Love Me for Me (12 page)

He
had told me that he would make me like it, over and over again. I’d been determined to prove him wrong, even years later.

But Alex changed everything. I opened my mouth, wishing I could explain all of this to him. But someone, more than ever before, I didn’t want to scare him away with my demons.

I wanted him to stay.

“Have you ever boxed?” Startled by the seemingly random question, I looked up, looked into his face. I thought I detected banked rage in those night dark eyes, but I didn’t think it was directed at me.

“Boxed? Like... hitting a punching bag?” My blunt description startled a laugh out of him, and he scrubbed his hands over his face before settling them on me again.

“Yeah, I guess that’s the long and short of it. Put on padded gloves and beat the hell out of a punching bag.” He smiled, showing a boy’s appreciation for the sport. “Tripp got me into it when I... when we met. I have a bag set up in my spare room. I’ll show you how sometime.”

I couldn’t believe that, even after everything, he still wasn’t running. I was too tired to question why. I took another sip from the water bottle, then handed it back to him.

“I’d like that.” Moments before I leaned back against the cold brick again, I felt him drape something heavy—his suit jacket—around my shoulders.

“Serena?”

“Hmm.” I closed my eyes and unashamedly inhaled his scent, which clung to the smooth fabric.

“You didn’t lose control.” Warily I opened my eyes, tilted my head so that I could see his face.

The emotion that I saw there made my heart skip. The words that followed were my undoing.

“You didn’t lose control. You just gave it to me for a little while.”

Chapter Eight

I sat on my bed the next morning, staring at toes that were still painted with sparkly polish. I wiggled them, enjoying the sensation of the rough carpet on the skin.

I’d just gotten home, and I was happier than I’d ever been.

Alex had coaxed me into returning to the dance after my meltdown the night before. We’d stayed on the dance floor with Tripp and Georgeanne until the party ended, and I’d let go—of everything this time—and had the time of my life.

Still worried about me, Alex had talked me into a sleepover at his apartment. I’d been taken aback when, after I’d dressed in a pair of his sweatpants and one of his T-shirts, he’d wrapped me in his arms and gone straight to sleep.

No hands wandered to my breasts, no touches played between my legs. At first I couldn’t sleep, unused to being held so tightly while drifting off to slumber, but finally...

Finally I’d relaxed. His strong arms around me felt... good. Warm.

Safe.

When I’d left that morning, he’d finally kissed me again, the first one since I’d freaked out the night before. The way his lips had slanted over mine, and the way his arms had wrapped around my waist made my toes curl.

It was his way, I knew, of announcing that he was still very much attracted to me, despite everything.

I was amazed. And happy.

I couldn’t keep the goofy grin off of my face when the dorm room door banged open, and Kaylee flew through. I wanted to tell her, I realized. I wanted to talk to her about Alex, the way she talked to me.

Milliseconds after I opened my mouth to do just that, I noted the panicked expression on her face and snapped my lips shut.

“What’s wrong?” I jolted, then stood as she slammed the door shut behind us. She faced me, her hands tugging distractedly on her ponytail.

“Your mom’s here.” Her words were like a blow to my gut. My mouth fell open, and my mind rejected the notion.

My mom had only visited me at school once before, which was when Kaylee had met her.

It hadn’t ended well.

“Are you sure?” I clenched my hands into fists.

“Like, ninety-nine percent.” Kaylee bobbed her head nervously. “She—aah—made quite an impression last time she was here.”

That was putting it nicely. The last time Felicity had visited, Kaylee had barely turned away before my mother had commented on my best friend’s ‘sexual appetite’, simply because Kaylee had mentioned in passing that she was going on dates—first dates—with two different boys that weekend.

She’d been hurt, I knew, though she’d never have told me so.

“Is she alone?” Frantically, I began to strip off the dress that Kaylee had loaned me, which I had pulled on when Alex had driven me back to campus. Kaylee grabbed a pair of jeans and one of my usual tank tops and flannel shirts from my closet and tossed them at me.

“As far as I know.” I hissed a breath out through my teeth as I hitched the jeans up over my hips. Kaylee couldn’t have known how important it was for me to know that.

