Dare You To (34 page)

“No. I love football and want to play. In fact, I want to become a high school football coach.

Dad knew that. He didn’t agree with me, but he knew it. I thought if I played along, that if I pretended that—” He cuts himself off.

I came here. I brought this up. I can finish the statement for him. “They’d accept who you are?”

Mark nods. “Yeah.”

The two of us sit in silence. My stomach

twists and turns like I’m on a boat on the verge of capsizing. My life was perfect and I enjoyed every second. Mark’s two little words “I’m gay” tipped my world. Maybe I get why he

left. Maybe I don’t. Either way, anger still festers, and if I’m doing this, I’m doing this.

“You left me.”

“What did you want me to do?” Resentment

thickens his tone. “I can’t change who I am.”

I need to move. Hit something. Throw

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something. I stand instead. “Not leave. You said you pretended before. Why couldn’t you pretend again? Or you could have stayed and fought and, I don’t know, convinced Mom and Dad to let you stay.”

Mark calmly watches as I pace the length of the narrow room. He clears his throat.

“Someday, you’re going to see how Mom and Dad controlled and manipulated our lives.

You’re going to notice how they made us

believe that their dreams were our dreams.

They dictated our every breath. Think about it—do you have any idea who you are without them?”

Mom sat me next to Gwen last night and she specifically asked me to take care of Gwen’s needs during the evening. Just like she asked me to take care of Gwen when I was fifteen.

After that first dinner, Mom encouraged me to ask her out and I did.

But baseball is my choice. It always has

been. Dad understands baseball. Because of that, he’s managed every part of my baseball career: the coaches, the leagues. Hell, he even stands up to umps. He does it all for me.

Right?

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Mom and Dad’s concerns, all of their

pushing, they do it because they love me. But they flat-out told me not to date Beth,

regardless of my feelings for her, and they expect nothing less than compliance.

“You’re going to wear a hole in my carpet,”

Mark says.

No, Mark’s wrong. He has to be wrong. “I’m a good ballplayer.” I am. The best.

“You are. Dad did that right. He didn’t force us into a sport we had no talent in. He took his time and found the one sport each of us was good at. The question is—who are you playing for, Ry? You or Dad?”

Between the door and bunk beds, I freeze.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Dad wants perfection. Scratch that. Dad

wants perfection on the outside so everyone else can see it. Mom too. They could care less if we’re torn up on the inside as long as the rest of the world envies us.”

Everyone in Groveton assumes Mom and

Dad have the perfect marriage. The

homecoming queen married the star

quarterback. Behind closed doors, Mom and Dad hate each other. I thought they’d get over
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it. Now…

“I’ve learned a lot playing college ball,”

Mark says. “What you do in high school

doesn’t mean shit. You can be the best

ballplayer in your high school. The best in the county or state, but when you get to college, you’re going to meet fifty other guys who can brag the same thing. You’ll meet guys better than you, stronger than you, faster than you, and then you’re up against better teams. The world changes when you leave Groveton.”

When I leave Groveton. Decisions need to

be made before that can happen: pros, college, literary competitions, scholarships. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I wish someone would have told me, but I had to figure it out on my own. You’re not alone, Ry.”

“Yeah, I am.” And my eyes burn. I close

them quickly and suck in a breath. He left. And Mom and Dad’s marriage is falling apart and everything I have ever known and loved is disintegrating into ashes.

“I never left you.”

“But you didn’t come home. You never

answered my texts.” The voice falling out of
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my mouth isn’t my own. It’s strained. Tight.

On the verge of breaking.

“I’m sorry, but you have to understand, until Mom or Dad reach out to me, I can’t go back.

I’ll admit, I left them. But I get it now. I should have tried harder when it came to you. I should have called. I should have visited. I messed up, but I swear, I never left you.”

