What Happens Now Page 23

  “I’m sorry,” I said softly so nobody would hear.

  “What do you have to be sorry about? I’m the one who kissed another girl’s boyfriend and caused some kind of nuclear reaction. By the way, that was both amazing and scary as hell, what you did.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Way to make your first kiss extra memorable.”

  “I’m glad you can joke about it. Guess who has to deal with the fallout while I skip town?”

  Oof. This reminder hit me square in the chest.

  “You leave in what, two weeks?”

  “Eleven days.”

  “At least you’re not counting or anything . . .”

  Kendall gave me a bittersweet smile. “We’ll hang out between now and then. A lot.”

  “Do you want me to come in with you?” I asked. “I could stay over.”

  Kendall’s smile disappeared. “You can’t avoid going home, Ari.”

  “I know that. But I don’t want you to be alone.”

  Kendall searched my face and then glanced quickly at the van. “But actually I do. Want to be alone. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

  “If my parents haven’t killed me or taken away my phone.”

  I hugged her tighter than she hugged me back, then watched her hurry into the house. When I turned back to the van, I saw that James had been watching her, too. There was an expression on his face that I could only describe as suffering, and I instantly knew there was more to this story.

  “Where to, lady?” James asked me after I got back in the van. He’d regained his composure.

  I finally forced myself to glance back at Camden and Max. Max was staring at Kendall’s house, where her bedroom light had just turned on. Camden was staring at me, a thousand questions in his eyes.

  “I’d like to go to the Barn,” I said.

  Camden nodded, and James made the van move again.

  In my message to my parents, I said I’d be home by eleven. We’d left the SuperCon two hours early, and now it was only a little past nine. That gave me almost two hours before I had to face their music.

  But first, I had to face Camden.

  The front steps felt rigid, unwelcoming as I climbed them. The porch light was off and there were many more shadows than usual.

  I followed Camden inside. “Be right back,” he mumbled, then went straight upstairs.

  I went into the bathroom, pulled a T-shirt and jeans out of my backpack. Taking off Satina’s uniform in the same place I had first put it on, that felt important. I knew I’d never wear it again.

  When I came out, everything was still dark and too quiet. What was the Barn without Eliza in her captain’s chair at the big table, Max’s oversize figure filling up all this empty space? The banter and the chatter of a very different, truly wonderful kind of family: one that had chosen itself.

  I opened the sliding glass door to the patio and stepped out into the night. So strange, that it had been right here, not long ago—that moment at his party with all of us dancing and the air thick with unfiltered Possible.

  “Hey,” said Camden behind me. His voice was strained, tired. He’d changed, too, into shorts and a T-shirt. He looked wrong and it took me a few seconds to figure out why.

  “You’re not wearing a button-down,” I said.

  He surveyed himself. “They were an experiment.”

  “I thought they were your thing.”

  “Really?” He seemed genuinely surprised, but not flattered. “I didn’t feel that. I tried them because I thought somehow they’d make me feel more normal. Mainstream. But that was really a form of cosplay, too.”

  I stepped close to him. Every time he opened up a secret like this, it drew me that much nearer.

  “I liked the button-downs,” I said, and touched his arm where the sleeve of the T-shirt stopped at the curve of his bicep. “But I like this just as much.”

  His skin tensed where I touched it. I looked up to see his jaw tightening.

  “Tell me,” he said. “Tell me why you did that to Eliza.”

  “Did you see what she did to Kendall?”

  “Yes.”

  “Kendall was scared. I reacted.”

  “No kidding.” His voice was icy now.

  “That’s not me. You know that’s not me.”

  “Do I?” He searched my face. “Based on that, I’m not sure who you are. Not the person I thought, for sure.”

  I felt a burst of heat on my neck, the back of my ears. “Well, then. That makes us even, doesn’t it?”

  He considered that, and his shoulders slumped. Everything about him softened. He sank down onto the patio sofa.

  “Yes, it does,” he said.

  “You know why Eliza did what she did, right?”

  Camden nodded. “I heard what she said to Kendall.”

  “So is Max still the person you thought he was? Aren’t you mad at him?”

  “A little, but he made a mistake. Aren’t you mad at Kendall?”

  “What you just said.” I moved to stand facing him, my knees touching his bent ones. “I made a mistake, too. Look, I’ve never touched anyone like that in my life. If I could undo it, I would.” I would, wouldn’t I? “Camden, I don’t know what else to say. It happened. But everyone’s okay and it won’t ever happen again.”

  Camden grabbed his forehead with both hands.

  “Everyone is not okay,” he said. “Eliza’s been through a lot. I’m not making excuses for the way she treats people, but what you did . . . to someone else it might be no big deal. To her . . . it might be.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “You know I had no idea.”

  He gazed at the sky and took a deep breath. “We all survive things, but what she’s survived is a little more intense than the rest of us. Also, she means a lot to me. She helped me put together a group of friends when I first got to school. She gave me the closest thing to the life I wanted, and she also gave me Silver Arrow. Then when I met you and we were all spending time together . . . that got me even closer to that life. But now it’s ruined.”

  We were silent for a moment while I worked out what that meant.

