Sometimes Never (22 page)

             
“Oh,” Hope breathes.

             
My eyes flick to hers and I follow her line of sight down to my translucent boxer shorts before returning to her. I chuckle at her shameless staring.

             
“Well,” she laughs, finally looking me in the eyes. “I guess they are lucky. For me, at least.” She grins wickedly and I let my pants slip from my fingers. I stalk toward her, gliding through the water, ripping the candy wrapper open as I go. I smoothly place a piece in between my lips, holding it with my teeth and bend my head to hers. This I can do. This is easy. If Hope wants to keep our relationship physical for now, I am more than willing to oblige.

             
She seizes my shoulders, pulling herself up to meet me. Her nails dig into my skin and I nearly whimper with yearning as her mouth surrounds the candy, stealing it from my lips.

             
Gazing up at me, she licks the corner of her mouth. “I love candy,” she whispers.

             
Okay. Am I still the candy? Damn it. This girl is so confusing. Is she freaking talking about Rollos or is she trying to tell me something? Am I reading too much into her words?
Shit.

             
“Do you want to go to my house?” she asks. “I think I need some real food.”

             
And that. Does she really want to go home and make a sandwich or is she inviting me back to her house for more than brunch? I shrug. Screw it. It doesn’t matter. I’m grateful she’s still with me, inviting me in any manner. We don’t need to rush this further right now anyway. I think I did that enough already for one day.

             
“Sure,” I agree. “You don’t happen to have a towel in your car, do you?”

             
“Actually, I think I might have one of Guy’s beach towels in the trunk. Don’t ask. You don’t want to know.”

             
“Uh, all right. It’s clean, though. Right?”

             
Hope raises her brows and lifts one shoulder in a lopsided shrugging gesture. “Clean enough.” I stand where I am as she trudges through the mud.

             
“What does that mean?” I call.

             
She dips into the car, plucking the keys from the ignition. “It means,” she says as she opens the trunk, “that it’s good enough to dry off with.” I ring myself out as she pats the Spiderman towel against her arms. Hm-mm. I’m not using it.

             
“Stay back there. I’m going commando,” I warn before sliding my boxers off and thrusting my legs into my jeans.

             
“Yeah, um, just so you know, I can totally see you.” I can hear the smile in her voice. I glance back as I button up and it’s not just a smile. It’s a heart stopping, sexy as hell smirk. The wind blows her long hair across her face. She catches it and it flutters across her throat, her collar bone, her chest. Goosebumps stand out on her pale skin. I move around the car, not taking me eyes off her. As she points her leg out to dry it, I spot the scars on her thigh. Without consciously deciding to, I reach out and run my fingertips over one of the jagged lines.

             
Hope inhales quickly, a hissing sound through her teeth. The muscle in her leg twitches at my touch. I kneel in front of her, taking the towel from her trembling hands, and smooth it over each leg. I look up at her, catching her gaze as I lean into her, pressing a light kiss to each scar. Her body convulses, quivering, and she cinches her fingers into my hair. I trail my hands across her thigh one last time.

             
“Why did you do it?” I ask softly.

             
Hope sinks to the grass as if she’s unable to stand. She pulls her legs to her chest and my breath hitches in my throat. This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. How her back curves over her pale legs, her ankles crossed gracefully over each other, chin resting on one knee, the wet ends of her hair clinging to her arms, big blue eyes bright with pain. I don’t know a word meaningful enough for this beauty. How is it possible the entire world isn’t in love with her?

             
Probably the worst timing ever, but I have to capture this image. I dig my phone out of my pocket and snap a picture causing her to scrunch up her face in confusion and glower at me at the same time. I almost take another because I’ve never seen this combination on her before, but I refrain.

             
“Sorry,” I say. “I couldn’t help myself. You’re beautiful.”

             
She shakes her head and looks at her feet. “I hate when you say that.”

             
I tilt my head to the side, trying to get a better look at her face. “Why?”

             
She positions her hands on her shins and shakes her head again, angrily this time. “Because I’m not.”

             
“That’s bullshit.” I settle back against the car and steady my gaze on her profile. “Inside and out, you are the most attractive person I’ve ever met. You’re like a siren, drawing me to you.” I shrug and smirk at her. “Face it, Hope. You’re hot.”

             
“So you want to get in my pants. That doesn’t make me beautiful.”

             
I’m not going to deny I want in her pants, but I don’t have to confirm it right now either. “You’re not wearing pants. And I’m entitled to my opinion. I say you are.”

             
Hope shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t want to be.”

             
I feel my brows merge. “You don’t want to be what? Beautiful? Why?”

             
Closing her eyes tightly, she bites her lip. I pry one of her hands from her leg and squeeze it, assuring her I’m here, listening. Without opening her eyes, she takes a deep breath and sighs.

             
“I don’t like attention.” She clenches my hand tightly. I move closer to her, letting our sides make contact. The trembling in her body scares me. Unease fills me and I don’t know if I want to hear what she’s about to say. But, Jesus, that is so selfish. Running my free hand through my hair roughly and pressing closer yet, I rest my head against her shoulder.

             
“What happened to you?”

             
Her voice is broken when she answers. “His name was Andy.” She spits his name like it disgusts her to have it pass through her lips. “Fucking Andy. Sounds like a sweet, dorky dude, right? He even looked like it. Tall and skinny, glasses.” I feel her shake her head again, her body jerking with the motion. “But he was wiry. Is. He
is
wiry.”

