What If (24 page)

“Hey.” I roll to my side and redirect her attention with a finger under her chin, so she’s looking at me. “You can always show me exactly who you are. No matter what.”

“I’m not sure who that is,” she murmurs, pressing her lips into a tight smile to lock the emotion inside. The forced smile is too much like her mother’s. A disturbed chill runs through me.

“Who do you want to be?” I ask.

Her eyes flicker, troubled by the answer. I brush my hand on her cheek. I’ve never felt so helpless in my entire life.

“I don’t know.” Her lip trembles and she can’t hold back. “I don’t know anymore.”

I scoot closer and pull her trembling body to my chest, wanting to take it all away.

What would have happened if I’d done something that night I heard her screaming? What if I hadn’t walked away? What if I’d gone in her house to help her? What if I’d been the friend she needed? Would she still be lying here, searching for herself in the stars?

“You can be anyone you want with me. And it won’t matter, I promise—good, bad or crazy.” And it doesn’t matter which version of her is looking back at me; she’s the same girl. The girl I’ve wanted most of my life.

She releases a light, breathy laugh.

“Although I might regret saying that later,” I say, hoping to get her to laugh again, and she does.

I lift her chin and brush her lips with a gentle kiss.

“Everything’s going to okay,” I say again, lying to us both.

August—Before Senior Year of High School

I hang up the phone and lean back in my seat. Curling my fingers around the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white, I stare out the windshield. I need to calm down before I can get out of the car. There are too many people here. I can’t lose it now.

I jump when someone taps on the window.

“Nicole, what are you doing?” Ashley demands. My jaw clenches at just the sound of her voice.

I turn it off. The sadness. The anger. The frustration. And
smile
.

“I’m coming,” I say, dropping the phone in my beach bag and opening the door.

“Can’t believe we’re finally seniors,” Heather remarks as we walk along the hot sand, searching for the best place to set up. Or, as the girls prefer it, the place where the hottest guys are.

“Ooh, I like this view,” Ashley announces, dropping her bag in the sand.

I unfold the blanket and Vi helps me spread it as Heather and Ashley survey the landscape of roided bodies.

I pull my tank over my head and toss it on top of my bag. Just as I’m about to slide my shorts off, a muscled forearm presses into my stomach and I’m swung off the ground. I yell out in surprise.

“Hey, baby,” Kyle murmurs in my ear. I groan internally, wishing he’d take his hands off me. He turns me around and kisses me, forcing his tongue in my mouth. I count the seconds until he’s done.

“Hi,” I say, smiling up at him. “What are you guys doing here? I thought it was a girls’ day.”

“And miss seeing you in a bathing suit? No way.” He winks. I want to gag. Then he leans in and whispers in my ear, “Besides, you’ve been away all summer, and I haven’t had any time with you.”

I pull back with wide eyes.

“Don’t worry. I stuck to your story,” he drones.

I try to relax, hoping he didn’t slip up. He’s supposed to say he and I were in Malibu after I spent four weeks at the ballet program. I was actually with Richelle and not with him at his family’s vacation home. But I fight to keep our friendship to myself, so I have one genuine thing in my life no one else can touch.

He pulls me tight against him. “But it’s killing me to see you wearing that bikini, knowing I’ve never seen what’s underneath.”

“But that’s why I let you do whoever you want on campus,” I say low in his ear. “As long as you don’t tell, I don’t tell.”

Kyle is worried about his reputation. Pathetic. He’s convinced the guys in our town that we have sex all the time, and in return, I let him have sex with any coed he wants. If his younger brother or any of the elites found out that he’s never even seen me without a shirt on, other than at the beach, he would never live it down.

I can’t believe he hasn’t broken it off with me yet. I’ve been waiting for it for the past year, ever since he went off to college. But then again, he has a sweet deal. He has this stupid-ass reputation in his hometown of being… whatever it is he claims to be. And he gets to live up the single life on campus.

“Where’s Waldo!” Neil hollers. I clamp my teeth shut as he goes up for a pass and runs into Cal, knocking him to the ground. “Oh, sorry, man. Didn’t see you there.” The guys around us laugh obnoxiously.

“Then maybe you should take your head out of your ass,” Rae snaps, getting in his face, but she really only reaches his chest. I press my lips together to keep from laughing.

Craig helps Cal off the ground. I watch him brush himself off and adjust his glasses. He looks… taller. But he’s still skinny, which really doesn’t matter. I’m surrounded by guys with killer bodies—they’re still assholes.

He looks over at me, and for a moment I can’t look away. In those few seconds, I’m silently screaming that I’m sorry Neil’s a douche. I’m sorry I’m not hanging with them in Rae’s garage, listening to music and drinking on that ugly couch she moved up from the basement. I’m sorry that I don’t cheer loud enough for him at the basketball games when he gets to play for, like, five minutes. I’m just… sorry.