“Serena.” I was feeling so frantic as I tugged my tank top over my head, it took a moment for me to register the horror in Kaylee’s voice. Furrowing my brow, I followed her stare down.

She was staring at the silver scars that striped my upper arms. I’d always made sure to confine my cuts there, because it was easy for me to hide them.

“Oh.” I stared back at her. I didn’t know what to say.

The knock I’d been waiting for sounded. I snapped my lips shut, tore my gaze from Kaylee’s, and slid into my flannel shirt. I buttoned it up to the top with fingers that were suddenly clumsy.

Before I reached for the door, I pulled the elastic band from my hair, loosening my ponytail so that my hair fell down around my face.

I didn’t want to open that door.

She was my mother. I didn’t have a choice.

Slowly, dread making my fingers thick and stupid, I opened the heavy door to the room I shared with Kaylee. She had been right—it was my mother.

“Serena.” Felicity looked me up and down quickly, and when she sniffed I knew I’d been found wanting. “I came to take you to lunch.”

My fingers clutched at the top button of my shirt. It was on the tip of my tongue to refuse, but I still clung to the wild hope that Felicity might come to her senses, might realize I’d been telling the truth all along.

“All right.” Mechanically I turned. My bank card, identification and a handful of bills lay on my bedside table; I shoved them in the pocket of my jeans.

“Hi, Mrs. Baker.” Kaylee would have sounded friendly enough to anyone who didn’t know her; as close as I’d been to her the last two years, I could hear the hint of stiffness in her voice. “Nice to see you again.”

I wrinkled my nose. I hated hearing the woman who had given birth to me addressed by Bob’s last name. I shouldn’t have cared, really—it was a tiny detail in the massive mess that was my life.

Felicity didn’t answer, instead sniffing to show her disdain. When I turned around again, I saw that her gaze had fallen on Alex’s suit jacket, which I’d worn home and now lay at the foot of my bed.

My face flamed, and though I read the aggressive challenge in her eyes, I pressed my lips together.

No way was I telling this woman about Alex. He was too new... too special.

I wasn’t going to taint what I had with him with the darkness that was my family.

“I’m ready.” Felicity gestured at the door with a jerk of her head, then sailed out herself. I followed her trim, black clad figure with my eyes before glancing back at Kaylee.

She collapsed onto her bed helplessly. I nodded, feeling halfway dead inside, before following Felicity out of the room.

She was waiting for me in the hall.

“I saw a coffee shop in the next building. Let’s go there.” I shook my head vehemently before I could even think about it.

“No.” That coffee shop was Daily Grind, where I had gone with Alex the day we’d met. No way was I going there with Felicity.

She raised her eyebrows at me, not at all impressed.

“Their stuff is lousy.” I looked down at my feet, clad in flip flops that I’d slid into at the last minute. The glitter of my nail polish seemed to wink at me, a reminder of last night, and how happy I’d been.

Stupid as that little detail was, it bolstered my courage.

“There’s a little cafe right around the corner, Felicity. It’s simple but decent. Let’s go there.” After a moment in which she looked at me with narrow eyes—probably because she wasn’t used to me taking control—Felicity nodded once, curtly.

“All right.” She resumed her brisk walk, leaving me to follow behind like a clumsy puppy out of my dorm building and all the way to the cafe.

“Here?” She barely repressed the curl of her lip as she looked up at the cafe sign, which was only slightly faded by the sun.

Kaylee and I came here regularly. The food was cheap but good, and the coffee was strong.

“It’s fine, Felicity.” I snapped as I stalked ahead of her, the rubber of my flip flops slapping against the soles of my feet. The bells on the glass door jingled as I pushed through, and though I kinda wanted to slam it in her face, I held it open long enough for her to catch.

I didn’t bother to ask where she wanted to sit. For once I found myself past the need for her approval. I selected a booth at random and slid into it.

When she joined me, I saw a flicker of surprise on her face. I supposed I should have felt vindicated, that I could affect her in some way, but instead I felt weary.

I had spent so long waiting for some kind of empathy from this woman, I couldn’t find it in me to care.

A waitress brought us glasses of iced water, and I sipped at mine while Felicity ordered a coffee. When the waitress left, and I could feel Felicity’s eyes on me, judging me, I switched from drinking my water to playing with the paper packets of sweetener that sat in the middle of the table.