  “Oh,” I said. “She won’t want you to see me anymore.”

  Camden sighed. “It would be like, me choosing between you and my family, if that makes sense.”

  My throat closed up. I was going to ask the question before I chickened out.

  “Are you still in love with Eliza?”

  “What? No! God, no.” He looked straight at me now, caught his breath. What if he said I love YOU?

  Then again, what if it didn’t matter whether he said it or not? I’d already done one brave thing. I was on a roll.

  “Good,” I said. “Because I’m in love with you.”

  He continued to stare at me while I continued to not breathe. Then he reached out and yanked me onto his lap, where the pressure of our bodies together took on a new shape and sensation.

  I laughed nervously, until he kissed me hard. I kissed hard back, for a long time, and during that time it was easy to believe everything I’d ever wanted from him, his strength and confidence and devotion, was not misguided.

  Somewhere in there, along that line between pleasure and pain, I began to cry. The sobs started deep within me, muffled by the kisses, but then they began to escape. It took Camden a few moments before he noticed and pulled away, putting both hands on my face.

  “What? What is it?”

  “What you said about the life you wanted. I wanted that, too. You gave me those things, too. And now it’s all turned to crap. In addition to the other stuff that was already crap.”

  I sobbed again. Camden reached out and tentatively stroked my hair.

  “I’m sorry about Eliza,” I said with a sniffle. “I’m sorry that’s a side of me, and I’m sorry it showed itself. I’m sorry I’ve never found a way to deal with it except to, you know, cut myself open.”

  Camden watched me for a few moments, like we’d just peeled another layer
from between us and he was seeing things raw again. “Ari, you’re making it hard for me to be angry with you.”

  “Go ahead, be angry with me. Please. But forgive me a little, too, okay?”

  He bit his lip and nodded quickly, then kissed me. I pulled him down onto the couch. Or he pushed me. Maybe both at the same time. Now we were lying next to each other with the blanket of night above us.

  Camden turned onto his side. He propped his head up with his elbow and began to trace the skin of my collarbone along the top of my T-shirt, back and forth in delicate, devastating U’s. Then he ran his finger down the middle of my chest like he was marking an equator. The border between the half of me who wanted to believe we never had to leave this place, and the half of me who knew the world beyond it was not going to make being together easy.

  His hand was under my shirt now, pressing a sweaty palm on my stomach. He took a deep breath and pushed it farther up, touching the center of my bra. I slapped my hand over his and met his eyes. Then I moved that hand to one of my breasts.

  “We can do this, right?” I whispered.

  Camden bit his lip and nodded, his focus intense. I let go of his hand so it could move on its own.

  “Tell me when you want to stop,” I said.

  He didn’t answer. He only touched me, and I felt like I could get swallowed whole in the quicksand of it. After a few moments he whispered, “What if I don’t want to stop? . . . And you don’t want me to stop?”

  I wasn’t sure what he was asking. I didn’t care. All I knew was that it meant we could keep touching each other, existing only in the moment of what happens now.

  I answered by kissing him lightly, holding his bottom lip between my teeth. It must have tickled because he laughed. Maybe this was how people did it. With every moment of skin plus skin, you were pressing the reset button on your past experiences. You could close your eyes and pretend you were coming to this person with your hope for love still arranged in clean, unbroken lines.

  I reached up with my left hand and started to slide it under the waistband of his shorts, then dared to check his expression. It was something halfway between wonder and fear, which was excellent because that was exactly what I felt, too.

  It was impossible not to think about Lukas but it was okay, like the memory of him was there to help me understand myself. Lukas had guided my hand that night of his party. Grabbed it, desperately, and placed it where he wanted it. It was not where I wanted it but I couldn’t make my hand do anything differently. But here, with Camden, I was in charge of my own actions.

  Camden sighed so hard he started coughing. Then we both cracked up.

  “To hell with all of it,” he muttered, pressing his body into mine.

  I wasn’t sure what it was but yeah, send it to hell. Let it stay there a good long time.

  Because I understood, now, why this might be worth risking everything. I knew I had another person all to myself. That there was only one thing in the world we both wanted at that moment, and we were giving it to ourselves and each other.

  We were kissing and moving to a kind of rhythm now. The beat of it got faster, more urgent. All it would take now was a few pieces of clothing not being where they were. Camden had his eyes closed, biting down hard on his bottom lip.

  “Camden,” I whispered, wanting to make sure he was with me, that we were making this decision together.

  He didn’t open his eyes. He just kept kissing me, gripping me tighter.

  “Camden!” I said more loudly. “Stop! Look at me!”

  His eyes popped open and it was like a spell had been broken. “What?” he said, his voice scratchy.

  “Look at me, please.”

  He did. And I knew.

  “We can’t do this,” I said. “Not like this.”

  Camden sighed and slowly pushed himself up, off, away from me. He knelt at my feet at the other end of the couch and I scrambled to sitting.

  He clutched his chest. “You kill me.”

  “Sorry.” God, that sounded so stupid. But what else could I say? “You stopped us the last time. We’re tied one-one.”

  He huffed a half laugh, then fell serious again. “I don’t know how to do this.”