I pull off my cap and run my hand through my hair. He never left me. Beth’s right—I left him. My throat thickens. “I’ve missed you.” I shake my head, trying to find a way to say the next words. “I never cared that you’re gay, but I cared that you…that you left.”

“Yeah.” His voice becomes gruff. “I know.

It’s okay, Ry. Me and you, we’re okay.”

He stands and the action takes me off guard.

We’re Stones and Stone men don’t touch, but the moment he puts his hand on my arm, a

tentative offer, I accept and allow him to pull me into his body. Our arms wind tight around each other for one brief second. I squint my eyes to combat the tears and when we release, we both retreat to opposite sides of the room.

“So.” Mark clears his throat and claps his hands together. “Tell me about Beth.”

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I DID GOOD. Me, Beth Risk—I did a good deed.

I would have made a great fucking girl scout and I so would have scored the Reunite Your Jock-Sorta-Boyfriend with His Jock-Gay-Brother badge. If they don’t make those, they seriously should. Ryan will look back in

twenty years and not think of the girl that left in the dead of night. Nope, he’ll remember the girl that gave him back his brother.

I stare up at the gray clouds moving across the sky. Ryan and I lie on the banks of a large pond located on the back end of his father’s property. Just like everything else about Ryan, this spot is perfect. This day is perfect.

Propped up on an elbow, Ryan tucks a stray hair behind my ear, causing a warming tickle to caress my neck. I’m going to enjoy myself today. I’m going to laugh. I’m going to smile.

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I’m going to drop the chains that drag me down. Ryan’s a great guy and for some reason, he’s really into me. Or better, he’s really into the mirage he’s created.

“You’re beautiful,” he says.

“So are you.” He truly is. I reach up and take the baseball cap he’s been wearing backward off his head. He’s hot with his hat on. He’s gorgeous with it off. His mop of sandy hair blows with the breeze.

When I release the cap from my grasp, Ryan twines his strong hand with mine.
Strong
is an understatement. This hand can make a ball fly faster than most cars will ever go. His hand on my skin can make warmth curl in very private areas of my body.

“So…” Ryan says as he glances away and

attempts to look nonchalant. I know what’s eating him. On the way back from Lexington, he gave me more of his zombie story to read.

Waiting for my thoughts drives him insane. “I think George and Olivia will end up together.”

Five minutes. He couldn’t go five minutes outside his Jeep without asking. I try to keep from smiling, but I fail miserably. He catches it and his forehead furrows. “What?”

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I shrug. “You’re cute when you’re

anxious.”

“I’m not anxious.”

“I like it about you.” I like everything about Ryan. “The story was fabulous. Really. I’m sucked in when I read it, but I have to disagree with you. George and Olivia will not end up together.”

“Why not?”

“They live in two different worlds and

they’re sort of two different creatures. I mean—he’s a zombie and she isn’t.”

“But he loves her,” he says doggedly. “And she loves him.”

“George is going to walk away from

becoming the leader of his zombie friends for her?” I ask. “Come on, you have him wanting to be the leader so badly that he crossed his best friend for the title. And do you honestly believe Olivia is going to walk away from her family for him?”

“Her family sucks.” Ryan grins as if he won.

My stomach hurts like someone stabbed me.

“Yeah, but it’s still her family. I don’t think I could like her if she walked away. What does that say about a person?”

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“I think it says she’s willing to live her own life.”

Overhead, honking Canadian geese fly in a V formation and head south for the winter.

That’ll be me soon, but will I feel as free as they look? “I think it says she’s selfish. How can she walk away from her dad? He needs

her.”

“He uses her,” says Ryan.

I shrug again, not a fan of conversations that go nowhere. Ryan loosens his grip on my hand and begins to trace the ribbon tied to my wrist.

He’s nervous and something deep within me nudges that it’s not about the story. “What’s going on?”

My anxiety level increases as Ryan

continues to outline the ribbon.

“I want us to be permanent,” he says. “I

don’t like the idea of you dating other guys.”