I didn’t speak. She would, I knew, I just had to wait for it.

“I didn’t care for how our last conversation ended.” When I looked up I saw the disapproving set to her mouth. I wanted to scream. I didn’t want to be a stereotype, didn’t want to hate my mother, but every word that came out of her mouth hurt me.

I was sick of it.

“I didn’t, either.” Instead of looking down, as I normally would, I looked right back at her, right into eyes that were the exact same color as my own, the color of ice. Her lips parted with what I imagined was a hint of surprise.

“You’ve gotten quite the attitude lately.” She paused as the waitress brought her coffee. Pursing her lips, Felicity peeled back the lid from a tiny container of creamer with perfectly manicured mauve nails, grimacing when the cream splashed onto the table.

I didn’t answer, my fingers instead straying the hair surrounding my face. A piece of it was lodged behind my ear, and I untucked it so that it swung in a curtain over my cheek.

“Why don’t you ever make an effort with your appearance, Serena?” Felicity made a clucking sound, reaching across the table to tuck the tendrils behind my ear again. I flinched away from her touch, shaking the strands back into my face. “You used to be such a pretty girl.”

I used to be innocent, too
. My thoughts were a scream, but I knew better that to give them a voice.

I’d tried that. It didn’t work.

“Some people think I’m pretty just like this.” My words were matter of fact, but my thoughts strayed to Alex.

The expression on his face when he first saw me in my dress last night lifted my spirits and gave me courage.

I heard the harsh exhale of my mother’s breath. She hated it most when I was calm, reasonable. I think it made her feel like she wasn’t affecting me at all, like I wasn’t listening.

I was listening, all right. And every time she disappointed me, every time she continued acting the way she had since I was fifteen and it had all started, the more it sliced at me like a razor blade.

“Why are you here, Felicity?” My voice was quiet. She didn’t deny that she had a reason.

“Why don’t you ever come home for a visit?” She drummed those beautifully manicured names on the laminated tabletop, and the sound scraped across my eardrums. “Your schoolmates from high school, they all go home to visit their families. It doesn’t look right.”

“Whatever will the neighbors think,” I murmured, shocked that I’d said the words out loud for once. Felicity reared back as though I’d slapped her, and I shook my head a fraction.

“You know why I won’t come home.” I looked her directly in the eye. I saw the flicker that told me she knew what I was referring to, but I also saw the anger.

With a sinking heart, I saw that she still thought I was lying.

“Bob misses you,” she finally said, her voice accusatory. Something thick and hot slithered down to coat the inside of my throat, making it hard for me to breathe.

The way she’d said it—
Bob
misses you. It implied both that she didn’t, and that I was behaving badly towards my stepfather.

“He’s your father. You owe it to him to visit.” Her words infuriated me, and when I spoke, my voice was a furious hiss.

“He is
not
my father.” I spat the words, and could hear the venom dripping from them. I had never known my real father, might have welcomed a real substitute, but it would be a cold day in hell when I acknowledged Bob as a parent.

This was the point in our meetings where I would usually tune out, nodding like an automaton just to get through.

I didn’t know what had changed, but I was done.

“Felicity, I can’t do this anymore.” I laid my palms flat on the table, enjoying the coolness against my suddenly slick palms.

“Can’t do what?” Felicity rolled her eyes and finally deigned to take a small sip of her coffee. I studied her as she did, this woman from whom I had come.

Same pale eyes, same golden hair. That was all that I could find of myself in her.

It made me sick that I was glad.

Mechanically, I stood. When I looked at her, at the woman who had failed to protect me, I felt as though a thick wall of glass had slid into place between us, diffusing her effect on me.

“I can’t do this with you anymore. I can’t pretend.” Digging in my pocket, I pulled out a five dollar bill, to cover her coffee and the waitress’ time.

I looked at the stranger who should have been my mother.

I felt numb.

“Until you believe me, I can’t do this.” Felicity’s mouth fell open as I turned away from her, and I had a quick impression of her sputtering into her cup. Part of me, the part who had once thought dandelions were flowers and had picked bouquets of them just for her, wanted to run back, to throw myself into her arms.