Breakable (24 page)

I
could do this. I could figure this out. Even if it meant hiding all night and
commandeering Mark’s car in the morning… I could do this.

But,
man, did I ever wish I didn’t have to.

Crushed
under the weight of the humiliation and aching to my bones with pain of being
so
alone
, I buried my face in my knees and sobbed.

I
didn’t care about the make up or the snot or whether anyone heard me. At that
point, I figured I couldn’t get any lower.

And
man, do I wish I’d been right.

I
have no idea how long I sat there. My head ran an endless loop of what I’d
heard and how impossible it would be to get out of this with my dignity intact.
But eventually the tears ran out and I was able to lift my head, resting it
against the white boards behind me.

I
was cold.

Tucking
my skirt up under my knees only helped so much – the sea breeze crept between
the boards to tickle up my legs, and slid from the sand across the skin of my
bare arms.

I
started to shiver, but I still couldn’t stomach the idea of facing anyone. It
felt like if I moved too fast, the pieces of me would split and fall away.

Then
someone called my name – male voices on the beach shouting for me. Adrenalin
pressed out of my heart into every goosebump and hair follicle. Dex obviously
realized I’d disappeared. But did he know why?

Shrinking
in harder against the house, I prayed the shadows would keep the searchers at bay
a while longer. I couldn’t talk to these people. What would I say?

Tears
pressed again when the silhouette of a guy rose from the dunes, a few feet away
from the porch.

The
closer he got, the sharper the shadow he cut through the gaps in the railings.
And the harder I prayed he wouldn’t see me.

He
stopped a few feet from the porch, peering between the trees and shouted
“STACE?!”

It
was Mark.

I
gasped and he whirled around, stumbling through the grass towards me. “Stace?”

When
he reached the railing, instead of running back to the stairs he gripped the
rail and pulled himself up like a swimmer on the edge of a pool.

In
one slow, easy movement he flipped his legs over and landed on the boards a few
feet away.

My
heart kicked.

 “Are
you okay?!” he rushed toward me, sliding to his knees at my side. I shushed him
and cringed in on myself, uncertain whether to be dismayed or elated he’d found
me.

“Seriously,
Stace, everyone’s looking for you. What happened?” He stumbled on the words,
one hand on my shoulder, his eyes searching my face in the dark.

“I-I…
I had to get away from… from
Dex
…” My voice sounded breathy and broken.

Mark
froze. “What did he do?” he said, deep and stilted, his fingers digging into my
shoulder.

I
looked up and met his eyes, looked at his mouth – slightly open, his lower lip
shoved forward – and I cracked. I spilled the whole stupid story about thinking
I might sleep with Dex because he was being my boyfriend, then overhearing him
talk to Belinda, and Finn’s words, and the way they all
laughed
. The
last parts came out in pieces between sobs.

Mark
didn’t move or speak the whole time. I only knew he was listening because his
fingers tightened when I talked about sleeping with Dex and what Finn said. I
leaned into him and cried and felt humiliated, but also so glad I didn’t have
to figure it out on my own anymore.

Then,
when I finished, Mark let out a huge breath. The tension fell off him like a
blanket.

“C’mere,”
he whispered, mouth twisted into a grimace.  Then he gathered me close and
stroked my back, speaking into my ear.

“I’m
sorry. I wondered, but he didn’t talk about you in front of me. And Finn didn’t
tell me… Man, he sucks.”

I
didn’t know if he meant Finn or Dex, but I nodded against his chest and inhaled
his sharp, intoxicating cologne. For the first time since I’d walked into this
hellhole, I felt warm.

Mark
held me. He wasn’t doing that thing guys do when a girl cries, where they put
an awkward arm around her and wish they were
anywhere
else. Mark
held
me – and muttered curses at the people who’d hurt me.

So,
when he sat back, it felt like the floor dropped out from under me. Cold air on
every side made my goosebumps rise again.

“Stacy,
look at me.”

Mark
squeezed my shoulders. Then he moved to tip my chin, forcing my head up. “Look
at me.”

My
chest tightened with the urgency in his voice. I met his eyes with tears
blurring my own. I could smell the sickly sweet after-breath of beer over his
cologne.

“H-have
you b-been drinking?” I hiccupped.

Mark
shrugged, his eyes never leaving mine. “Only a little.”