I break our connection and sit down on the blanket.

“Don’t you think so, Nicole?” Heather asks.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” I respond, having learned that’s the only way to ever respond. Just agree.

*     *     *

I drive home, exhausted and numb, wishing I could scream at the top of my lungs. But, unfortunately, Kyle manipulated a ride out of me, so I have to keep wearing this ill-fitting smile.

“Pick you up for that party later?” he confirms when I pull up in front of his house. “Eight?”

“Sounds great,” I respond with fake enthusiasm.

He leans over and paws me, kissing me aggressively. I let him, reminding myself to keep my eyes shut until he’s done.

“Babe, it’s your senior year,” he says, pulling back, out of breath. “Don’t you think it’s about time we had sex?”

“Maybe,” I tell him, smiling sweetly. “I just want it to happen naturally, you know? When it’s the right moment.”

Now get the fuck out of my car!

“Of course,” he agrees. “I’ll see you later.”

When I walk into my house, I have nothing left holding me together.

“Why can’t I go to San Francisco this weekend?” I demand as my mother folds laundry.

She straightens, surprised by my assertive tone. A tone I’ve never used with her before. “Excuse me?”

“I was supposed to see Richelle this weekend,” I explain, trying to collect myself. “But you called and said I had to stay home. Why?”

“We’re attending a company dinner with your father tomorrow night. He needs our support,” she explains.

I close my eyes, trying to stay wrapped up in the pretty packaging.

“You know why it’s important that I see her,” I say slowly. “This is our weekend. I can’t miss it.”

“Well, your father is more important.”

I fall apart. “Sitting next to you and Daddy, smiling like some cheap plastic doll while he kisses ass for three hours is
not
important. He will not get promoted. He will not get that raise. He will stay in that middle management position he’s been in for the past four years, although we have to pretend like he’s the ruler of the universe every time he walks through that door.
He’s not!

“I don’t know why you let him treat you like his slave—dressing, cleaning, and cooking for him. Always perfect. Never wanting to disappoint. Well, maybe I don’t give a shit anymore!”

I’m trembling in my rage. My mother blinks at me like I’m a kitten she finds adorable. I want to shake her. I want to unplug her from the program that keeps her from being human.

“Are you done?”

I flinch. The emotionlessness of her words feels like a slap.

“Your father and I are partners in this marriage. I support him by keeping the house clean and preparing his dinner each night, creating a calm and respectful setting where he can feel loved and appreciated. And he puts up with the disappointment of being overlooked in spite of all he gives to that company year after year. Even moving here to fill a position he was overqualified for, so that we can have this life. Saving for a college he was never able to attend, just so you can have every advantage he didn’t. So you
will
be at this dinner. You
will
be respectful. And you will
not
disappoint him. Do you understand?”

Defeated, I slip on the perfect daughter mask and nod numbly. “I understand.”

The sun shining through the windows wakes me the next morning. I rub my eyes and stretch, debating whether I should cover my head and fall back to sleep.

I roll over. Nyelle’s awake, watching me.

“Good morning,” she says quietly, offering a small smile.

I groan, wrapping my arm around her waist and rolling her on her side so her back’s pressed against me. “Are we awake?”

“Yeah,” she says. “I already showered and brushed my teeth.”

“Then I should too.” I yawn into the pillow.

“Before you say anything, although I know you won’t,” she begins, shifting onto her back. She lightly traces her fingers over my hand resting on her stomach. “I’m sorry about last night. I got a little freaked. Thank you for being so patient with me. I’m sure it hasn’t been easy.”

I prop my head up and focus on her, trying to decipher what patience she’s referring to. The fact that she’s still lost behind Nyelle, or that being Nyelle can be a little… overwhelming. Now I’m confusing myself.

“I’m sorry I’m not who you expected me to be,” she says, her lips pressed into an apologetic smile.

“Nyelle, you are
more
than I ever expected you to be,” I respond intently. I can’t stand the insecurity in her eyes. It’s not her. I need to get rid of it. “I don’t give a shit if I haven’t brushed my teeth, I’m kissing you.”

“No, don’t,” she pleads, giggling. I push my body between her legs and pin her arms above her. She squirms, trying to get free, laughing in that way that makes all the difference. The laugh that I needed to hear. I nuzzle into her neck and trail small kisses along it. Her body relaxes beneath me, and her hands slide up my back.

I drag my lips down to the dip in her collarbone and she inhales quickly.

“Wait,” she says suddenly. I don’t move. “Um… I was hoping to make you breakfast.”

