What If (22 page)

“Shower time!” Nyelle bursts out, jumping up with the blankets still wrapped around her, bounding through the snow to the truck in bare feet.

“Holy shit, Nyelle!” I holler, sucking in frozen air, shrinking in every way possible as I scramble to find my clothes. I hear the truck start behind me. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll get your clothes,” I say to no one because she’s already in the truck. I zip my pants and pull my shirt over my head. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten dressed so fast in my life.

After I toss her clothes in the truck and tie the tubes down in the back, I shovel some snow on the fire. By the time I get in the truck, it’s warmed up—which is a relief, because I’m officially numb. I rub my hands in front of the heater, trying to regain feeling in my fingertips.

Nyelle is curled up under the blankets with just her face sticking out, reminding me of the last time we were here—painfully frozen. We should probably never come back here again… ever.

“Sorry I left you to pick up our stuff. Just the thought of getting dressed sounded torturous.”

“Oh, it was,” I assure her. “Good call. But guess what? I’m not carrying you into the apartment. And I might park in the farthest spot from the door, just because.”

“Cal!” She pouts. I laugh as we pull out of the camp, hopefully for the last time.

I end up parking right in front of the door, but I do make her walk in her bare feet, wrapped in blankets, naked.

*     *     *

“Ah!” I holler, clamping my eyes shut. “You got soap in my eye.”

“Oh, sorry. You’re taller than I thought.”

“Please explain again how taking a shower in the pitch dark is sexy?” I complain. “I can’t see you. I have soap in my eye. And I have no idea where anything is.”

“But I can
feel
you,” she says, rubbing a bar of soap on my chest in small circles, slowly working her way down.

“Oh!” I exclaim, suddenly getting it. “Okay. I changed my mind.”

Nicole laughs with her mouth against my skin.

And yes, even in the dark, with only my sense of touch to guide me, she’s still beautiful.

January—Sophomore Year of High School

“Happy New Year,” I say, entering Richelle’s room with a bouquet of helium balloons.

“Ooh, you brought a party!”

“I’m sorry you were sick for New Year’s Eve. I thought balloons with fireworks on them would make you feel better.”

“Don’t worry,” Richelle says, slowly easing herself up in bed, “I had a line of guys waiting to kiss me at midnight, but my dad scared them away.”

“Their loss,” I say with a quick shrug. She smiles. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” she answers. “My mother is being a lunatic though. I swear she gets off on the whole Nightingale thing. I mean, how much liquid can a person drink?”

Despite how pale she looks, she’s acting like she’s feeling better. I wasn’t sure if I should visit when I found out she was sick. But I’d honestly rather be here, watching her sleep, than be at home.

“Please tell me you have some hysterically horrible New Year’s party story to share with me? Like… someone set off fireworks and lit the neighbor’s house on fire. Or a bunch of guys streaked down the street, only to trip and fall on top of each other.”

I chuckle. “So, you want me to lie?”

“You’re a horrible liar. I guess I’ll have to be satisfied with whatever sad story you have about sitting in a corner and watching people drink all night.” Then her eyes widen. “Please tell me you actually went to a party. I might have to deny you as my friend for an entire… week, if you stayed home.”

“I went to a party,” I drone. “And it was horrible. Sort of.” My cheeks become hot.

Richelle’s mouth rounds. “Tell me everything. Now. Who is he? What does he look like? Is he a good kisser?”

The smile spreads across my face without effort. “His name is Kyle. And he’s a senior.”

“No way,” she gasps. “Do you have a picture?”

I pull out my phone and search for him on Facebook, then hand it to her.

“He’s hot! Nicole, I’m so proud of you!”

I laugh. “Nothing happened. He basically saved me from the worst kiss ever.”

“You had your first kiss too?! This is seriously an epic New Year’s for you. And who was the horrible kisser?”

I take back the phone and pull up Justin Murphy’s picture. She checks him out and shrugs. “He’s kinda cute.”

“But I swear if that’s what kissing’s supposed to be like, I never want to do it again. I thought I was going to drown.”

“That’s disgusting!” she exclaims. “And no. Kissing should
never
be like that.” She blushes. I know she’s thinking about Cal, and I shift at the end of her bed.

“Um… so, Justin kissed me at midnight, basically because I was standing next to him,” I share. “But then after, when everyone was all coupled off, Kyle and I went for a walk. He’s so nice. His younger brother is a sophomore too, but he’s…” I make a disgusted face. “So obnoxious.”