Panic seizes my chest and I feel suddenly claustrophobic. I’m leaving. Soon. As soon as Mom gets the car out of impoundment. A

clamminess invades my hands and I

immediately roll away from Ryan. I need air.

Lots and lots of air.

I stumble to the edge of the pond and catch
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myself before I plummet down the two-foot ledge into the water. Catfish swim near the surface. I can’t get rid of the chains, no matter how hard I try. Today was supposed to be the one day I didn’t feel like I was drowning.

“What’s wrong?” Ryan asks from behind

me.

“Nothing,” I say.

“Beth.” He stops, then starts again. “I really care for you and I was hoping you felt the same way.”

A single drop of rain hits the pond and

ripples break onto the smooth water. He can’t have feelings for me. He can’t. Liking me is one thing—feeling is another. It doesn’t fit with the plan. No. This isn’t how it was

supposed to go.

I knead my hands against my eyes.
Fuck,
Beth, how did you think this was going to go?

You knew you were falling for him, but he
wasn’t supposed to fall for you.
His words make everything real. Too real. I spin around and spit out the accusation that has become my mantra. “Guys like you don’t fall for girls like me.”

“What? I can’t fall for pretty girls with smart
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mouths?”

He doesn’t get it. “I’m a whore.”

Ryan’s head flinches as if I slapped him.

Pretending I don’t care what he thinks about me, I jut out my chin. Fairy tales happen, just not to me. Time to tell the prince he rescued the wrong girl.

“Two years ago, the guy every girl dreamed about spent an entire summer making me feel special. A week before school started, he told me he loved me, and I gave him my virginity.

When school began, he told his friends I was a slut.”

Ryan reaches out and I lean away. Some

pain isn’t meant to be shared. I was the idiot who believed Luke. I was the one who

honestly thought I was special enough to be loved.

“He took advantage of you.” An

undercurrent of anger surges in his voice.

“That doesn’t make you a whore, that makes him an asshole.”

He’s missing the point. “I drink. I smoke pot. Before I came to Groveton, I was high all the time. I am not the girl you want to be permanent with. You don’t see me for who I
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am.”

“I know you turned down the chance to

smoke pot on Saturday. I know the rumors at school say you’ve turned down the guys who smoke that shit endlessly. I know that you walk a straighter line than most of the kids at school.

This is a small town, Beth. You can’t breathe without someone knowing. I don’t know who you pretended to be in Louisville, but I see the girl you really are now.”

The way he stares at me—it’s as if he

doesn’t even see the outside anymore. His eyes pierce me as if he can see my soul and the thought terrifies me. He can’t fall for me. He can’t. “Do you think you’re the only guy I’ve made out with because I wanted to
feel
something?”

“I was different,” he says with confidence.

I swallow, look away, and lie, “No, you

weren’t.”

Ryan steps toward me and I step back. He’s not reacting like he should. Ryan should be disgusted by me. He should be walking away, not coming closer. Hope lights his face. “You are the one person who can have an entire conversation with someone and stare straight
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into their eyes and never blink. That is, unless you’re lying. Look me in the eye and tell me the truth. You fell for me that night in the barn.”

My eyes dart to his and I curse internally when he smiles. “That’s why you bolted.”

How can someone experience so much joy

when I’m in so much agony? Doesn’t he

understand we aren’t going to work?

“You felt something for me and you didn’t want to. You wanted a mindless hookup, but it blew up in your face.”

I can see the memory of the night playing in his eyes, and my chest aches. He’s on the verge of figuring it out. His eyebrows shoot up. “You bolted when I whispered your name. You felt something for me right then, didn’t you?”

My head shakes back and forth as I whisper,

“No.”

Relief softens his face and a hint of hope lifts his lips. “You’re falling for me like I’m falling for you. That’s why you’re pushing me so hard.”

“Leave me alone!” Filled with the need to flee, I turn. If I run fast enough, I can leave behind the awful memories of my past and

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