Chapter Three- No Title WORK IN PROGRESS
I sat in my driveway for a few extra minutes, listening to my radio and staring at the slip of paper in my hand. I need, I need a hand to hold. To hold me from the edge, the edge I’m sliding over slow- I heard the girl from the band SuperChic[k]’s voice slide over the drums and guitars in background. I studied the paper in my hand intensely, as if it would suddenly become sand and slip through my fingers. Studying the handwriting as hard as my eyes would allow me before starting to water, I sat back in my seat.
Everything had happened so fast. Today, yesterday… I wasn’t quite sure what had sparked between Cash and I, but something was already there. It was a little more than friendship, but it wasn’t exactly love. Not yet. We had to have more time to get to know each other. I couldn’t stop thinking about yesterday. Or the next day, to think about it. Anticipation and hope filled me as I thought about my nine o’clock studio time.
I was a dancer at heart. Ballet was my real life. It was where I didn’t have to pretend to care about sex or drugs. My sanctuary away from the church. It was my prayers every Saturday. I had started last year, my junior year, and discovered that I was a natural at it. Ballet became my sport. It was my passion now. Actually, recital time for me was alone time with the mirror lined room and every third Saturday, my coordinator, and sometimes a whole class. I learned fast, doing advanced moves only months after I began classes. I began to long for my ballet shoes and my leotard.
Before I got too caught up in my thoughts, I folded the piece of paper and stuck it in my pocket. I unbuckled my seatbelt and pulled on the door handle to open the car door. Stepping out, I placed a hand on the roof to steady myself as my vision went black from standing up so quickly. I retrieved my backpack from the back seat, shouldering it with ease.
When I opened the door to the kitchen from the garage, I instantly saw my mother standing at the counter, her usual Friday after-school position. I couldn’t avoid her. She stood on the opposite side of the counter from the door, just in the right spot to see me whenever I walked in. Sometimes, this was fully annoying.
“How was school today, honey?” This was usually where I lied, saying something like “I’m fine” or “Okay”. Usually my Fridays were full of high school drama, like today’s lunch where Jessica accused a girl of sleeping with her boyfriend (There was no evidence, so she just hammered harder at the girl she hated that day). Now I had some good news, but I wouldn’t tell her all of it.
“Fine. I made friends with someone.”
“Really? Who?” My mother leaned forward on the counter, the classic I-want-to-know-more mother poses. She hit it just perfectly, her red hair tumbling down her shoulders and onto the countertop beneath. I could barely look her in her emerald eyes. I suddenly pondered why Haley had our mother’s hair and eyes and still the polar opposite beliefs.
“Oh, some boy.” I mumbled, eager to leave the kitchen, but not before I raided the cabinets for some Oreos. While I was reaching for the half empty bag, my mother spoke again.
“Oh…” Her voice was slightly strained now, worried. “What’s he like?”
“He’s nice. We chatted during art class, and decided that we should be friends.” That wasn’t exactly the truth, but I didn’t need my mother calling on my father, the wall of muscles, to go squeeze the life out of a boy that had actually rescued me from getting kissed by the jerk who had left a second note in my locker that day. My father wanted me to be the perfect child, as did my mother. He was deeply in love with my mother, Caroline Summers, enough to do whatever she asked him. It was complicated when it came to who loved the second child.
“Hm… I’d like to meet him someday. What’s his name?”
“Cash. Cash Roberts.” With that, I snatched the Oreos from the cabinet and bolted out of the kitchen, calling back that I had to do my homework. When I finally got all the way upstairs, I shut the door to my study room behind me, since my sister was sleeping on her cot in my room.