Richelle flips back to Kyle’s Facebook page. “He plays lacrosse,” she notes. “Ooh! And nice beach pictures.”

I bite my lip, having memorized each picture by now.

“So when are you going out?”

“Next weekend,” I tell her. “We’re going to dinner and then maybe a party. Not sure yet.”

“I like it,” she says with a grin. Richelle settles back into her pillow, suddenly looking tired.

“Do you want me to leave?” I offer.

She shakes her head. “No. Just sit with me,” she requests, taking my hand. Hers is cool and damp.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I promise, giving it a squeeze.

My eyes flip open as music blares throughout the apartment. The football game I fell asleep to is still playing on mute in front of me. I turn my head when the couch jostles violently and find a half-naked girl jumping on the cushion at me feet.

I lie on my back to get a better view of Nyelle in one of my T-shirts, jumping with her hair flinging around her, singing at the top of her lungs to a song that’s about… being naked.

I laugh when she hollers the chorus, directing the lyrics at me. Sitting up, I grip the back of her thighs and pull her down so she’s straddling me.

“I think this may be my new favorite song,” I say, sweeping the hair from her neck to give me access.

“I thought you might like it,” she murmurs, fisting my shirt and tilting her head to the side. “I think we should do what it says.”

“I think I like that idea,” I return, easing the T-shirt over her head. Smiling when there’s nothing underneath but a thong. “Well, that was easy.”

Nyelle lowers her mouth to mine as I run my hands along her bare back. She bunches my shirt, separating long enough to jerk it over my head, and tosses it to the floor. I inhale deeply with the touch of her soft skin against mine, holding her close as she maneuvers her legs so they’re wrapped around me.

I slide us to the edge of the couch and set my feet on the floor, tasting along her neck to her shoulder, slowly working my way down. She arches her back and draws in a slow breath.

I don’t care how many times we’ve done this now; I’ll never get enough of her. The feel of her. The taste of her. The noises she makes when I find the right spot. The way my body lights up like an inferno with just the smallest touch of her.

Nyelle squeezes her thighs tighter around me with a breathy moan as my mouth covers her smooth skin. Needing better positioning, I flip her over so she’s lying on the couch and prop myself above her, taking in the light reflecting in her blue eyes.

“I don’t think I can let you leave me,” I tell her, capturing any argument she might have with my lips pressed firmly to hers. I’m not usually so bold, but I’m a little unfiltered right now. She does that to me.

Nyelle moans when my hand slides up between her thighs. Her fingers fumble with the button on my pants.

I freeze when I hear, “Hey!”

Dropping on top of Nyelle, I try to cover her with my body. She releases a surprised grunt.

“Eric!” I exclaim, looking up at him over the arm of the couch.

“What’s going on?” he asks, setting his bag down. When he finally looks at me, his eyes widen in realization. “Oh shit!” And then he starts laughing. I want to strangle him. “Sorry about that.”

He walks closer and squints, “Hey, Lake Girl! Didn’t see you under there.”

“Eric! What the fuck!” I holler.

“Hi, Eric,” she responds, her voice strained. Probably because I’m crushing her with my weight, but there’s no way I’m moving until Eric gets the hell out of here.

He looks at us and shakes his head with a heavy breath. “You didn’t sleep in my room at all, did you? Not even for one night?”

“Why are you still standing here?!”

“Great,” he grumbles. “Now I owe Rae twenty bucks.”

“You bet on… Dude, can we talk about this later?”

“Yeah, Eric. He’s kinda squishing me,” Nyelle says breathily.

“Sorry,” I say, kissing her forehead.

“You’re right. That doesn’t look very comfortable,” Eric notes, tilting his head to get a better view.

“Eric!” I yell. “Just get in your room for, like, five minutes. Please!”

“Going.” He picks up his duffel bag and strolls into his room at a frustrating pace.

As soon as I hear his door click shut, I push off of the couch and grab my T-shirt, shoving it over Nyelle’s head and trying to pull her arms through.

“Umm… Cal, I can dress myself,” she says, sitting up as I pull it down over her red thong.

“Yeah, uh… I’m sorry. I just don’t know if his five minutes is really five seconds,” I tell her.

She laughs, standing to adjust the shirt. “I wanted to go for a walk anyway. You guys can catch up.”

“Or I can kick his ass,” I counter.

