her way. Haley unlocked the door and went in and, for a moment, I thought she was going to slam it in my face. Instead, she held it open wordlessly and I followed her into the kitchen.

She dropped her purse—not the big one she’d taken to Maine but a wallet on a cord—on the counter and sat down, eying me warily. I remembered what Mom had said about how her mood could be the result of a simple miscommunication and decided to get straight to the point. “I don’t know what I’ve done to make you so upset, but please tell me so I can fix this.”

I think I surprised her a bit—like she’d expected me to blame her and her crazy hormones for all our problems, whatever they might be. She quickly shifted gears. “Did By or Adam talk to you about Sunday?” she asked.

What the fuck? What did that have to do with anything? “No,” I said slowly. “I haven’t spoken to Adam since then, and all Byron’s told me today was that we were out of toilet paper in the bathroom.”

Haley nodded but didn’t say anything. I sat down next to her and eyed her. She looked away and bit her lip. “What is this about?” I asked again.

She wrapped her arms around herself in another protective gesture and answered without looking at me. “What’s this I hear about you and other girls?” she asked quietly.

“Other girls?” I was bewildered. “I haven’t even looked at another girl since I kissed you. What makes you think I have?”

“No. I know that.” Haley finally looked over at me but I couldn’t read her expression. “I’m talking about girls you dated before me. The ones you got naked with and ‘had a good time?’” She held my gaze for longer than I was comfortable with.

I looked away first. “What about them?” I asked, and now it was my turn to look uncomfortable.

“How come you never mentioned them before? How come you never mentioned that you’d done that with girls before?”

I took a deep breath. “I thought you knew,” I told her. She threw her arms up in the air and I knew she was about to go off, so I finished that thought. “I thought everyone knew. There were so many stories going around school.” It wasn’t exactly my finest moment, but I’d spent awhile in the center of the school’s rumor mill. I hadn’t minded at the time, because I was sixteen and stupid. Being “a jock” and “a stud” were two of the biggest things that make kids popular, and it was one of the easiest ways I could find to get people to notice me. It had taken me a while to realize that it wasn’t a good way to get people to notice me.

Despite the hand gestures, Haley was a lot calmer than I expected. She put her hands on the bottom of her shirt and balled it up in her left hand, then twisted it around. She only does that when she’s distressed, but it could have been much worse. Normally she’s prone to solid histrionics. “How would I know about what everyone was saying? I’ve never exactly been part of the gossip chain, have I? Who would tell me stuff? Byron? When’s the last time you heard him gossip?” She laughed unhappily. “He won’t even talk about himself that way most of the time.”

As she spoke, I realized it was the truth. I know Byron hears a lot of gossip and stories— you can’t sit at our table at lunch and not hear a lot of bullshit about who’s doing what to whom—but I’d never heard him repeat any of those stories to anyone. I don’t think he believes half of them are true (and for a number of the guys we hang out with, most of them probably aren’t true anyway). And until we got together, I’d barely seen her hang out with anyone else. I tried to look her in the eyes, but she was looking at the hem of her shirt. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed anything. I just…” I paused and she actually looked up at me. “Those weren’t exactly my proudest moments. I don’t really like talking about it, so I guess I figured that if I presumed you knew, we’d never have to have this discussion.”

Haley let go of her shirt. It was rumpled and wrinkled and looked like hell. She was still looking at me, though I expected her to break eye contact again any moment. “I guess I can understand that,” she said slowly, “because I have stories that I don’t like to tell either.”

That surprised me too. Not that she had things she didn’t like to talk about—I’d already encountered one topic which she’d promised to talk about later and never had—but that she was going to be understanding about what she considered lying. That topic she never wanted to talk about involved her getting raped. I don’t blame her because I’m sure it’s a very unpleasant memory. But it also seems to me that she has a hard time trusting anyone on anything because of it. She seems to feel like I’m going to lie to her around every corner or do something to break her already fragile trust. I’d never wanted to do that to her—but I’d managed to do it anyway. “Well, we’re talking about this now. We might as well exhaust the subject. What did you want to know?”