  “This?”

  “Be with someone, that is. Not sex. I could wing that part based on what I’ve seen and heard . . .”

  “Right,” I said, holding up my hand for him to halt.

  “The problem is, I have no examples to go by. How are we supposed to figure it out if we have nothing real to base it on?”

  I shook my head. “No idea.”

  I pulled my shirt down, and something in that made Camden look pained. Had I done the right thing, stopping him? Was I going to regret this?

  “Please stay,” he said. “You can sleep in my mom’s room.”

  I leaned forward and rested my forehead against his for a second. That was all I dared. Ninety-nine parts of me wanted to say yes and wrap my arms around him so hard they’d have to be pried away, eventually. But that one last, hundredth part. It had learned some things.

  “It’ll be infinitely less awful for me if I go home now,” I said. “I’ll call Richard.”

  Camden nodded, traced a circle on the back of my hand.

  “I’m going to go into the house but I don’t want you to come with me,” I continued. “I want to think of you as being right here.”

  He nodded again, closed his eyes.

  I went inside and didn’t look back. I found my backpack, turned on my phone. There were no more new messages and that felt ominous.

  I called Richard’s cell phone. He picked up instantly.

  “Ari?” he asked.

  “Hi.”

  “Are you on your way home?”

  “I’m actually at Camden’s. Can you come pick me up?”

  He paused. “Yes, of course. I just need the address.”

  It was the of course that got me. I found myself tearing up.

  “I’m so sorry, Richard.”

  “Save it for later,” he said, but kindly.

  I went out onto the porch and waited for the next act to start.

  20

  Richard pulled into our driveway and put the car in park, but didn’t shut it off. We hadn’t said a word to each other since leaving the Barn. He turned to me now, and I got the sense he’d been so quiet on the drive because he’d been preparing for this moment.

  “Ari,” he said, finally looking at me, and it was a damn good thing he hadn’t until now, because that was all it took for the tears.

  “Richard . . . ,” I said, my voice shaking, with no idea of how I planned to finish that sentence.

  “The only thing I’m going to tell you that’s not obvious, that you don’t already know, is that Dani had a great time with Mikayla.”

  I smiled and let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “I’m glad.”

  “Hold that thought,” said Richard, and turned the car off.

  Danielle came running out the front door, her hair wet from a bath. I could feel my heart curl toward her.

  “Hey, kiddo,” I said when I got out of the car. “What are you still doing up?”

  She hugged me, her arms tight and desperate around my waist, then drew back and gave me a dirty look.

  “Waiting for you. Duh.”

  “I’m back now.”

  Richard brushed past us and into the house. After the front door shut behind him, I leaned down close to her and said, “Me going away with my friends, and Mom and Dad getting mad. You know that had nothing to do with you, right?”

  “Yes,” she said. Danielle stared hard at the ground, frowning. “I made Mom a card when she was crying. She said it was the best one she’s ever gotten.”

  “She was crying?”

  “Well, first she and Daddy got into a fight. Biggest one ever. Then she went into her bathroom and locked the door and I listened through the wall. She doesn’t know I did that.”

  “Come inside,” I said and started
walking, taking her hand. I thought of Camden’s question: How are we supposed to figure it out if we have nothing real to base it on? But the way Danielle’s hand felt warm and perfect in mine—that was real.

  The thought of my mother crying in the bathroom. That was real, too.

  When I came into the kitchen, Mom was sitting at the table, facing the other way, and didn’t turn around. I stood watching the back of her head for a few moments as she carefully flipped the page of the newspaper she was reading.

  Then Dani said, “Mommy! Didn’t you see that Ari’s home?”

  My mother dropped both hands to her side and sat quietly for a moment, then slowly swiveled in my direction.

  It wasn’t like I hadn’t prepared for this. I’d played the scene over and over in my head for days now, letting it go one way, then another. Trying out different things to say and a range of reactions to feel. In this little mental theater of mine, Mom was always the same: Angry. Indignant. Unreasonable. (Also, Wrong. Eternally Wrong.)

  Problem was, right now she was not any of these things. All I could see in her face was pain, unfiltered and stripped of pretense.

  Her pain triggered my pain. There and then and always, for as long as I could remember.

  It was different now because I knew I was the cause of it. None of my rehearsed imaginary reactions applied here.

  I ran down the hall to my room and slammed the door.

  Ten minutes later, Richard rapped softly on my door. I knew he’d just come out of Danielle’s room after reading to her. “She wants you,” he said.

  Danielle was already tangled up in her covers, like she’d purposely thrashed around to create the effect. Her still-damp hair spread out on the pillow and I winced to think of how badly it would be knotted in the morning, and how much she’d scream when we tried to brush it.

  “Hi, kiddo,” I said, sinking onto the bed next to her.

  Dani was staring out the window. “I wrote a note to Jasmine the other day. She took it but she hasn’t answered me yet. Do you think I should write another?”

  In my resentment, I’d stopped checking the windowsill for fairy mail every night. Maybe my mother had collected the note, or maybe it had simply fallen between the wall and the bed. I’d have to check in the morning when Dani wasn’t around.