I walked over to the desk in the back of the room, setting my cell phone down beside my laptop computer, and making sure it was plugged in. I did the same with my computer before I opened it and pressed the power button. I pulled the piece of paper from my pocket again. When my computer was finally finished starting up, I opened a Word document and proceeded to type in Cash’s number and address. I clicked the “save as” button and named it Cash. I saved it in a folder hidden in the depths of the computer’s storage system. My mother tended to use my laptop if hers wasn’t working. I didn’t want her to find his phone number and embarrass me by calling him and interviewing him like she did with a boy from last year (he had moved this year).
Done with that, I sat back in my chair, running my fingers along the crease in the paper. It was stained with blue fingerprints. I found myself smiling, remembering that just the day before, it would have been purple paint that would have stained it. I felt sad that I had to hide it from my parents. I could feel my inner teenager struggling against the fences my parents had put up. I sighed heavily, longing to just take my ballet shoes and run to the studio, or the church, which had an excellent gym on the top floor for dancing.
“Chrystal?” By the tone of my father’s voice, I could tell that trouble was abroad. What had I done wrong now? I almost expected him to be furious for something minor that would possibly change the course of my future career. “There you are.”
My father was a big man. His shoulders were broader than the football players’ shoulders, and his muscles were defined from years of managing a training service and a local gym. He had black hair like me, but his eyes were dark brown. I wondered why my eyes were blue, but nobody else’s eyes were blue.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were switching classes?” Oh shoot. I thought I had told my mother, who told him everything. “What happened to English?”
“I took a test, and I passed. It’s that simple, Dad.” I was tempted to call him “Father” which identified the fact that our relationship wasn’t as tight as the next family’s. I turned to face him, stuffing Cash’s paper in my pocket as I swung around. My father looked skeptical, a little irritated even.
“What did you just stick in your pocket?” I held myself back from rolling my eyes.
“A piece of paper.” This was true, but I wasn’t going to tell him that some boy who they had never heard of before had given me his number today. Everyone always made it into such a big deal. He still looked uneasy, but left my door open. So inconsiderate. I sat back, though, telling myself that my dad really did care about me as a person, but I knew this as a lie.
***
I awoke, groggy and tired, the next morning. However, I was up and out of bed the minute my eyes were open. Even though I was dazed and exhausted from Haley chatting with her recent boyfriend all night long, I glanced at the clock. Eight o’clock. I had an hour before I needed to be in the dance studio to say hello to my coordinator and start practicing.
I stumbled into the shower, letting the water beat at my skin before I really started to clean myself. Within twenty minutes, I was out and rigorously rubbing my wet hair with a towel. I had no time to blow-dry. I collected a hair band from my dresser drawer and a set of ballet clothes, including the pain-in-the-butt tights.
I literally ran to my car, tossing my dance bag into my passenger seat and sticking the keys into the ignition. I never really had the satisfaction of hearing a nice, clean engine start, but my old, rusty car would do for the time being. I was tempted to floor it on the way down my medium-sized driveway, itching to get to Jasmine’s Dance Studio.
Fifteen minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot of a big, old building in the center of town. I listened to the dead leaves beneath my sneakers crunch as I exited my car with my bag slung over my shoulder. Pushing the double doors open, I entered a familiar, old, run down building. The floor squeaked in some places, but I didn’t care. The well worn floors held a specific charm that couldn’t be ignored. I could almost see the memories of little girls dancing past me, like a movie with good special effects that were so realistic.
I ran a finger along the scarred wooden planks in the entryway walls, smiling. Jasmine’s had always aroused my curiosity, but it was only my junior year that I had finally made that one commitment that changed the way I looked at this place. I had been so surprised when my father had agreed to let me take the ballet lessons. Even I was shocked at how quickly I had become such a professional. But then, I had a love for this kind of thing.
Then I thought about Cash. His smile, his voice, telling me that he might stop by. What had me thinking about him so much? I shook my head and tried to focus on heading to the girl’s locker room in the back hallway of the main foyer. I greeted Miss Jasmine, the owner of the place and my coordinator. She smiled at me before turning back to her schedule on the wall.