             
I grind my teeth as I shake with rage. But I don’t say anything. I won’t rush her. I won’t stop her. So I wait.

             
“I was twelve when he and my mom started dating. Back then, I wanted to look like her. I was happy I resembled my mom. She was still pretty, not like she was before she started using, but still, I was
proud
I shared her looks.” She huffs a frustrated laugh.

“
The very first time I met Andy I knew something was wrong with him. The way he looked at me made me nervous. Everything about him was so intense, but he treated me like an adult. Made my mom back off me when she’d lose it. I started to like him because when he was around, things weren’t so bad. He brought food to the house. Good food, too. No Ramen noodle bullshit. Name brand cereal. Fresh bread. He kept my mom happy for the most part, helping her with some of the bills, kept the alcohol flowing. Two weeks. That’s how long it took.” Hope shivers and inhales a quivering breath.

“
She passed out, drunk or high, I don’t know which. I was in the living room watching the movie he rented.” She opens her eyes finally and a tear rolls down her cheek. “Don’t ever ask me to watch Happy Feet.” It takes her second to continue and in that moment, I feel the anger coiling inside of me.

             
“Andy carried my mom back to the bedroom and then... I shouldn’t have been wearing one of my mom’s old nightgowns. I was a kid. I should have been in flannel pajama pants or something. I should’ve gone to my room when she passed out. I knew better than to stick around her boyfriends. I—I should’ve... He sat too close, but I kept watching the movie. I could smell his cologne. It was so strong it burnt my throat, stung my nose. I still remember that smell.

             
“When he put his hand on my leg I realized I had made a mistake, but it was too late. I was alone. All I could do was stare at his long fingers as they slid the nightgown up. I didn’t stop him until it was around my waist. I don’t know why I let him get it that far. I should’ve—I should’ve
stopped
him.”

             
Hope pinches her eyes shut and more tears fall from her lashes. I wrap my arm around her shoulder and crush her against my chest. The need to jump up and beat the shit out of something is so strong. I think I might puke. My eyes burn and I know I’m shaking as bad as she is. I don’t want to know. I need to know, but I don’t want to hear it. I’m going to kill this guy. I’m going to hunt him down and I am going to
fucking kill him
.

             
She sniffles, tearing me away from my murderous thoughts. “I smacked his hands away and he laughed. He fucking laughed at me because he knew I was weak. He touched me, Mason. He touched me everywhere. And the whole time I begged him to stop, he kept telling me I was beautiful. Like it was my fault he was a filthy fucking pedophile. Like he couldn’t help himself.” She pulls away from me, her chest rising and falling too quickly as if she’s fighting for breath.

             
“He made me touch him. He took my hand, controlled it. Controlled me. Forced me to do what he wanted. I had never kissed a boy, but I was jerking my mother’s boyfriend off in our living room while a cartoon played in the background. All while he explored my twelve year old body with his disgusting fingers. There were things about my body I didn’t know about; parts I had never thought to touch, but Andy introduced me to them all.”

             
Hugging her arms around herself, Hope drops her head, staring at the scars on her inner thigh. “I didn’t even understand what happened when he got off. All I knew was he let go of me and I ran into the bathroom. I locked the door and I went nuts. I tore the shower curtain from the rod. I threw every bottle of my mom’s hair shit, all her make-up, anything I could get my hands on. I destroyed the room. I was so angry. Because if I was angry, if I was pissed as hell, then I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of my tears.

             
“I punched the wall over and over again and the pain started to calm me down, so I kept slamming my fist into anything solid. My knuckles were bloody and I don’t know why, but I wanted more blood. I needed more blood to leave my body. Like the memory would leave with it. I pounded on the mirror until it shattered and it cut the shit out of my hands. It felt so good, Mason. It felt
good
. I felt nothing but this insane physical pain. I was numb to the rest. For that moment, it was like what Andy did—it didn’t happen. Do you know the only thing worse than what he did to me is?”

             
I don’t think she expects me to answer. I couldn’t anyway if she did.

             
“My mom was pissed about the bathroom. She didn’t ask me why I did it. Didn’t even care about my fucked up hands. All she said was: Clean it up.

             
“You asked why I did this to myself.” She moves her leg so I can see the marks of her suffering. “This makes me forget. It releases all the torment that lives inside. It erases him. It makes all the things that remind me of him easier to deal with. It draws it out and makes it disappear for a little while.

             
“I’m not beautiful. And if you knew what’s contained within me, you would see the truth. This—” She jabs her leg hard enough to turn her pale skin whiter. “This is so much uglier inside.”

             
It hurts to swallow and it takes several tries. Twelve years old. Kellin’s age. I grit my teeth as I work my jaw. My eyes are wet and I press my palms to them.

             
“Mason, I’m ruined. I can never give you what you deserve. I’m incapable of loving someone like—like you want. I will never be able to do it right. I will never deserve to be loved.”

             
My breathing is erratic. I shove myself to my knees and grasp her arms, pulling her toward me once again. “Sometimes never is a distorted perception.
I
love you, Hope. And I’m not the only one. I know you care about me. I see it in your eyes. I feel it. Everybody needs love.
Everybody
. And some people need it more than others. You’re a liar if you say you don’t. I’ll do that for you. I’ll love you. All you have to do is let me.”

             
The wind whispers against my back as if giving me a nudge toward her and I take it as a sign. I propel myself into her, pushing my bare skin to hers. I need to feel her. I need her to feel me.