I
sighed. “Thanks for… well, anyway, you should probably go. Karyn will have a
cow if you disappear too.”

“Karyn’s
not here,” he frowned. “We had a fight. Didn’t you know?”

I
shook my head, pushed my lips together so I wouldn’t smile.

But
Mark wasn’t done. “Half the girls got called home by their parents before even
got here. The rest joined forces with Karyn an hour ago and went to a motel.
Including Belinda.” He grinned. “Only you would miss that.”

“Wait,
there’s no other girls here now?”

Mark
shook his head and I groaned, burying my face in my hands.

Not
only was I here under slutty pretenses, but stories would go around school
about how I’d been the only girl left. I could
imagine
what Karyn and
her friends would do with that.

“Hey,
hey. Don’t worry.” Mark’s arms closed around me again, but I could hear the
smile in his voice. “We’ll hang out tonight, stay out of everyone’s way and
I’ll drive you home in the morning, okay? Relax. It’s fine.”

I
looked up at him then. His grin broadened to a smile and he reached forward to
brush a tear from my cheek. Then the thumb traced my cheek again.

“Please
stop crying,” he murmured and there was a new note in his voice that shivered
in my stomach.

“Okay,”
was the only thing I could think to say.

Mark
grinned, but only for a second. His eyes latched on mine and his thumb traced
my cheekbone again, fingers coming to rest under my ear.

“You
look beautiful tonight. You know that?”

“S-sure.
Puffy eyes and all–”

His
other hand cupped my face and he stared at me. “I’m serious.”

I
was frozen in that look. When his head tipped down and his lips closed on mine,
for a second, I felt like I was watching it happen to someone else.

But
then...So softly, but so sure, I fell into his kiss. He swallowed my words,
probed at my lips. His tongue traced mine with a feather touch.

Mark
was kissing me.

Mark
was
kissing
me.

Mark
was kissing
me
.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The
boards of the porch creaked and a rush of air chilled my ankles, but Mark
leaned over me, his lips dancing across mine in time with his breath.

My
shaking, unbelieving hands slid up his chest and around his neck, pulling him
closer. I pressed into him, into his kiss, and my breath came too fast but I
couldn’t care.

Mark
was kissing me. And it was every bit as good as I’d dreamed.

He
held my face so I couldn’t move away. His breath mingled with mine and the hot,
sweet smell of alcohol didn’t even matter. He kissed me like he
wanted
to
and I could have stayed there for hours. I didn’t care that we were outside. I
didn’t care about what had happened. I wanted to spend the rest of my life in
that moment.

Mark’s
breath thundered in my ear as his fingers laced behind my neck and he kissed
his way down my jaw, to my throat, to my collarbone.

“Gawd,
I’ve been waiting to do that,” he breathed against the skin of my neck, his
lips brushing the words away. “Every time I saw you tonight I wanted to grab
you and leave.”

My
head spun. Was this possible?

“I
always feel that way,” I whispered, then cringed when he chuckled.

He
pulled back to meet my eyes. My stomach dropped because he wasn’t kissing me
anymore and had I ruined everything?

He
cleared his throat, but I could hear his rapid breath. His lips were wet and I
ached to have them back, but was wretchedly certain I’d scared him off.

We
stared at each other in the dark – his eyes not much more than dark circles
slashed with a line of light. Then he sighed.

“I’m
sorry I made you wait,” he said, then pulled me close again and kissed away my
reply.

I
couldn’t get enough of him. The collar of his shirt twisted between my fingers.
The smooth skin beneath his ear fit my palm perfectly. His kiss took mine and
reflected it back while he held my head with one hand and slid the other around
my waist, his fingers barely kneading the skin at my back.

I
wanted more. I let my hands drift down to his waist. I pulled his shirt out of
his belt in rapid tugs, sliding my hands under it to his stomach. The tight
muscles of his abdomen clenched under my touch. My own tightened in response.

Mark
groaned and the sound trilled in my chest, sending electric currents through my
insides. Our kiss deepened.

But
just as I drummed up the courage to look for the button on his jeans, “Oh, man.
Stop. Not here.” Mark pulled away, found my eyes and stared like he was
searching for something. Then he smiled. “Come with me.”

“Where
are we going?” I asked, so obviously breathless that I became very glad for the
dark hiding my blush.