“The upstairs studio is ready for you. Have fun, Chrystal.” I thanked her and went to the locker room to change. Before too long, I was climbing the winding staircase to the third floor studio. I suddenly stopped at the top, looking over the large wood floored room that I had glided across for a full summer. I watched my reflections staring back at me, each clad in the same powder blue, long sleeved leotard I was wearing. Her eyes stared into mine, and I smiled, watching her lips form the same bright smile.
I dropped my bag onto the worn floorboards. Then I took my shoes from it and sat down by the door and slipped them on, tying the ribbon with ease. I stood, heaving a big breath before tying the silky skirt around my waist. I walked to the center of the room and put my hands above my head in an O shape and my feet in an upside down L formation.
I leaped off the floor, feeling the air rush through my hair as I sailed across the worn wood a few feet to my left. Landing with barely a sound, I pulled my arms in and threw out a leg, causing me to spin a few times. I closed my eyes and listened to the wind whistle past my ears. I threw out my arms to slow myself and placed my foot on the floor again. I pulled off a marvelous arabesque, my arms stretched out to balance myself and my left leg stretched out behind me. I watched the mirrors with interest, gazing at this seventeen year old girl standing motionless on the toes of her right foot, the soft currents of air running through the building playing with the silky skirt wrapped around her waist. I still had trouble believing it was me.
Replacing my foot on the floor, I remained on my toes, bringing my arms back to the initial O shape I had started with. I lowered myself to the floor within a split second, bringing my right arm in front of me and gracefully running across the floor with light steps. Before I lost all momentum, I executed several fouetté turns, whipping myself around without too much of a flourish. For a finale of my little routine, I took a few more running steps before pushing myself off the ground, accomplishing a grand jeté while performing a split in midair. I landed gracefully with barely a sound.
Suddenly, the empty room was filled with the sharp implements of someone clapping. I turned to see Cash leaning against the doorframe, applauding with a smile on his face.
“That was cool.” He walked forward and looked around. “My mom’s teaching a class downstairs and I thought I’d explore a little. I’ve never been in this room.” He looked around, inspecting the mirror lined room with curiosity. He approached and stood next to me, his arms crossed across his chest. This time he was wearing a dark green shirt with the words “Art Rox!” printed on the front and some new blue jeans. I knew because they didn’t have holes torn in them.
“Victoria wasn’t kidding.” At this, I blushed hard. I loved to get praised as much as the other person, but I always seemed to get embarrassed, as if they had told me that it really sucked, when they’d said the opposite. Cash wasn’t really watching me directly. He was staring at the multiple reflections of both of us standing side by side.
“Cash…” I heard myself saying. He turned his head towards me and we stared at each other for a couple minutes. “I’m not quite sure what’s going on, really.”
“Me neither. Thursday, when you were cornered by that idiot, I was just thinking that I was doing a good deed…” He paused, sliding to the floor and crossing his legs Indian-style. “But… I can’t explain what happened either.” He looked away as I sat down next to him. I closed my eyes and leaned back onto my elbows, silent for a minute. Suddenly, I stood, walking over to my bag, and reaching in, I found my portable iHome. I had forgotten to plug it in by the door. I usually had some music I would dance to.
I attached my iPod and pressed the play button, sitting back for a second, letting the soft plunking of a piano swirl around me, almost tangible. Almost like I could touch each note. I didn’t bother to look back to where Cash was, him now lying on his back with his hands behind his head. I knew he was listening to the music already.
“You like this kind of music, don’t you?” I implored, watching his reflections in the mirrors. He rolled onto his stomach and was looking at me as I squatted by the music player.
“Yep. How’d you know?” He was smiling. What an odd boy. One day, he barely says anything to me at all after recuing me from Jeremy, and the next he and I are best friends all of a sudden. My head was still spinning from it.
“You were playing it during art, remember?” I stood again, crossing my arms. “Look, I have to practice. There’s a major show in the winter and I’m trying to get the main part. It’s just that important to me.” Cash didn’t argue, he just stood and plunked himself down by my iHome.