She raised her eyebrows. “How many?”

I sighed. “If we’re talking about the same thing, then seven.” She cocked her head to one side. Her hair was slipping out of the rose clip and it fell in front of her eyes. Out of instinct I reached over and tucked it behind her ear. I expected her to flinch or pull away, but she didn’t. Maybe she was tougher than I thought—or maybe she was just less mad at me than she’d seemed.

“Seven,” she repeated quietly. “Seven girls.” I nodded miserably. Haley stood up and went to the fridge, which she opened without a word. She came back and set a cola in front of me and opened her own drink. She doesn’t drink anything with caffeine after noon because she says it keeps her awake at night. Today she had a cheapo store-brand strawberry soda.

We drank quietly for a while. I was waiting for her start up again because I wasn’t naïve enough to assume she was done interrogating. I had almost finished my drink when she finally spoke again. “Why?” she asked.

“Why what?” I had no idea what she meant.

Haley gave me the look she usually reserves for Byron when he’s being especially dense about something. She set her can down and I reached out and took her hand. She let me. “Why them?” she asked, the question she didn’t say hanging in the air.

Guys and girls might communicate differently, like my mother says, but I understood the hidden question right away. She wanted to know why I would…in her own words, ‘get naked and have fun with’…other girls but not with her. I decided to answer that instead of what she really asked. “Haley, you’re not even ready to take your top off for me. I respect that. You told me when we first got together that we’d make all our decisions on stuff together, and so far that’s worked great for us. Those other girls,” she looked up at me, waiting for the rest of that, “they were ready for that. In fact, I had to stop some of them from going farther.”

She pulled her hand back from mine, not fast and angry, but slowly. She placed it briefly on her forehead and then pulled it back down toward her heart, almost like she was about to say the Pledge of Allegiance. Something changed in her expression, though, but I couldn’t read her. “Well,” she said after a moment, running her fingers around the top button on her shirt, which was undone, “what if I just take my shirt off now? Then we don’t have to worry about my hang ups anymore.” She worked her fingers to the second button and started to undo it before she even stopped talking.

I didn’t even think about it; I just reached out and stopped her. “Honey, don’t.”

Haley looked unhappy with me. “Why not? Give me one good reason why not.”

My hand was still on top of hers, just over her heart. “With those other girls, there was no future. I went out with them for a couple weeks or months and then we were done. I don’t want this relationship to be like that, so we have time. I want you to be sure before you do something, because you can never take that back.”

Her body gave an involuntary shudder and I thought she was about to cry, but she just shook her head. “I may never be completely sure about anything. Some times when we’re together, I feel like I’m ready to do anything. Then a few minutes later, I’m afraid of everything.”

I put my other arm around her and put my hand on the back of her neck. “I know,” I told her quietly. “None of this is fair to you. It’s not your fault.”

She sniffled. “But it’s really not fair to you, either.”

I shrugged. “I’m in for the long haul, if you’ll have me. I can put up with any ups and downs you may have.”

Haley squeezed me back and I let go of the hug. “Are you sure about that? I worry that things may get worse as time goes on and the things I’m worrying about get bigger.” She sat back down and picked up her soda, which was still half full. “Like what if you take my pants off someday and I just flip out on you?”

“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it, okay?”

She sighed. “Let me tell you something, Jordan. You’re the first guy I’ve so much as kissed in almost three years. The last guy I trusted was completely the wrong person. I went out with him three times and on the third one, he refused to listen to me. He held me down while I screamed and did what he wanted, not what I wanted.” I sat beside her and nodded. “I can’t really compare that to the kind of rape most people think of, because thankfully that’s never happened to me. But I somehow think that this is worse. Walking down the street and being snatched is one thing but when you voluntarily get in the car with someone who treats you like that, it is so much worse.”