“Breakfast? I was just about to…”

“Yeah,” she blurts, sitting up, knocking me off of her. I collapse on my back with a groan. It’s painful being denied first thing in the morning. Or any time really.

“Uh… you don’t even have to get out of bed. I’ll bring it up.” She sounds weird.

“What are you up to?” I ask, lifting my head as she walks to the door.

She flashes a devilish grin. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

“We’re in the middle of the woods!” I holler as I hear her footsteps trail down the hall. “Where would I go?”

While I’m waiting, I decide to take a quick shower to wash off the day of traveling that’s still clinging to my skin.

As I stand under the stream of water, I’m hoping today is better than yesterday. I sure as hell don’t want it to be worse.

I’m not dismissing everything that’s happened in the past twelve hours, but I’d rather not jump back into the deep end of the emotional pool so early in the morning. Her apology was heavy enough.

We have a week. I’m pretty certain that it’s all going to come out before it’s over. And when it does, it’s not going to be the best day of my life. So I just want to be an idiot for one more day, if I can.

When I step back into the bedroom, Nyelle is sitting on the bed, in a flannel shirt with the sheet covering her legs. She’s wearing a ridiculous smile that makes me laugh. I look around, expecting a bowl of cereal or something.

“Uh… what’s for breakfast?” I ask, pulling a drawer open in search of a shirt.

“Me,” she answers, turning me around. Before I can utter a sound, she unveils her legs and there are pink hearts painted on them. When I look closer, I see pink hearts on her neck, peeking out from underneath the collar of the shirt.

I grin, relieved that she’s willing to be in this bubble of denial with me. Whatever it is that’s going to change everything, it can wait.

“Frosting?”

Nyelle nods.

“And we don’t even have to climb a tree,” I say, moving toward the bed, suddenly starving.

She smiles innocently as I bend over her, tasting her lips.

“There isn’t any frosting there,” she murmurs against my mouth.

“Just thought it was a good place to start,” I reply, working my way down her neck, to the heart painted below her ear. I take my time finding each spot strategically marked for me. She gasps at the touch of my tongue on her sweet skin as I move down her body, savoring every inch.

This is most definitely the hottest thing I’ve ever done. Her breath quivers when I finish with the hidden hearts painted along her legs.

“I love breakfast in bed,” I say, returning to her lips once again. “So much better than cereal.”

“Did you just compare me to cereal?” she asks, still flushed.

“What? I can have you both every day and never get sick of you,” I argue, scanning her naked body. I’m not quite done with her yet. “How is that bad?”

She inhales quickly when I ease on top of her. “Oh, it’s not.”

*     *     *

“Did you fall asleep?” Nyelle asks, leaning back against me.

“Nope,” I say groggily, with my eyes closed. The hot water’s sedating. “But I probably could.”

“We’re losing our bubbles,” she says. The water swishes.

“Do you want to get out?” I ask, opening my eyes with a deep inhale. I lean forward and kiss her shoulder.

She holds her hands up in front of us. “My fingers are pruny, so I think it’s time.”

Nyelle uses the sides of the cast-iron tub to push herself up. I admire the water cascading off her skin. Then I shake the thoughts from my head, knowing we can’t spend the entire day in bed. Or… maybe we could.

“I was thinking about going for a walk,” she says, wrapping a towel around herself.

“It looks like it’s going to rain,” I inform her.

“We’re in Oregon. It always looks like it’s going to rain.”

I smile, reaching for the towel on the hook. “True.”

“What would you say if I asked to dress you?” she says, walking into the bedroom.

“You want to pick out my clothes? I didn’t bring a huge selection.”

“No.” She laughs. “Actually dress you. I like the thought of it.”

I pause, about to make a comment about how strange it sounds. But then I stop myself, thinking back to when I thought showering in the dark was a bad idea. And now that memory will never leave me.

“If you want to,” I respond. “Will you let me dress you?”

“Sure,” she answers with a smile in her voice.

Watching her bend down in front of me to pull up my pants and then sliding her fingers up the zipper is much more of a turn-on than I ever could’ve imagined. I’m tempted to ask her to take them back off again.

When it’s my turn, I take my time, sliding her arms into her bra and standing close to clasp it behind her. Kneeling before her as she steps into her underwear, running my hands up her legs as I guide them in place.

Kissing her when her head peeks out of the sweater. Then running my lips up her thighs when I pull her pants up. I pause at the small scar on her right thigh, kissing it gently. I smooth my fingers over it. It’s so light after all these years. I hadn’t really given it much attention until now, too distracted by the other parts of her.

“I can’t believe how small it is,” I remark, “considering there was a branch sticking out of it. I thought Richelle…”

Her body is suddenly too still. I cringe. I said too much. Shit.