“No kidding. Go ahead. I won’t trip you.” In fact, he squeezed himself into the corner as if he was taking up way too much space. I laughed, putting myself in the same starting position as before, although this time, it would be improvised, not pre-planned with my coordinator. I wasn’t sure why I wanted to impress him, Cash, but I was sure that he would support me and our newfound friendship, so I just danced.
***
Nothing could prepare me for the sight that greeted my eyes when I entered the house. Cash and I had talked in between him watching me dance (all the while applauding me and telling me that he couldn’t dance like me at all. I believed him.). We talked about our winter art projects, our families, our lives, and decided that we had more in common than we had initially thought. Even though his parents were divorce, he had a mother who, just like mine, was extremely protective of him, mostly because he was an only child. His father didn’t want anything to do with him. My father didn’t want much to do with me, except feed me and make sure that I was getting marvelous grades. Cash and I both discovered that we were both Christians. By the end of my “alone time”, we were good friends. Fast.
But that conversation had nothing to do with setups.
When I walked into the kitchen from the garage, humming a song that had been on the radio a minute ago, I wasn’t expecting the sight unfolding in front of my eyes. Upon seeing me, my mother rushed forward and gave me a squeeze. I was apprehensive. What now?
“Oh Chrystal! We’ve found the most wonderful boy.” She hugged me tighter. Would she ever learn not to mess with my nonexistent love life? Last time she set me up with someone, they were just looking for a way to get my dad to hire him. I “dumped” him before my mother even knew that he had lied about being a nice Christian boy. What else can my parents destroy other than my social life? “He says he goes to your school.”
I followed my mother’s gaze into the living room archway. Two silhouettes were blocking my view of what would be the television behind them. One was much larger than the other. My dad. The other was definitely a football player of sorts. Which one, though?
“He’s so sweet!” My mother squeezed me one more time just as the two in the living room noticed I was home and entered the kitchen.
My heart stopped.
“This must be a mistake…” My voice carried a strained laugh with it, my throat constricting. But there was no mistaking his sly smirk for someone else’s. No, not the deep, dark green, hypnotic eyes, nor the shaggy, dark hair. Nope. He couldn’t be anyone other than Jeremy.
I pulled myself free from my mother’s tight grip, backing away slowly, very slowly, as if he would attack me. He was smiling, masking the evil glint in his eyes with what looked to be friendship.
“Hey Chrystal.” I was now closer to the door, my hand searching the thin air for the handle. There was no way he would leap on me now, in front of my parents, but I felt majorly threatened by him.
“Where you going, Chrissie?” My mother was looking confused, her mouth twisted in a frown. I couldn’t believe I took some of her advice. I mumbled something just before my fingers wrapped around the doorknob, pushing it open behind me.
“I’ll talk to her-“ That was the last I heard from Jeremy before I bolted out the door, my bag still across my chest. My feet pounded the ground, rhythmic, but not quite fast enough. Jeremy was gaining on me, but I dared not look back.
“Dangnabit girl!” He shouted after me as I was quickly gaining speed and pulling away from him. By then, my eyes were starting to water up, blurring my vision before I reached the end of my driveway. Why hadn’t I taken my car?
Jeremy was now stringing swear words together, with the occasional input of my name. Salty water was now streaming down my face, frustration and fear urging me on. I couldn’t let him catch me.
I was stronger than I had initially thought, for I was sprinting at full speed, already a hundred yards away from the end of the driveway. No thought entered my brain but one: Escape.
“Frick you, Chrystal!” From that distance, Jeremy’s voice was muted by cubic meters of air, not to mention the fact that I had put my hands over my ears to muffle the voice that was taunting me. Of course that voice was in my own head. I kept pounding my feet on the asphalt, a quick jarring motion that soon lulled my thoughts and I was a long ways down the road.