I thought about that. “You feel like it is a commentary on your judgment,” I interpreted.

She looked surprised. “Yes. Exactly.”

“I know you’re not going to believe me,” I told her, “but that doesn’t say anything about you at all. It’s all him. You had the sense to tell him to stop when you wanted to stop. Anything that happened after that is about him being a raping son of a bitch and nothing else.”

Haley almost smiled. “What did I do to deserve you standing up for me like this?” she asked.

I put a hand on the side of her face. “You kissed me,” I said. She actually did smile after that. We sat like that for a moment. “Where are your parents?” I asked.

She thought a moment. “Mom works late on Tuesdays, but Daddy should be home any minute. Before he comes home, can I tell you something?” I nodded. “When Adam first mentioned you and other girls, I was so mad at you. I thought you were a liar and a hypocrite. But I realized I couldn’t say much about it because it was before. I have no claim on that time.”

“Honey,” I said, “I am sorry that I didn’t mention it to you. It wasn’t fair to have it be a surprise from someone else.” She reached for my hand this time. “You might not have any claims to my past, as you say, but you can claim my present, and if you want it, you can have my future.”

Haley had a small smile playing on her face. “And next time we’re alone together—when my dad isn’t on his way—we can see what I’m ready for now. I’ll wear this shirt again and maybe you can unbutton it for me.”

I smiled back at her. “I’d consider that an honor.” She perked up and I kissed her once, gently.

Haley ran a hand through my hair. “Daddy’s probably bringing home a pizza. Want to stay?”

“Extra time with you? Do you even have to ask?” She laughed. “Listen, I’m going to go to the bathroom.” I stood up and caressed her shoulder before I walked off.

I silently climbed the stairs and quickly used the bathroom. Before I went back down I paused to straighten out the collar on my shirt. I don’t know how Byron stands to wear these stupid button downs every day. But after I got myself straightened out, I realized I was looking straight into Haley’s bedroom.

She usually keeps the door closed, so I’d never seen it before. I couldn’t help but be a little bit nosy. I stood in the doorway and looked around. The first thing I was struck by was the fact that everything was so white. Haley’s a colorful girl—she’s loud, she wears bright shades and she’s not afraid to cuss like a dude. I would have expected the walls to be something she picked out when she was a kid—a bright raspberry pink, for example. But the walls were white, the furniture was mostly white and the bedding was pure white. There was even a stuffed lamb in the middle of her pillows that looked like she’d had it since she was a baby. It was an oasis of calm.

The second thing was the one blank wall. Her bed lay against one wall, and a desk and window took up most of another. The third wall held a dresser and closet door. But the wall next to the door was completely devoid of furniture. It did, however, have a purpose. The words ‘Be the change you wish to see in the world,’ were scrawled across it in big letters. At first I thought Haley had written on the paint until I saw a place where the surface was torn and realized it was a giant sheet of butcher paper. In various sizes and places all over the paper she’d written the kind of things you’d find on inspirational posters and greeting cards. It seemed to me that any time she’d seen a message she wanted to remember, she’d recorded it on her wall.

I took a closer look, carefully stepping inside her door. As I was reading all the messages, I realized they weren’t all in Haley’s writing. Byron had written a few of them himself. I saw one in his handwriting that said, ‘My life is a work in progress.’

I wanted to add something heartwarming and uplifting to her wall, but I found I didn’t really have words that were good enough for her. I stood there for longer than I should have—if her dad caught me in her room, I’d be in trouble with both him and Haley—but I really wanted to be part of that wall. I could tell in meant a lot to her.

Finally I found a message that came straight from the heart. I picked up a Sharpie from on her desk and scrawled the message in a corner in small but readable writing. Just as I finished, I heard the back door open and Haley greeted her father. I quickly put the marker back and crept out of her room, joining the two of them in the kitchen.

#bsc fanfic

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