Nyelle reaches for the top of her pants, pulling them over her hips and buttoning them. I stand openmouthed, wanting to take it back. But what should I do? Apologize? Pretend like I didn’t say it?

I’m so used to her not flinching at the mention of Renfield or anyone in it. Even the few times she’s let a memory slip through, she didn’t react. She didn’t even seem to realize that she’d done it. But now it’s different. The memories are like jolts of electricity, waking her from her oblivion. And they hurt. How do I make it stop?

“Uh… do you want to make pancakes?” I ask, hoping to distract her enough so that she can move past this. She was so excited when we picked up the box of mix on our way here. I’m grasping for anything right now.

“No, that’s okay,” she answers quietly, sitting on the bed and pulling on her socks. “I think I’ll go for that walk before it rains.”

I watch silently as she laces up her combat boots. She still won’t look at me, and it’s killing me.

When she stands, I step in front of her, placing my hands on her hips. “Nyelle.” She stares at my chest. “Please look at me.”

She reluctantly raises her eyes to meet mine. But quickly looks away when the pain surfaces and her eyes shine with tears. I try to control my expression so she doesn’t realize I’m as freaked as I am.

“I think… I think we should talk about it.” Holy shit, I’ve said it.

“I don’t want to talk. I can’t,” she replies in a broken whisper. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

She slips past me.

“Wait. Don’t go,” I plead, following after her down the hall. “I know that you’re upset. You don’t have to hide it. Nyelle, you don’t have to hide who you are with me. Remember?”

She reaches the bottom of the stairs and turns back around. “I’m fine,” she lies. “I just need to go for a walk and clear my head.”

I follow her to the door, but let her leave without stopping her.

I clasp my hands behind my head. Fuck.

Do I go after her? Do I give her time to herself? I’m so far out of my element here. I go back upstairs to grab my phone.

I walk around the house, searching for a signal. Nothing. The overcast sky must be making the reception worse than usual.

I go outside and hold the phone up, waiting for
any
bars to appear. As soon as I see two, I stop.

The sound of the phone ringing breaks up, and I close my eyes, begging for it to go through.

“Cal? Where’ve… been?!” Rae answers. The reception sucks.

“I’m at Zac’s,” I tell her.

“Where?”

“Oregon. Zac’s cabin,” I say again. There’s no way we’re going to be able to have a conversation.

“Nyelle… you,” is all I get from her before it cuts out.

I grunt in frustration. That was useless. I walk around again, even trying along the dirt road. Nothing.

I sit on the steps of the cabin, and Henley trots over to sit at my feet. I pet the top of his head and stare at the woods for a while, hoping she’ll come back.

“So what do you think, Henley? Should I go after her?”

He just looks up at me with his tongue hanging out.

“You’re right.
She’s
the girl worth going after,” I say, scratching him behind his ear. “Let’s go get her.”

Except when I stand up, I have no idea which way to go. We’re surrounded by woods. She could have gone anywhere.

So I just start walking, trying to follow the most natural path. After about fifteen minutes, I stop. This is useless. Then I remember…

“The lake,” I say to Henley, who tilts his head at the sound of my voice.

I get my bearings and head down the slope toward the lake. I don’t know why I didn’t think of going there first. I’m hoping she’s instinctively drawn to it or something. Either way, I have nothing to lose.

I’m about halfway there when I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. Henley stands at attention, listening. Then he takes off running. I should’ve just let him lead me to her.

I jog after him through the trees and underbrush.

I slow to a walk when I see her in the distance. Henley is stopped up ahead, waiting for me to follow.

The trees open up, surrounding a large patch of moss carpeting the forest. And in the middle of that clearing is Nyelle. And she’s… dancing.

I’m afraid to continue. I don’t want her to stop. The idea that she’s spinning around in the middle of the woods seems insane. But she’s so graceful in her movement, it’s actually… beautiful.

I move in closer, hoping she won’t notice me. Then I realize she has earbuds clipped to her ears. And her eyes are closed.

I lean against a tree and watch her sweep her hands in the air, dipping back and extending a leg toward the sky, her bare foot pointed.

I knew she danced. I never saw her perform. Seeing this, I wish I had.

She leaps in an arching movement. Upon touching down, Nyelle lowers to the ground into a seated pose with her legs bent at elegant angles and her arms folded around them. And then she doesn’t move.

I slowly approach her. She’s still bowed over, her head resting on her arms. Her shoulders shake as she gasps for each breath. She’s crying.

Henley jogs up, sticking his nose in her face. She raises her head, looking directly at me with tears streaming down her face. She removes her earbuds without getting up.

Staring into those same blue eyes I memorized so long ago, I ask, “Who’s Nyelle Preston?”