***
I’m not sure how long I had been running, or, more accurately, jogging by now, but at least an hour had passed since I had bolted from my house. Exhaustion was dragging my feet, my only fuel the burning frustration and rage in my heart and mind. The nerve. The idiotic, immature, fully rude, evil Jeremy. I felt hatred burn in my chest- and the lack of oxygen getting to my brain. I couldn’t think straight. My heart was pounding harder than ever, and it seemed as if I would never run out of tears.
Jeremy had quit running after me long ago, but I just couldn’t break myself away from the sweet music of the soles of my sneakers hitting the pavement. I was only halfway to town. I didn’t know where exactly I was heading, but the weight of my dance bag and my frustration was eating away at my already depleted store of energy. I knew I would collapse soon. I knew that running this long, that hard, was unhealthy. That I’d pass out some few miles from town.
Suddenly, the world began to swim before my eyes. This was it. I’d reached my limit. But my feet still hit the gravel path beside the road cutting through a field of grass, rhythmic with no notion of stopping. I was weaving, much, much slower than the rate I had started at, but still moving, moving foot by foot further from my house.
Nothing really tipped me off that someone was pulling up behind me, not even the sound of the engine puffing in the chilly September air, nor the crunch of the gravel beneath tires. All I could hear was the blood pumping in my ears-
-and somebody’s voice, calling out my name. The engine stopped and whoever it was parked behind me, stepping to the ground. By then, I was beginning to black out. A high pitched whine filled my ears, drowning out the person’s voice. I didn’t think to reach in my bag for the water bottle buried deep under the clothing. I collapsed, my bare knees hitting the gravel before I toppled over. The last thing I remembered was someone wearing a bright red jacket pulling me into his arms, and laying my head against his chest as he sat down.
***
When I opened my eyes, I didn’t know what to feel. Fear twisted in my gut like a living snake, making me go ridged for two seconds before I burst out crying again. Whoever was holding me pulled me closer, whispering.
“Shhh… I’m here now. Don’t cry. Shush…” He repeated the phrase several times before I calmed down enough to finally look him in the eyes.
And I stared. Cash drew me closer, oblivious to the fact that he was sitting cross-legged, with me in his lap, my head against his chest. Another sob erupted from me. I couldn’t help it. I was a mess already. There was no hiding my puffy red eyes, my pink nose, or the mascara running down my face. I buried my face into his red leather jacket.
Cash continued to hush me, trying to comfort me as I began hiccupping. It was quite embarrassing. Every once in a while, I would hiccup and blush. I was exhausted, so much so that I didn’t have the strength to speak.
I didn’t have to; for Cash picked me up (I was so glad my parents weren’t there to see that), and carried me over to his motorcycle. I could see his red helmet resting on his seat. I swallowed, suddenly feeling a mix of nervousness and curiosity. Plus a little embarrassment, but I was too tired to walk anymore, so I just rolled with it and relaxed a little.
“Do you know how to ride a motorcycle?” In fact, I did. My uncle had actually taught me how to ride last summer. It was better that I did know. I wasn’t sure how I would get home by walking. When I nodded, Cash set my feet on the ground, but kept his arm around my waist to support me and my weak legs.
He passed me his helmet with a smile. He was acting as if he hadn’t just seen me pass out in front of him. I shook these thoughts out of my head and pulled the full face helmet over my ears. I breathed in the scent of the mask, closing my eyes and wrapping my arms around Cash’s waist, holding on tightly. I barely heard the motorcycle roar to life.
Although instead of continuing towards my house (earlier, I had told where I lived. We were friends, and he had entrusted his address to me, so why not?), Cash turned around and roared down the road towards town. A few miles later, we were turning onto a dirt road that wound off to our right. We were still a mile or two from Downtown Plaza. I couldn’t see it because of the trees surrounding the town. Sometimes living in the northwestern parts of the eastern coast of the United States was lovely. Secluded and closed off from the rest of the world with the trees that were native to the rich soil.