“Somewhere
we can actually be alone,” he said in a husky voice and pushed to his feet. The
sudden distance between us left me feeling bereft. But Mark pulled on my wrist,
tugging me to my feet. When I lost my balance and fell into his chest he kissed
me again, his fingers curled into my waist.

Then
one of his hands clasped mine and pulled me along the porch and down the little
steps onto the grass.

As
soon as our feet touched the sand a voice called from the back of the house.
“Stacy!?”

We
both froze. At first I thought someone had seen us, then Mark cursed and turned
to face me.

“They’re
still looking for you. I have to let them know you’re okay or they’ll keep
searching…”

Until
they find us.

I
didn’t want him to leave, didn’t want to
stop
, but I also didn’t want
someone calling the Police.

“Okay,”
I croaked.

Mark’s
fingers tightened on mine. He looked over my shoulder toward the house, then
down at me. “I’ll tell them you’re sick. I’ll be back in five minutes, okay?”

I
nodded and he kissed me again, then, “Go into those trees over there. I’ll find
you.”

Then
he took the stairs in one leap, jogged along the porch and out of sight.

A
breeze blew from the waves, pressing a tendril of hair across my face, tickling
my cheek. I wanted to follow him, stop him. As soon as he saw another person it
would break whatever spell was making him believe he wanted me. But I couldn’t
go back there. I couldn’t face those people. I couldn’t put Mark between me and
them.

I
was afraid he’d choose them.

Oh,
he wouldn’t turn his back on me. But he’d look at me and that light I’d seen in
his eyes wouldn’t be there. He’d give me perfect, logical explanations about
why he needed to stay in the house. He’d tell me to go to sleep and he’d take
me home in the morning.

And
he’d breathe a sigh of relief when I left the room.

The
walk to the trees felt like a funeral march. But I couldn’t go back. So I would
wait.

The
moon was almost full behind all the clouds, so a low, hazy light covered
everything now. The sand glowed, turning holes into smudges, and driftwood into
black, gnarled hands.

My
own hands shook and my feet seemed to find every rock and gully hidden in the
beach grasses. I tripped twice before I reached the trees, though I only walked
far enough in to be sure I was hidden by the shadows.

Occasional
voices rose in the distance, calling my name, or to each other. But then
clanging sounded from the house – one of those huge triangles old-fashioned farm
wives used to call their menfolk home for dinner.

The
black shapes on the sand became dark silhouettes of bodies returning to the
house.

He’d
told them.

I
stepped deeper in beneath the trees. My eyes and throat began to ache. I sank
to the sandy dirt and curled my arms around my knees.

Mark
kissed me. And he’d
wanted
to do it. The thrill of his touch had left me
shivering. But now I shook with the fear of what might happen next.

He
was inside, talking to guys who couldn’t stand me. He was out of the seamless
dark and into the harsh light of reality where I was an outcast and all his
friends thought he was nuts for just being friends with me. Would he change his
mind? Would they tease him, make him question what had happened?

Was
it all an alcohol-induced slip he would regret in the morning?

I’d
never seen Mark drunk and I didn’t think he was now. He wasn’t slurring. And it
wasn’t like he was acting crazy. Well, at least, not to me. If the guys inside
had seen us twined together, they’d probably disagree.

How
long would I sit here and wait to find out? Mark wouldn’t trap me on purpose,
but he trusted his friends too much and if Finn found out what was going on,
he’d be out here faster than–

“Stacy?
Stacy?!” Mark hissed.

I
jumped to my feet and ran out from behind the tree. “Over here.”

A
hulking shape was silhouetted by the light creeping under the lowest branches.

“I
told them you found some tequila and necked it, that it made you sick and you
don’t want them to see you throw up,” he chuckled. There was a snap and a
fluttering sound as a large blanket leapt out from his extended hands and
drifted to lay over the sand and grass. “I told Finn to leave the single
bedroom free, that I’d take you up there when you were feeling better.”

He
shrugged and a lump shifted from his shoulder to his hands – a backpack? “I
have an extra rug in here, are you cold?”

I
shook my head, but when he didn’t respond I realized he couldn’t see me in the
dark. “No,” I managed. Mark threw the blanket to the side, then dug deeper into
the bag.

“I
grabbed some chips and stuff from the table and even…” a
clink
accompanied
his hand emerging from the backpack with a flourish, clasping two glasses and a
bottle of wine. “I hope you like white. I realized I never asked you what you
like to drink. How crazy is that?”