“You’re not a fighter,” she says, bending down to kiss me before entering the bedroom.

*     *     *

“Have you heard from Richelle yet?” Rae asks when I pick up the phone.

“No. But there’s a chance the message didn’t go through or record right with that shoddy signal at Zac’s,” I say, closing my laptop. “I’ll try her again.”

“Uh, is Nyelle with you?” Rae asks hesitantly. “She’s not responding to my texts.”

“She
never
responds to my texts,” I reply. “But no, she went for one of her walks. Why?”

“Uh, it’s nothing,” Rae answers evasively. “We’ve just been texting about something…”

She sounds weird.

“You and Nyelle have been texting?” I question, strangely jealous, considering I haven’t even spoken to Nyelle on her phone since the night she called me from the tree. And it took her being drunk to do that. “What about?”

Rae is quiet for a minute. I’m starting to get nervous. She never holds out on me.

“Rae?”

“I auditioned at Berklee a couple weeks ago,” Rae blurts.

Now I’m the one who’s silent, only because I’m too shocked to say anything.

“I knew you’d be mad,” she says. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you until I knew for sure that I got in.”

“I’m not mad,” I reply quickly. “I just wasn’t expecting it. Why didn’t you tell me you were applying?” The question I should have asked is why she told Nyelle.

“Because you think I’m coming to Crenshaw to go to school with you.”

“Rae, I only want you to come to Crenshaw if you want to be here. Not just because I’m here.” Realistically, I know that’s the only reason she planned to come to Crenshaw, but I never thought to stop her… until now. “This is a huge opportunity for you. And I’d be pissed if you didn’t go after what you want.”

“Thanks,” she says quietly.

“When do you find out if you got in?”

“Not for another couple of weeks,” she says with a sigh. “It’s killing me.”

“Is that why you were looking for Nyelle?” I ask, uncomfortable with how disturbed I am that they’ve been communicating directly. I guess because I’m protective of Nyelle, and… I don’t trust Rae not to say something that could make everything fall apart.

“Mostly. So, when are you going to talk to her, Cal? You only have a week left,” she demands. Rae has laid off of the month deadline since we saw each other over Christmas. This is the first time she’s harassed me for answers since then.

I take a deep breath and flip a pencil around on my desk.

“I’m not going to,” I confess.

“What?” Rae asks, her voice raised.

“If you feel like you have to tell my mother what’s going on, then go for it. I can’t ask Nyelle what happened to her, Rae. I won’t hurt her.”

“How would you hurt her?” she asks, confused.

I rub a hand over my forehead. “She doesn’t want to remember. Whatever it was, she blocked it out for a reason. I’m not going to make her relive it because I need to know. Because I
don’t
need to know.”

“You’re being stupid again,” Rae scolds.

“Maybe. But I only have a week left with her, and I’m going to do whatever I want with it.”

“You slept with her,” Rae groans, like that explains everything.

“That has nothing to do with it,” I respond defensively. “I care about her.”

“You’re
in love
with her,” Rae corrects adamantly.

“No,” is my instinctive response. But then I shut up.

Neither of us speaks for a minute.

“Your life is about to suck. And it’s only going to get worse when you can’t ignore whatever she’s hiding anymore.”

I lean back in the chair with a heavy breath, my head spinning. Is this really happening? Am I honestly sitting here trying to decide if I’m in love with Nyelle?

“You can’t love a person you don’t really know,” she responds. “And I have to tell Maura. I’m sorry, Cal.” She hangs up.

I close my eyes and run my fingers through my hair.

I
know
Nyelle. I know exactly who she is. But I wasn’t about to get into it with Rae. I feel the same way about Nyelle as I did about Nicole most of my life. That hasn’t changed. I’ve always been drawn to her. Every version of her. Since the day I saw her in that yellow dress. So maybe… it’s time I told her.

I take a deep breath. I can’t believe I’m doing this. My stomach feels like it’s going to twist in on itself just thinking about it. But… she’s worth it. And she needs to know it.

“Eric!” I call to him, opening my bedroom door.

“What’s up?” he says, poking his head out of his room.

“Can you stay at the fraternity house tonight?”

He rolls his eyes. “Wow. Nice to see you too.”

“I just need one more night. There’s something I have to do,” I tell him, knowing he has no clue what I’m talking about.

“Yeah, no problem.”