Soon, we were ascending a driveway to a cute little house about two stories tall with a few trees dotting the rather large yard, mostly the backyard. I recalled Cash saying something about his father being a rich man, buying their house right before leaving his wife and his only son behind for some pretty girl halfway across the country (how they found each other, we have yet to figure out). Still, I was surprised. The roof was angled sharply upward, steep and hard slate gray. The outer walls looked as if it were made of old logs (although I knew it was just the plastic siding).
We rode up the gravel driveway, and I admired the marvelous lawn work, even if the grass was somewhat brown by now. The only ornaments that donned the rather flat landscape were a few rocks. I blinked as Cash cut the engine and swung his leg over to get off. I pulled the helmet off my head and gazed at the now regularly colored scenery. The helmet’s visor was tinted dark blue, so everything held a reddish tint for a few minutes as my vision readjusted.
I still hadn’t said anything. Tired, and wobbly, I allowed Cash to put my arm around his neck and to grip my waist to support as I stumbled along. He was as silent as I, yet, he was calm and as passive as ever, patiently matching his pace with mine. Not even the crunch of the gravel beneath my sneakers could distract me. I could feel my feet dragging. Cash continued to halt, catching me before I fell. If I hadn’t been so exhausted and depleted of sugars, I would have been so embarrassed. We soon reached the front door of his house. Letting me lean against him for support, he inserted a key and turned the lock, letting a quiet click ring through the air as he put his arm around me again.
The foyer area was moderately large. Larger than what it looked like from the outside. I looked up to see the second floor’s banister encircling the open space, protection from a young child falling twenty feet. A staircase lead up to a landing that did a 180 degree turn to continue to the second floor. The walls were painted beige, as to compliment the tan carpeting crawling up the staircase. The entryway lead to what looked like a dining room with a long, ancient table covered with a crimson red tablecloth. The chairs were ornate, and most likely someone’s family heirlooms. The tile floor made my shoes squeak as Cash helped me hobble in. I went to take them off, but Cash just leaned over and hoisted me up, as if I were light as a feather. Concern flitted in the corners of his dark eyes as I weakly wrapped my arms around his neck. I found myself blushing and trying not to look into his eyes. It felt awkward. I had only known this guy for three days, and he was carrying me up the stairs in his house.
I felt the heat of his breath on the top of my head, since I had laid my head against his chest in my exhaustion. The world was still swimming before my eyes when he entered the open doorway of a room at the very end of the hall that stretched perpendicular to the stairs, leading away from a large study that had a high, large window in the wall facing the road. Cash walked to the edge of a rather large bed, its comforter a pale blue, matching the color scheme of each shade of blue. He laid me there, stepping back politely.
“I’ll be right back,” was all he said before turning back towards the hallway. I scooted back to lean against the white headboard. I marveled at the canvases hanging from multiple hooks all over the room, each painted with such care, such grace…
“Hey.” I looked back to the door to find him carrying a small tray with a plate and a bowl of Cheerios. A glass of milk sat next to it, neat and orderly, as if he was a butler of sorts that just had to get it right. I blushed, but accepted the tray gratefully. Cash walked to the other side of the bed, my eyes following him as he circled the end of the bed to sit beside me.
“I-I-” I stuttered, the first sound that I had uttered to Cash ever since we left each other at the dance studio about an hour and a half ago. I squeezed my eyes shut, laying my hands on the tray, avoiding spilling the milk. My eyes snapped open when Cash’s warm hand overlapped mine. I raised my gaze to his eyes, which were so close to my own, only three inches apart.