He
sounded buoyant, upbeat, pleased with himself. He’d brought
wine
?

Mark
shuffled around on his knees on the blanket, throwing the bag off to the side
and arranging the snacks. I just watched.

He
settled down, finally, the bottle of wine in one hand and chips on the blanket
next to him. I could see tiny crinkles of light where the bag reflected slices
of the sky that peeked between the branches.

Then
he froze. “Stace?” For the first time he sounded uncertain. Doubtful.

“Yeah?”

“Are
you going to come over here?” he asked quietly.

“Do
you want me to?”

Mark
didn’t move immediately, but when he did, it was with a sigh. He put down the
wine, pushed the chips bag next to it, got to his feet, and took the five steps
to where I stood, hugging my own arms for warmth.

When
he stopped in front of me I opened my mouth to tell him it was okay, that this
was a mistake and he didn’t have to worry. But suddenly I was in his arms and
he kissed me again.

When
he pulled away, his fingers ran slow circuits on my upper arms.

“Didn’t
you hear me before?” he said softly. “I’ve been
waiting
for this. Every
time Dex touched you I wanted to punch him.”

“Next
time, you have my permission,” I said and laughed. Mark chuckled too, then we
were both quiet. His hand slid up my arm, leaving a delicious, tingling trail
behind.

“Stace,”
he said, in that tone I’d heard him use so many times before and craved to hear
curled around my name. He took my hand and led me onto the blanket and,
ignoring the sudden unease creeping up on me, I settled myself.

There
wasn’t much point in the wine or the chips because, honestly, as soon as he sat
down and his thigh brushed mine, all I wanted to do was be in his arms again.

I
caught the front of his shirt as he turned to grab the drinks and he stopped.
Whether he could see my face, or he just figured out what I wanted, he came
back, one hand in my hair and the other on my waist and he kissed me. Then I
was on my back, my head cradled in his arm. He lay alongside, curled over me.

At
first I let my hands explore his neck and hair, marveling in the freedom to
touch him. But as his breath came faster and he pressed closer, my hands slid
under his arms and down his back.

His
shirt was still loose. The front must have caught on my hip or something. It
had ridden up to bare his lower back above his beltline.

My
fingers found his skin and I pulled him over me, letting my hands travel the
curves and ridges of his back where the muscles bunched when he moved, then
slid into a valley along his spine, rising again on the other side.

He
lay between my knees, kissing my neck, his breath a hot, frantic thunder in my
ear. With a start, I realized his hands shook and I smiled through my kisses
because I wasn’t the only one suffering nerves.

Then
he groaned and pressed his hips into mine, taking all his own weight on one arm
as the other hand slid down my chest and stomach, down, under the hem of my
skirt and back up, tickling the outside of my thigh with his gentle touch.

I
gasped and a tingling spiral of arousal tore from my knees to my throat. I
pulled him closer,
wanted
him.

He
kissed a line from my ear to my shoulder and I almost groaned myself.

“Have
you got… I mean…” I gasped, sure of what I wanted, but horrified by the idea of
saying it.

“Don’t
worry,” he breathed in my ear. “You’re safe. We’ll be safe.”

I
smiled. I did feel safe. I was with Mark.

Terrified
and ecstatic in the same moment, I followed Mark’s beltline with both hands
until I found the buckle.

Mark
sucked in a shuddering breath when I tugged at it and his hand on my leg
tightened.

I
imagined telling Older Me about what this was like. Would she be shocked?

But
then something came home to me with startling clarity.

Karyn.

She
was cheating on Mark. Like this?

Was
I just like her?

No.
No, I would never do that to Mark. I pulled him closer. He groaned and his
trembling hand slid up my thigh. I gasped into his kiss, tried to push away the
thoughts bombarding me.

…Karyn
leaned into Mark’s arm and said something that made him smile. He nodded and
touched her hair. They looked so comfortable together.

Karyn
was his girlfriend. She was a lying, cheating sack of pus.

And
she was also the reason he’d come
prepared
.

“Stop!
Stop!”

I
pushed at Mark and he sprang away like he’d been burned, landing on his side on
the blanket.

“What?!
What? Did I hurt you?” he gasped, one hand on my stomach, his head strained up
awkwardly to examine me in the dark.