Not knowing how long she’ll be gone, I grab my jacket and the keys to my truck. “Thanks,” I say over my shoulder and rush out the door.

*     *     *

I’m sitting on the couch, rubbing my sweaty hands on my pants for the hundredth time, waiting for the door to open. She’s been gone for about three hours, and I’m on the verge of going to look for her. But I don’t want to risk her showing up here while I’m gone. Especially after spending two hours rushing to get everything in my room ready.

I decide I might as well try Richelle again to keep me from staring at the door. I listen to the phone ring. Just as it picks up, the door opens, and I jump up from the couch, disconnecting the call.

“He’s dead,” Nyelle gasps as soon as her red, swollen eyes find me.

“What?!” My heart is pounding at the sight of her tear-soaked face. “Who’s dead?” I rush over and wrap my arms around her. She leans against me as I kick the door shut and guide her to the couch. I ease her onto the cushion, holding her close and rubbing her back.

I coax softly, “Nyelle, who died?”

She murmurs between sobs, “Gus.”

I close my eyes. The homeless man I saw her talking to in the alley the day of the snowstorm. I don’t know what to say, so I just kiss the top of her head.

“I thought he was sleeping,” she says, her voice muffled with her face against my chest. “But he didn’t move when I said his name. He just lay there, even when I touched him. He was so… cold.”

I press my lips together. I don’t know how to fix this, how to make her feel better. But that always seems to be the problem.

*     *     *

“Hey, man. I lost you at Shannon’s. I wanted to ask you what time you’re picking me up tonight.” I prop the phone under my chin and pull my keys out of the ignition. I spent the day with Brady and Craig, hopping from one graduation barbeque to the next. Rae wants nothing to do with our classmates now that we’ve graduated, so she opted to spend the day with her girlfriend, Nina.

“Seven,” he says. “We have three graduation parties to hit tonight.”

“Three?” I reply in shock.

“Yeah, I gotta go. My family just got here,” Brady says before hanging up.

I pause in the driveway when I think I see a glimpse of red in the woods. I squint to focus through my glasses. There’s movement farther in, near the tree house. I don’t know what keeps me walking in that direction, but I do. Henley comes bounding out of nowhere, his tail wagging and his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

“Hey, boy,” I say, bending to scratch his head. When I stand up, I look toward the woods again, and I can definitely see someone, but whoever’s there is still too far away to make out. “C’mon, Henley. Let’s see who’s out there.”

I wonder for a moment if it’s Rae, but I know she hasn’t been in these woods since we were younger. Or maybe it’s one of the neighborhood kids come to check out the tree house. Considering how old it is, and that it was one of my dad’s projects, it’s probably not the safest idea. We should seriously take the thing down before someone does fall… again.

The last person I expect to find is Nicole. As soon as I see the red ribbon in her hair, Henley takes off running.

“Henley!” I yell instinctively. My voice turns her head in my direction, her hair falling away from her face. She’s crying. I stop.

Henley sticks his nose in her face, demanding attention. She scratches his head as he licks her face, releasing a laugh within a sob. Henley settles down next to where Nicole is seated on the leaf-strewn ground, with her legs straight in front of her and her back pressed against the tree.

I slowly walk toward her, afraid to say the wrong thing. So I don’t say anything. I just silently lower myself to the ground on the other side of Henley, whose head is resting on Nicole’s knee as she strokes his back. Leaning against the bark, I set my hand on his golden fur as well. I watch her thin, pale hand move along his coat without looking up at her. But I can hear her sobs. Glancing out of the corner of my eye, I notice the bouquet of wildflowers grasped tightly in her fist. Her arm is pressed against her stomach as if she’s holding herself. Nicole’s hair is a sheet of black, concealing her face, but the spasms in her back reveal each gasping sob.

Neither one of us says a word. We just sit against the tree, petting Henley. And then I feel her cool hand brush my skin, and I stop moving. She sets her hand on top of mine and curls her fingers around it. I look up, but she’s not looking at me. Her focus is on the flowers.

I give her hand a gentle squeeze. I still don’t know what to say, especially considering we haven’t said a thing to each other in five years. I want to ask her what’s wrong. I want to make her feel better, to take away whatever it is that’s hurting her. But I fail to do anything at all other than hold her hand—until she releases it. She stands up and straightens her red skirt before walking way. I notice she forgot the flowers on the ground next to the tree. But I don’t call to her. All I do is watch her disappear.

*     *     *