“It’s alright. You’re scared, I know.” He pulled back a little, but keeping his hand on mine. “I was too. I was going for a quick joy ride, when I thought I saw you. You had your head down, and you were weaving.” He was watching me as I finally picked up a piece of cereal and nibbled on it. “Then I saw a blue car coming, and thought I saw Jeremy behind the wheel. Really, I guess it was good that I felt that I had to-“
“The nerve.” I muttered darkly around my Cheerio. Cash stopped and looked at me, confused. “The nerve of that blatant idiot.” He looked at me curiously, his hand still on mine. I swallowed my food, chasing it down with a tiny sip of milk.
“What’s wrong?”
My eyes were starting to tear up again, frustration raging deep in me. Clenching my fist beneath Cash’s hand clued him in on my aggravation. He leaned in closer, watching me intently, repeating.
“What’s wrong?”
I guess the rage was too much for me to bear silently. The milk was already gone by the time I started to choke out some words, but a sob cut my vocal chords off. Cash put the tray aside and pulled me close, the same way he had done when we were on the road. Only instead of just hushing me, he recited a verse from the Bible. One of my favorites, to be exact.
“Praise be to our God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles so we may comfort those in any troubles with the comfort we ourselves have received from God... ” He pulled back and pushed a salty sweat encrusted strand of hair away from my face. “Tell me what’s going on.”
I put my head on his shoulder and he didn’t recoil. If I wasn’t so drained and enraged, then maybe I would have rejoiced in the fact that Cash really cared. There was nothing sexual about how he approached me. There was only compassion and cheer. He was a real… friend to me.
“O-okay.” I was hiccupping again, a result of my tears. “W-when I got home. I-I found that my mother and father had ‘found’ a good guy for me t-to be with, but-“ I broke off, heaving a shuddering breath, trying to calm myself down again. “A-and this wouldn’t be the first t-time they had done this. T-they have been messing with m-my-“ There went a hiccup. “- social life. A-and the g-guy they had discovered w-was…”
In my desperation, I clutched Cash’s tee shirt, pulling him closer to me. I instantly felt my cheeks turn an instant rosy red, but the need to tell someone who cared overruled my shy instinct.
“It was him. He had lied to my mother, who believes that nobody lies, about being Christian-“ I looked up at Cash, who had a mix of concern and rage gleaming in his dark eyes. ”-and managed to convince her that he and I were close friends, even though I’ve vented to her how much I disliked him. All she did was hug me and tell me that they approved of us. Do you know what that means?!?” By then, my voice was raising in pitch, my hands balling his shirt up. “Jeremy can gain access to my house any time he wants.”
I pulled away from Cash, curling up into a tight ball.
“My life is ruined.”
Cash stayed on his side of the bed, either fuming or feeling pity for me, I didn’t know. He didn’t even smooth out his shirt. He just… sat there.
“Tell me why he’s so interested in you.”
“Huh?” I uncurled a little to find him running a hand through his hair, slightly flustered and possibly enraged. I couldn’t tell with the expression on his face, but his eyes were dancing and his teeth were clenched slightly.
“Why is Jeremy so interested in you?” He stared at the walls of his room, leaning back against the headboard. “And why do you hang out with those girls if you don’t really care?”
I blinked, startled at the suddenness of his questions… or maybe I just didn’t want to truly answer. It was moving into shifty territory, even for him.
I twisted to look at him, studying him, slightly surprised to find him staring at me intensely, his dark eyes bound to my blue ones. I couldn’t believe this was the guy who had suddenly taken me in as a friend, rescued me twice from Jeremy, and invited me into his personal space. He was a relatively passive guy, swinging with things easily, adjusting to whatever circumstances awaited him, and definitely with a slightly hidden sense of humor. It was hidden now.
“That-“ I paused, sighing with great remorse. “-can only be explained the long way.” He shifted, seemingly getting comfortable. He cocked his head, beckoning with his eyes. I sighed again, taking a second to gather the scattered pieces of last summer. It was impossible without digging up some guilt and nausea at my own memories.
“Chrystal?” I realized with a start that I had been silent for a few minutes, trying to piece together this puzzle that I had dismembered myself.
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